Fu Rong had discovered a potato field along the way, which was why he had come back to tell the other two.
Zhu Lianzhen asked, “Are they wild?”
“They were probably planted by villagers on the island a long time ago,” Tan Qing said. “Let’s look around and see if there’s anything else nearby.”
“I’ll go back and grab a bucket.” Zhu Lianzhen hurried off, stopping halfway to splash cold water on his face.
As noon approached, everyone regrouped at the tent. Ji Yunting had nothing to show for his efforts and held his fishing rod in dejection. Koty, on the other hand, had more fun hunting crabs and caught six. But after comparing them to the identification guide, they found that four were poisonous.
Zhu Lianzhen squatted on the ground, washing the potatoes. Tilting his head up, he said, “Why do you always manage to pick the poisonous ones? You must be toxic yourself.”
Koty grinned as he came over to help. “Hey, once we’re back in Ronggang, let’s have some barbecue. I’ll grill mushrooms for you.”
“Scram, scram, scram!” Zhu Lianzhen splashed him with water.
A bucketful of potatoes was soon washed, but the question remained—how were they going to cook them? Ji Yunting looked up at the sky and noticed it was sunny enough to use the solar panel to recharge the equipment.
“How about trying the air fryer? The generator should at least last until tomorrow.”
Everyone agreed with Ji Yunting’s suggestion. After all, the supplies on the island had been chosen through fan voting, so no matter how outrageous the items were, they deserved a chance to appear on screen.
Tan Qing cleaned the knife, planning to make hasselback potatoes. Coincidentally, they still had two seasoning packets left from yesterday’s noodles, which could be heated in water and spread on top for flavor.
Within a few minutes, the aroma of potatoes wafted out from the air fryer.
The warming weather had brought an increase in unidentified flying insects on the island. As Koty was talking, a large jet-black bee started buzzing right around his face.
He immediately darted over to his teammates, dodging and weaving. “AHHH! There’s a bug! A really big bug!”
Ji Yunting: “We see it, we see it. Stop yelling.”
Hearing the commotion, Fu Rong glanced over. Before anyone else could react, he swiftly reached out and caught the bee with precision, avoiding the stinger at just the right angle.
“Damn!” Zhu Lianzhen was stunned. “With that kind of hand speed, you must’ve been digging out people’s eyeballs in a past life.”
Fu Rong calmly gripped the bee’s wings, his eyes cold as he held it out toward Koty and said in a low voice, “Weren’t you hungry? Open your mouth.”
Koty was in a dilemma. His fear of insects nearly sent him into a meltdown, but the thought of being hand-fed by Fu Rong was just too tempting.
Just as he was struggling to make a decision, Zhu Lianzhen quickly slapped Fu Rong’s hand away and scolded Koty, “That’s disgusting! You were actually considering it!”
Fu Rong clicked his tongue, looking thoroughly uninterested.
After lunch, the sunlight became even stronger. They found a shady spot under the trees to cool off and discussed what to do next.
Zhu Lianzhen said, “We still have a bag of glutinous rice. The fans want to see us make zongzi.”
“Just plain rice? That’d be so bland.”
“How about crab roe filling?”
“You think it’s that easy to find crabs with roe? Let alone enough of them.”
“Actually, white glutinous rice dipped in sugar is really good.”
“Nice idea, but do we even have sugar?”
“We need a table,” Tan Qing interjected.
“A table’s way too big to hide. If there were one around, we would’ve found it already.”
Tan Qing said, “We can make one ourselves.”
Everyone looked at him, and from the expression on his face, it didn’t seem like he was joking. He surveyed the surroundings and said, “There’s a lot of wood and bamboo around. The side of our entrenching tool works as a saw. I think it’s worth a try.”
Koty eagerly went to help. The others were too lazy to move and just sat there watching the two of them fiddle with the materials. Since they had no nails, they had to use traditional joinery. Tan Qing used a knife to mark the cuts, and Koty held the wood steady with his foot while sawing.
Zhu Lianzhen leaned against Ji Yunting’s back, using him as a cushion, and muttered, “How does Tan Qing know how to do this?”
Ji Yunting shouted at Tan Qing, “How do you even know how to do this stuff!”
