Melon Eating Cannon Fodder, On Air!-Chapter 57 - Fifty-Seven: Of Preparations and Suffering
The early mornings were the best kind of mornings, when the sun was still gentle and the world had not yet remembered to be loud. An Ning settled into her steady jog along the villa path, her breathing even and unhurried.
Running kept her body fit, but more importantly, it gave her something she rarely enjoyed in the public eye: solitude.
No cameras.
No chatter.
No expectations hanging over her shoulders.
Just the soft rustle of leaves, the sound of her footsteps and the cool morning air brushing her cheeks.
Here, she did not need to smile for anyone. She did not need to maintain an image or calculate her expressions. She could simply exist, quiet and unobserved, letting her thoughts drift freely.
She treasured these pockets of peace.
They grounded her.
Away from the spotlight, away from people’s assumptions and projections, she could finally return to herself. It was in these moments that her mind cleared enough to think, to plan and to breathe without feeling the constant weight of scrutiny.
For a few precious minutes each morning, An Ning was not an actress, not a participant on a reality show, not a narrative for others to twist.
She was just... An Ning. And she liked it that way.
By the time An Ning returned to the villa, her heartbeat had steadied, her thoughts were clear and the faint sheen of sweat on her skin felt strangely refreshing. She pushed open the door just as the aroma of breakfast drifted through the hall.
Perfect timing.
The dining area was already lively. Jiang Shuyue looked half-awake, her hair still in a soft morning mess. Shen Xiyu sat beside her looking as though he had accepted the burdens of a lifetime. Chen Yiming was stirring his porridge like he was contemplating existential truths.
But the true surprise was Sun Qiaolian.
She looked... rested.
Not glowing, not radiant, but noticeably less tired than she had been in days. Her complexion was smoother, her eyes brighter and there was even a trace of a refreshed smile lingering on her lips.
An Ning raised a brow.
The little melon instantly appeared beside her ear, nearly vibrating with excitement."Ningning, Ningning, guess what happened last night."
An Ning reached for a cup of warm soybean milk. "Surprise me."
The little melon clasped his tiny hands dramatically. "Sun Qiaolian has reached enlightenment."
An Ning paused halfway to sipping. "Pardon?"
"She finally realised that sleep is more important than pride," the little melon announced with great solemnity. "So when everyone went to bed, she acted blur, pretended not to understand the sleeping arrangements, and directly lay down next to Jiang Shuyue."
An Ning blinked slowly. "...Just like that?"
"Yes," the little melon confirmed. "She even closed her eyes at lightning speed so no one could argue."
A quiet laugh almost escaped her.
"And Jiang Shuyue?"
"Oh, she was too tired to fight back. She just let it happen."
An Ning glanced at them now. Jiang Shuyue was eating in a daze. Sun Qiaolian was sipping tea with serenity, projecting the air of someone who had made a morally correct and spiritually profound decision.
"Smart," An Ning murmured.
"Very smart," the little melon said. "Ningning, adapting is the key to survival."
An Ning took another sip, amusement softening her expression.
It seemed the day had already delivered its first small melon.
*****
Breakfast trickled on in a strangely peaceful rhythm. It was the kind of calm that only appeared when everyone knew a storm was coming but chose to pretend otherwise.
One by one, the cast finished eating and wandered toward the open space near the dining area, gathering like students awaiting their exam results. The mood was a mix of resignation, dread and faint hope that maybe, just maybe, today’s mission would be kinder.
It would not be.
Chen Yiming sat the straightest, hands clasped neatly as if preparing to negotiate with fate.
Wu Shiyun cupped her mug with both hands, inhaling deeply as if the rising steam might lend her strength.
Jiang Shuyue wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, perched on a chair with half-lidded eyes. She looked spiritually absent, as though she had temporarily ascended to another realm.
Shen Xiyu stood behind her with the quiet misery of a man who had lost faith in the production team.
Zhao Guangyao paced ever so slightly, imagining several worst-case scenarios.
And Sun Qiaolian?
Refreshed. Radiant. Rejuvenated.
The glow of eight uninterrupted hours of sleep made her appear almost saintly.
An Ning took a seat by the window-adjacent wall, posture elegant, expression calm. The little melon floated beside her, humming like a melon spirit scenting impending entertainment.
