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Under the glaring hot sun, sweat rolled freely, dignity evaporated instantly, and every participant wondered why they ever agreed to appear on this show.

To be fair, the earlier seasons were deceptive. All they showed were beautiful contestants drifting between chic cafés, designer exhibitions and perfectly lit museums, flirting over artisanal pastries and posing like lifestyle influencers.

There had been been zero indication that rice fields or sinking mud would ever be involved.

If anyone were to ask the director, he would say the season was going perfectly.

The mud was intentional.

The suffering was thematic.

The audience loved authenticity.

At least, that was what he told himself whenever soone scread.

And besides, was it really his fault that the cast this ti round had zero chemistry? There were no heart-fluttering monts, no lingering gazes, no soft smiles waiting to bloom into sothing aningful.

Instead, there were only individuals who seed far more interested in outmaneuvering one another than falling in love.

The director called it tension.

The cast called it survival.

Besides, did anyone even rember Han Yichen anymore?

The supposed talented composer who was ant to debut as a singer, only for everyone to discover that he had far less talent than advertised.

Last anyone heard, he was neck-deep in lawsuits. Rumour had it he would be paying dearly, financially, socially and perhaps even spiritually.

But Han Yichen himself was not the real issue.

The scandal that destroyed his career was the real problem, because it had dragged the dating show down with him. The director did not want to recall the endless nights the team spent trying to edit the man out of every fra he appeared in.

Hours lost. Coffee consud. Sanity shaken.

All because of one person’s lies. Trust, once broken, was expensive to rebuild. Editing, even more so.

This dating show had a rocky start, the initial direction had to be swerved and well...things ended up like this.

The director took a sip of his goji berry tea, the kind ant to "rejuvenate vitality," although at this point even herbal redies were reconsidering their life choices around him.

He sighed.

This season was supposed to be simple.

Light flirting. Soft lighting. A tasteful sprinkling of romance.

Instead, he got mud, misery and emotional landmines disguised as cast mbers.

He stared at the scene before him: eight people sweating under the sun, slipping, sliding and occasionally questioning their purpose in life.

It was not elegant.

It was not dreamy.

It was certainly not romantic.

But the caras were capturing every mont beautifully.

The director straightened, optimism returning like a delusion he wore proudly.

"So what if they aren’t falling in love?" he murmured to himself. "Drama is also a form of connection."

Behind him, the production assistant quietly updated the internal report for the week:

Status of Romance: Critically low

Status of Drama: Thriving

Status of Cast Morale: Deceased

*****

Out in the field, An Ning and Zhou Zhenyu stepped into the mud first. The water rose past their ankles, cool and murky. The mud sucked at their boots with each step, but they remained steady.

Zhou Zhenyu tested his footing, then glanced at the row assigned to them. "If we divide the section and stagger the planting, it will be faster."

An Ning nodded. "You handle the front. I will follow and fill the gaps."

No fuss.

No drama.

No useless comntary.

They simply started working. Of course they were uncomfortable with the situation, but neither of them said anything.

They were practical people; the earlier they started, the earlier they could finish. Complaining would not change anything, so there was no point in doing it.

The seedlings slipped neatly into place. Their movents were not as smooth as the farrs in the instructional video, but compared to everyone else, they looked almost professional.

[Wow they are functional as a team]

[Others are dying, these two are quietly applying productivity techniques]

[Office workers who got dumped into agriculture mode]

[Can I just say that An Ning’s outfit is pretty and practical??? I want to buy a set!!!]

*****

A few rows away, Jiang Shuyue stood at the edge of her section, staring at the water as if it were a negotiation table she wanted to overturn.

She hesitated at the edge like soone evaluating a bad investnt. She lifted her foot and stepped in with visible reluctance.

The mud welcod her.

Imdiately.

Her foot sank deeper than expected. She wobbled, grabbed at the air, and latched onto the nearest stable object.

Unfortunately, the nearest stable object was Shen Xiyu.

He staggered, caught off guard. "Careful."

"I am trying," Jiang Shuyue said through gritted teeth, still smiling for the caras. "It is just... deeper than it looks."

Once she had both feet in, she clung to his sleeve like a decorative accessory that refused to let go.

"Let us move slowly," Shen Xiyu said, voice low. "If you rush, you will lose your balance."

"I am not rushing," she replied. "I am managing. There is a difference."

They reached the starting line of their row.

The production assistant waved encouragingly from the edge. "Just rember what you saw in the video. Step, plant, step, plant. Natural, like breathing."

Jiang Shuyue smiled politely and wanted to curse badly because it did look easy but doing it was another matter all together.

She bent down, grabbed a seedling, and tried to place it gracefully into the mud.

It slipped out of her fingers and floated sideways.

"...Is it supposed to do that?" she asked.

"No," Shen Xiyu said. His face looked even more haggard than yesterday, probably from lack of sleep.

He reached past her, adjusted the seedling, then planted his own with quiet precision. His technique was not perfect, but it was systematic.

Jiang Shuyue watched him, then decided to imitate his movents.

Step.

Plant.

Step.

She managed three seedlings in a row.

Then her heel sank again. Her upper body tilted forward. A small, undignified noise escaped her throat.

Shen Xiyu grabbed her elbow before she could fall face first into the field.

To the caras, it looked almost like a romantic support scene.

To both of them, it felt like ergency disaster managent.

[Ahhh he helped her]

[Is this the beginning of sothing]

[The way she nearly face planted and he saved her is very... raw]

[Raw rice, raw feelings, I guess]

Shen Xiyu exhaled softly. "Watch your weight distribution."

Jiang Shuyue smiled tightly. "I am watching many things right now. None of them are pleasant."

You are reading Melon Eating Cannon Fodder, On Air! Chapter 49 - Forty-Nine: Rice Planting Mayhem(3) on novel69. Use the chapter navigation above or below to continue reading the latest translated chapters.
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