“Learned it while filming another variety show,” Tan Qing replied. “But I only remember a few of the simplest structures. If it doesn’t work out, just have the editors cut this part.”
Turns out he had a good memory. The sawn wooden pieces fit together using notched joints. He even added four crossbars between the legs for stability. There were still some gaps, but the flaws didn’t overshadow the result. It was good enough to last them the next few days.
Exhausted after all the work, Koty lay down in the shade, leaving Tan Qing alone to smooth out the edges and corners of the table with the knife.
Zhu Lianzhen whispered to Ji Yunting again, “Do you think Tan Qing watches those kinds of videos where people saw wood, cut soap, or trim horse hooves when he’s bored?”
Ji Yunting shouted at Tan Qing, “Do you watch people cut wood in your free time!”
Tan Qing turned to glance at him but didn’t respond.
“Looks like he doesn’t,” Ji Yunting told Zhu Lianzhen. “Also, can you get lost? Stop sticking to me.”
A warm afternoon like this made it especially easy to get lazy. Zhu Lianzhen pretended not to hear, using Ji Yunting’s back as a pillow to doze off. Besides the sound of the waves, all he heard was the soft scraping of wood being smoothed.
After a while, Zhu Lianzhen noticed the surroundings had gone quiet. He kept his eyes closed and mumbled to Ji Yunting, “Is the table done?”
“No.”
Zhu Lianzhen opened his eyes slightly and squinted at the ground, where a pile of green bamboo strips had accumulated. Tan Qing had shaved them down, and they looked pretty flexible.
Zhu Lianzhen whispered, “Are those going to be used as rope?”
Ji Yunting finally lost patience with his endless questions. “Why don’t you just ask Tan Qing yourself! Stop making me your messenger!”
Zhu Lianzhen gritted his teeth, thinking to himself: This guy is so clueless—can’t he tell I really don’t want to talk to Tan Qing?
He turned over behind Ji Yunting, avoiding looking in Tan Qing’s direction. He didn’t need to look to know Tan Qing was definitely staring at him.
Might as well keep pretending to sleep.
And just like that, he actually dozed off.
When he woke again, he felt a cool, ticklish sensation on his face. He reached up and wiped at it, discovering drops of water rolling down his cheeks.
Tan Qing’s voice was close, so soft it felt like something whispered in a dream. “Don’t lie out here. You’ll get heatstroke.”
Still half-asleep, Zhu Lianzhen sat up and saw Tan Qing holding a bottle of water, his fingertips wet. Without saying anything, Zhu Lianzhen got up and went back into the tent to sleep.
By evening, the sound of the others chatting and joking outside woke him. He unzipped the tent and saw a boat approaching the shore from the sea.
Qiu Hao had arrived with a few directors and cameramen to check on their progress and see if they had enough footage recorded.
Since the cameras weren’t rolling at the moment, Zhu Lianzhen sat by the sea, letting the breeze clear away the last of his drowsiness. His previously dyed hair had mostly faded, leaving a pale golden color that made his already fair skin appear even brighter and more striking.
Qiu Hao, unaware that he’d just woken from a nap, assumed his listless expression was due to dissatisfaction with the show. He walked over and said, “I’ve got good news. Want to hear it?”
Zhu Lianzhen looked up at him. “Hm?”
“I went back and confirmed with my colleagues yesterday. Actually, the guest they want to invite is you,” Qiu Hao said. “The details will come later through your manager—I’m just giving you a heads-up.”
Zhu Lianzhen swept the hair from his forehead and looked at Qiu Hao, rubbing his temples. After a moment of silence, he let out a confused, “Huh?” and frowned. “Why me?”
“You haven’t taken on any similar gigs before, right? From what I remember, all the guests on the shortlist are in the same boat. There’s a host, an athlete…” Qiu Hao listed a few names, each a representative figure in a different field. “Viewers are tired of the usual dating show cast. Choosing people like you, who seem totally straightforward and clueless about love, is perfect!”
“What kind of reason is that…” Zhu Lianzhen sighed. “I’m not interested in that kind of show. You don’t need to contact Pei-jie. I can turn it down right now.”
