Chapter Fifty-Two: Talent Show! Voluntary Withdrawal?

Director Wang, after all, was a top-tier variety show director, and he quickly shifted the viewers’ attention in the livestream.

Fieldwork!

This had always been a cherished tradition of “Come Celebrate the New Year at My House.” It was also why the production team chose such scenic countryside locations—not only to fulfill the prerequisite of experiencing rural life through farm work, but also to attract viewers with breathtaking landscapes. In fact, by showcasing the unique scenery of a different mountain village each episode, the show crafted its own distinctive style, painting a dreamlike, slow-paced life. At the same time, it served as a promotion for local tourism. Three birds with one stone—who could resist?

If Director Wang hadn’t guided things in this way, the show would have devolved into nothing more than a spring outing for adults and children, losing much of its charm.

Now, the choice was left to the guests on site.

Zhou Fangkai and his wife, Zhou Huamei, watched on with cheerful smiles. Having memorized his lines in advance, Zhou Fangkai continued, “Honored guests from afar, the scenery of our Zhou Family Village is renowned throughout the region. Missing out on this opportunity would surely be a great regret.”

With that little push, the guests exchanged uncertain glances.

Wen Huaiyu chuckled, “Who would have thought we’d be playing a little game with you all? Director, is this game for us to decide?”

“If that’s the case, why not choose a performance ourselves?” she suggested.

Leng Yan, Zhuge Ming, and Ouyang Ruofeng immediately shook their heads like rattles.

“No way!”
“Sister Wen, that’s not a good idea. I know you’re eager to see Bailin dance, but don’t forget—there are two people here who can’t handle it at all,” Leng Yan teased, glancing at Zhuge Ming and Ouyang Ruofeng.

The two named men instantly felt a twinge of embarrassment. Being called out like this was hardly pleasant.

But, in truth, Wen Yan was itching to perform. After all that build-up, wasn’t this the moment she’d been waiting for?

Bailin, however, remained utterly composed. Whether she performed or not, it made no difference to her.

“I’ll go wash the dishes. You all decide on the game,” she said, rising to clear the table—an action that took everyone by surprise.

No sooner had she spoken than, within seconds, she had neatly gathered up the dishes and utensils before her. The others watched in bemusement as Bailin, balancing a stack of dishes, headed for the kitchen.

This woman—when she said she’d do something, she meant it. No hesitation, no fuss, no affectation.

In that moment, Bailin’s fans rejoiced.

“Where are the ones who said Bailin does nothing but laze around and wait to eat? Step forward and take your punishment!”
“Yeah, where are the haters now? Step forward and take your punishment!”
“Haha, who would’ve expected it? Sister Bai always moves so fast. No one can say she’s scheming now, can they?”
“Whoa, she’s back for another batch!”
“Any haters got anything to say?”

As for those who had criticized Bailin for not working, they instantly fell silent. They never played when the wind wasn’t in their favor.

Of course, they racked their brains, unable to understand why Bailin would so willingly give up a chance to shine, to forfeit tomorrow’s fieldwork opportunity. Wasn’t that the whole point of this show? Wasn’t that the key? Was Bailin just here to clock in for work? Did she feel no pressure to prove herself? Come on! If you don’t strive to stand out, what’s the point of joining this show at all?

Their confusion was shared by the others on site, leaving them equally bewildered.

By the time they recovered, Bailin had nearly finished clearing all the dishes and was already washing up in the kitchen.

Wen Yan, at this moment, was caught in a dilemma. Although Bailin wasn’t actively seeking the spotlight, wasn’t her very act of stepping aside also a form of self-expression?

Wen Yan had planned to show some “sisterly solidarity” and help Bailin with the dishes. But in doing so, wouldn’t she also be giving up her own chance for tomorrow’s fieldwork? Oh, the struggle! To her, this predicament seemed like a challenge Bailin had thrown her way, and she couldn’t help but feel a little resentful.

Leng Yan glanced at Bailin and said, “She’s taken care of the dishes. But as for tomorrow’s fieldwork, we’ll have to see. Bailin, don’t think you can slip away—your Aunt Wen has been looking forward to it for a long time.”

At that, the others looked satisfied.

Wen Huaiyu laughed, “Leng Yan, everyone says you lack tact, but it seems you understand people very well.”

Leng Yan grinned, “That’s just gossip. I’m just straightforward—and a bit deadpan.”

In the kitchen, Bailin gave a wry smile. So, she hadn’t escaped after all?

As she washed the dishes, she glanced at the dining table, where Wen Huaiyu and the others were already discussing what to do. In the end, it seemed, they’d still be performing.

But the nature of the performance was up for debate.

After all, with Lin Yubai the professional actor, Zhuge Ming the writer, and Ouyang Ruofeng the up-and-coming director, you couldn’t exactly have Ouyang direct a one-take scene, or expect Zhuge Ming to compose a poem on the spot.

So, after some discussion, they decided: the seasoned veterans would drop the pretense and show some real skill, serving as inspiration for the rest. As for the three men, they could figure something out among themselves—even telling a joke would do. Surely they had more to offer than just their day jobs.

To their credit, Zhuge Ming and Ouyang Ruofeng made up their minds.

And so, the much-anticipated performances began.

For Wen Huaiyu, there was nothing to it. As an artist in traditional opera, she sat down and began to sing, to the eager delight of all.

But it wasn’t just any performance. She seamlessly wove together the characteristics of Beijing Opera, Qinqiang, Yue Opera, and Huangmei Opera. It was as if someone sang a single song, alternating between pop vocals, R&B, and bel canto—a dazzling, breathtaking display of skill.

Even Bailin, busy washing dishes, couldn’t help but let her jaw drop. The old masters truly had the edge.

Wen Huaiyu’s mastery was awe-inspiring.

“Damn, the old artists really are something else!”
“This episode was worth watching.”
“And she sang sitting down, not even standing!”
“No wonder she’s a national treasure—she’s incredible.”
“…”

As for Master Wen Haiquan and Master Jin Chenglin, they were no slouches either. Wen Haiquan, in fact, was related to Wen Huaiyu; they hailed from the same illustrious family.

After Wen Huaiyu showcased her vocal prowess, Wen Haiquan retrieved an instrument from his luggage: the erhu.

Then, the classic “Moon Reflected on Erquan Spring” began.

The melody was so hauntingly beautiful, it moved listeners to tears.

“Master Wen, please stop—I’m already crying.”
“Listening to this, I feel as though I’ve seen my late grandmother again, sob!”
“Quick, someone stop Master Wen’s erhu—that thing is magical.”
…