"Ningning," he whispered, "do you think today involves physical labour?"
"Most likely," she replied.
"I hope it includes running. Humans panic very amusingly when running."
An Ning hid a smile behind her fingertips.
Then came the unmistakable sound of brisk footsteps.
The director entered the gathering area, cheerful in a way that immediately put everyone on alert.
He held a clipboard.
He wore a bright smile.
He radiated the kind of joy that belonged only to someone who controlled other people’s suffering.
Everyone straightened instinctively.
"Good morning!" the director announced, far too brightly.
Silence answered him.
The kind of silence that politely begged, Please have mercy.
"I trust everyone slept well."
Jiang Shuyue let out a short, hollow laugh.
The director, choosing survival, ignored her. "Excellent. Because today, we have something special planned."
A collective exhale swept through the group. Not relief—resignation.
Beside An Ning, the little melon practically vibrated with delight.
"Ningning," he whispered, "I can already taste the chaos."
*****
The director shuffled his clipboard, the smile on his face growing suspiciously brighter. The cast collectively tensed.
"Before we begin," he said pleasantly, "you should know that we will be welcoming a very special guest today."
A ripple moved across the group. A few exchanged glances, as though silently bargaining over who might be sacrificed to fate this time.
Wu Shiyun straightened.
Chen Yiming glanced at his reflection in the window.
Zhao Guangyao instantly tried to look more graceful than he felt.
Sun Qiaolian folded her hands with demure interest.
Only An Ning remained unbothered, sipping the last of her tea.
The director nodded, pleased with the suspense. "Since hospitality is important, it is only right that we prepare the guest room for our visitor."
A perfectly normal request, except nothing in this show was ever normal. The last time the director used the word ’normal,’ they ended up herding chickens across a field. No one had forgotten.
Shen Xiyu raised a hand slightly. "Prepare how?"
"Ah. I am glad you asked." The director brightened further, proving he was absolutely not glad but simply delighted by the brewing despair. "You will be preparing it yourselves."
A quiet groan drifted across the space.
The director continued, "However, you will not be given money directly."
Of course not. Why would life be easy.
Instead, he clapped his hands once. "Today, the villagers have prepared tasks. Small ones. Simple ones. Heartwarming ones."
The cast stared at him like he was reciting ancient poetry. Not a single person understood why the director always sounded so proud when announcing impending misery.
"Each pair," he said, gesturing to them with theatrical elegance, "will go around the village to meet the locals. They will assign you tasks. Complete a task, earn money. Earn money, buy materials to fix up the guest room."
"So we are doing manual labour for pocket change," Chen Yiming summarized. It was the kind of task that would be considered character-building in motivational books and character-destroying in real life.
"Exactly," the director said, utterly pleased.
Jiang Shuyue wrapped her blanket tighter. "How much money are we talking about?"
The director checked his clipboard. "Between two dollars and twenty."
Jiang Shuyue almost stopped breathing.
The livestream chat exploded.
[THE DIRECTOR IS EVIL]
[Twenty dollars is the jackpot of the century here]
[Jiang Shuyue is regretting signing the contract]
[Please let Ningning get all the twenty dollar tasks]
Sun Qiaolian asked gently, "What happens after we complete the tasks?"
"Once you earn enough," the director replied, "you may visit the small general store at the village entrance to purchase paint, decorations, cleaning supplies, small furnishings and anything else you feel will help create a warm and welcoming room for our guest."
"And if we do not earn enough?" Shen Xiyu asked.
The director smiled with serene cruelty. "Then your guest will simply have to appreciate minimalist design."
The group collectively inhaled. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed, as if announcing the official start of their doom.
Beside An Ning, the little melon gleefully twirled in the air. "Ningning. Ningning. Today will be very fun. I can feel it. Chaos energy is simmering everywhere."
An Ning rose gracefully, brushing off imaginary dust. "At least it is not a pond."
Her optimism, unfortunately, did nothing to soothe the collective trauma of yesterday’s fish encounter. The others looked at her with expressions that could only be described as betrayed.
Once the murmurs settled and everyone had accepted their fate with varying levels of resignation, the director checked his clipboard again.
The director clapped again. "Pairs will be announced shortly. Please prepare yourselves."
And with that, the day’s suffering officially began.
