Chapter Seven: Utter Chaos

“Mr. Lin, have you ever worked the land before? Have you ever used a sickle to cut wheat?”

In the car, sitting in the front passenger seat was none other than the assistant director, Guo Biao. He didn’t appear on camera and was mainly responsible for prompting lines.

“I have, and I’ve used a sickle to cut wheat, but that was fifteen years ago,” Lin Xing replied with a touch of nostalgia. “Although I still occasionally do charity work these days, it’s mostly with combine harvesters.”

Guo Biao continued, “What about you, Miaoyin?”

Lin Miaoyin laughed. “I’ve never farmed before. It was only while filming that I learned the difference between rice and wheat. I always thought they were the same just from looking at photos.”

All of this was in the script, which Lin Miaoyin had already memorized thoroughly the night before. After all, she was a professional actress. Though her skills weren’t top-tier, she had no trouble with this kind of reality show recording.

Besides, this question was designed to let Lin Miaoyin shine. Sister Dao and the production team had already agreed to give her a few extra shots.

“Rice is grown in paddies, while wheat is planted on dry land,” Lin Miaoyin explained briefly.

Of course, images would be added in post-production.

“It’s quite a coincidence. Our wheat harvest is almost finished—just two fields left. But after that, we’ll be harvesting the rice,” Guo Biao read from the script, never showing his face to the camera.

The half-hour drive was filled with talk about farming, which fit perfectly with this episode’s theme: ‘The Final Wheat Harvest.’

“Mr. Lin, do you know how to operate a harvester?” Guo Biao asked again.

“I know a little,” Lin Xing replied, recalling his experience learning to drive a harvester during a poverty alleviation project up north. But since it had been years, he didn’t claim to be proficient.

“Do you have a driver’s license for it?” Guo Biao pressed.

Lin Miaoyin, surprised, asked, “You need a license to drive a harvester? What kind of license is that?”

Guo Biao explained, “Agricultural machinery operators must hold a license issued by the agricultural safety supervision department, and they have to undergo regular inspections.”

“Oh, I see. Can anyone take the test for this license?” Lin Miaoyin asked, now understanding.

“As long as you’re between eighteen and fifty-five, you can apply. And as it happens, our show has arranged with the agricultural machinery supervision office for us all to take the test together tomorrow,” Guo Biao said with a smile. “If you don’t have a license, you can join the exam tomorrow.”

The production team had arranged this in advance, and it would also serve as a highlight for the show.

“All right, then tomorrow we’ll join in the fun,” Lin Xing agreed, since he hadn’t taken the test before either.

With the script to guide them, Lin Xing and Lin Miaoyin didn’t find the journey dull at all; Guo Biao led the conversation naturally.

Of course, when it was edited, this entire segment might only last five minutes.

Half an hour later, the car began to jostle slightly.

“We’re almost there!” Guo Biao announced. “Everyone is out in the fields harvesting wheat. There’s heavy rain forecasted in three days, so they have to finish before then.”

Once they got out of the car, Lin Xing and Lin Miaoyin picked up their suitcases and headed for their lodgings.

“Just ahead,” Guo Biao said, walking in front and introducing the place. “This was an abandoned house, but we all worked together to renovate it a bit and turned it into a dormitory.”

“It's terrible,” Sister Dao grumbled off-camera, clearly dissatisfied with the accommodations. She turned to Director Feng Gang, “Director Feng, this isn’t fit for anyone to live in.”

Feng Gang laughed, “It’s just for the recording. After we finish today, we’ll send you all back to the hotel.”

“That’s a relief,” Sister Dao nodded slightly.

It was nothing but a brick-walled rural house. Calling it poor was an understatement. As Lin Xing’s agent, how could she let her artist sleep in such a ‘doghouse’? In her eyes, not even a dog would live here.

The recording continued.

“Mr. Lin, please change clothes, put on gloves, and then we’ll head to the field to get familiar with the environment,” Guo Biao instructed. “Everyone else is already in the fields.”

“All right, let’s change and take a look,” Lin Xing replied, shutting the door behind him.

The outfits were provided by the production team—breathable work uniforms to prevent heatstroke. For shoes, Lin Xing put on his own sneakers, which were more comfortable for manual labor.

Once changed, Lin Xing and Lin Miaoyin joined the staff heading to the wheat field.

Before them stretched a golden wheat field, every stalk gleaming under the sun’s rays.

Off in the distance were the rice paddies, soon to be harvested as well.

This farmland grew both rice and wheat.

As they walked, Guo Biao explained the situation.

“Be careful—don’t point the sickle at anyone,”

“Oh, I’ve never seen anyone as clumsy as you. When you cut wheat, you have to bend over,”

“Duan Hai, be careful. You all should keep your distance,”

When Lin Xing stepped onto the field, he saw chaos unfolding—Duan Hai and a few lesser-known guests were making a mess of cutting wheat.

Nearby, workers—actual wheat harvesters—kept a watchful eye. Though they mostly used combines these days, they were there to teach the eight celebrity guests how to cut wheat.

Each guest had their own mentor.

“Mr. Lin, here’s a sickle. Be careful not to hurt yourself,” a staff member said, handing Lin Xing a sickle. A mentor approached and briefly explained, “Understand?”

Lin Xing nodded, “Let me give it a try.”

With that, he stepped into the field.

“Be careful, Xingxing.”

“Don’t use too much force, Mr. Lin.”

“Xingxing, you have to do it like me.”

As Lin Xing entered the field, Hong Fei, Duan Hai, and Guan Peng greeted him.

Harvesting wheat was truly exhausting.

Glancing around, Lin Xing saw chaos—only Guan Peng was doing slightly better, but even he was panting heavily.

After all, Guan Peng hadn’t cut wheat in over twenty years. Though his career had faded, his standard of living was much higher than most—otherwise, he wouldn’t be so overweight. Bending over to cut wheat was no small feat for him.

Behind the cameras, Sister Dao wanted to shout for Lin Xing to leave at once.

What on earth was this? What was the point of this variety show? No wonder it was unpopular.

Though she felt like losing her temper, she held back.

At that moment, she saw Feng Gang instructing the cameraman to zoom in.

“Move the camera closer. Give Lin Xing a close-up,” Feng Gang said.

The show’s main attraction was watching celebrities struggle awkwardly with farm work. In Feng Gang’s mind, there was no way Lin Xing would be adept with a sickle.

Besides, aside from some impoverished areas, who still cuts wheat by hand these days?

If Lin Xing managed to do it skillfully, it would be a miracle.

So when the camera focused on Lin Xing, Feng Gang’s eyes widened in disbelief.