“At least take a look at the show outline before deciding. It’s different from what you’ve seen before—” Qiu Hao trailed off, suddenly distracted. “Hey, Tan Qing’s coming over.”
Zhu Lianzhen didn’t even turn around. He just heard the sound of footsteps slowly crunching through the sand behind him.
“Did you hear what I just said?” Qiu Hao asked.
“Mm.” Tan Qing lowered his head to look at Zhu Lianzhen, who was still sitting on the beach, and reached out to ruffle his fluffy hair. “That’s great. It suits him.”
Zhu Lianzhen clicked his tongue, clearly not wanting to take part in the conversation. But Qiu Hao kept trying to persuade him. “It’s fine, you don’t need any acting skills. What the audience wants to see are the real reactions of guests being forced to play along. The awkward moments are part of the fun.”
Zhu Lianzhen called him out. “That’s just your own messed-up sense of fun!”
Tan Qing chimed in, “Didn’t you always say you like trying different kinds of work? The fans would probably find it refreshing too.”
Zhu Lianzhen tilted his head to dodge Tan Qing’s hand and said to Qiu Hao, “I’m tired of faking it for the cameras. Just let Tan Qing do it—he’s good at that.”
In the distance, the crew had finished checking the cameras and called the director over. Qiu Hao said, “We should head out. You guys keep at it, and don’t go eating random stuff on the island.”
Zhu Lianzhen flicked his hand twice, motioning for him to leave already.
“You really don’t want to do it?” Tan Qing asked quietly.
Zhu Lianzhen muttered, “Stop with the nonsense. If you wanna go, just go.”
“So you’re just dumping the job you don’t like on me?”
“That’s not what I meant. Don’t take it out of context.” Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t help but turn and glare at him. “This kind of show’s obviously for boosting popularity, but I find it troublesome. I’m giving you this great opportunity, okay?”
Tan Qing smiled. “Alright. Since it’s a heartfelt gesture, I’ll accept it.”
“…Suit yourself.”
Koty seemed to have run into trouble again and called out for everyone to come over. Standing on a reef, he pointed toward the sea. “Look, there’s a whirlpool!”
“That’s it? You’re making a fuss over nothing.”
Seeing how the water was being drawn into the vortex, Koty immediately thought of a bathtub and blurted out what he felt was the perfect analogy. “It’s like the ocean had its plug pulled out!”[mfn]while he meant to say drain plug, it sounds like butt plug[/mfn]
“…” The others stared at him with complicated expressions, silently praying that line wouldn’t make it into the final cut.
As the sun began to set, they used the remaining daylight to split up and prepare dinner. Zhu Lianzhen went with Fu Rong to dig for sand crabs. Fu Rong did the spotting while Zhu Lianzhen handled the catching, but he had no idea how to deal with the crabs and got his fingers pinched several times.
Fu Rong: “Can’t you try holding them differently?”
Zhu Lianzhen shrugged it off. “So what if it pinches? It doesn’t even—ow!”
Just as he said that, the crab in his hand clamped down again. He flung it away and realized his finger was actually bleeding.
“Got any tissues?” he asked.
Fu Rong looked at him like he couldn’t be bothered to waste words on an idiot. “Smash that thing in your pocket. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”
Zhu Lianzhen had nearly forgotten about the cattail Tan Qing had picked for him that morning to play with. He quickly crushed it, and a big puff of fluffy fibers emerged.
The wound wasn’t serious, and it would probably stop bleeding by the time he went back for a band-aid. But the idea of using something from the wild made him hesitate. What if it was dirty and caused an infection?
“Maybe I should just lick it…”
“Are you a dog?” Fu Rong grabbed the hand holding the cattail and pressed the fluff to the wound.
“That’s it?”
“Mm. Didn’t Tan Qing tell you?”
Zhu Lianzhen shook his head, his brain lagging a beat before catching up. “How did you know it was from him?”
“Like you’d even know what that is,” Fu Rong replied, poking at the crabs in the bucket with his shovel. “He probably saw it and picked it for you to play with.”
Spot on.
Zhu Lianzhen sulkily sifted through the sand beside him. Why did it feel like everyone around him understood the two of them better than he did?
