CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: OPERATION: CHICKENS

Just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, it got worse.

Of course, the director wouldn’t stop at merely dropping them into the countryside to "experience the charm of rural life."

No, he had bigger dreams—dreams involving sweat, rivalry, and ideally, a few tears.

Because to make a successful show, there needed to be conflict.

Or better yet, competition.

The kind where pride and attraction collided under the sun, producing exactly the kind of emotional chaos that audiences devoured.

And if—by some miracle—romance bloomed out of it?

Well, that would be the golden ticket.

From behind the monitor, the director adjusted his cap and grinned. "Team challenges," he said, positively glowing with satisfaction. "Viewers love teamwork. Especially when it falls apart halfway through."

His production assistant gave him a look. "You mean... character development?"

"Same thing," he said cheerfully. "Tomato, tomhato."

Meanwhile, out in the field, none of the participants were aware that their misery was about to be repackaged as "authentic emotional growth."

Wu Shiyun was still trying to angle her sunhat against the glare. Jiang Shuyue had already claimed the only shady spot near the water barrels.

And An Ning—ever calm, ever perceptive—was watching the director’s expression from afar, a thoughtful look on her face.

She recalled that it wasn’t supposed to go like this in the original timeline.

There had been no farming, no team challenges, no sweat-soaked "love through labour."

This—whatever it was—didn’t exist before.

The world, she realised, was shifting again.

Not through her interference this time, but on its own — and if the world could change by itself, maybe fate wasn’t fixed anymore.

And that, in itself, was very good news to her.

*****

But if someone were to ask the director, he would swear—without hesitation—that An Ning had something to do with it.

Ever since she joined the show, everything seemed to come alive.

Moments that should’ve been flat suddenly sparked to life. Conversations that would’ve ended in polite awkwardness somehow turned into memorable scenes—witty, sharp, and just a little dangerous.

It wasn’t that she tried to steal the spotlight. She simply carried one with her.

Even the dullest setups—the scenic walks, the cooking tasks, the awkward silences—became magnetic the moment she appeared.

Let’s not forget the escape room episode where An Ning literally broke the door. Or those times when Sun Qiaolian tried to play the moral compass and An Ning called her out on it.

The crew called it "The An Ning Effect."

[Every episode gets better when she opens her mouth 😭]

[I swear I wait just to hear what An Ning will say next.]

[She says the things I only dare to think 😭💀]

[She’s not pretending for the camera—she’s just herself, and it’s addictive to watch.]

While there was definitely no script in the dating show—the director would stake what was left of his hairline on that—there should at least be something that resembled romance.

Yet somehow, this season had none—or maybe there was, if one needed a magnifying glass.

No candlelit tension.

No accidental brushes of hands.

Not even one slow-motion look backed by sentimental music.

And the director was fairly certain that this, too, was An Ning’s fault.

Ever since she’d joined, the romance quota had plummeted. Conversations became sharper, reactions quicker; the air crackled with wit, not longing.

Every time he tried to steer things toward "sweet," she’d turn it into "smart." Every potential love-triangle scene ended with her stealing the spotlight—not through flirting, but by winning the dialogue.

The others wilted next to her; they couldn’t keep up.

It was infuriating. It was brilliant. And it made incredible television.

The director sighed, rubbing his temples. "Romance, An Ning," he muttered to himself, watching her on the monitor. "Not ratings domination."

But this time—this farming edition—he was determined to make it happen.

If the sparks wouldn’t come naturally, he’d light the match himself.

*****

A beat later, a sharp voice cut through the field:

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE TO CATCH CHICKENS OURSELVES?!" Wu Shiyun’s horror echoed across the open countryside.

The director flinched but forced a smile. "Ah. The romance spark... just needs time."

His assistant muttered, "If by spark you mean public meltdown."

"Details," the director waved him off.

Out in the field, the chaos had already begun.

Wu Shiyun clutched the hem of her designer dress like she was about to fend off a battlefield, glaring at the innocent chickens pecking the ground. "They have faces! I can’t catch something that looks at me!"

Chen Yiming adjusted his gloves, voice perfectly calm. "They’re birds, Miss Wu. Not philosophers."

The way he said it—flat, clinical—made it sound like a diagnosis.

Wu Shiyun glared. "Easy for you to say, Doctor! You deal with humans, not flying things with claws!"

An Ning bit back a laugh, crouched near the fence. "You do realise chickens can’t fly, right?"

"Then why do they jump like that?!" Wu Shiyun demanded as one flapped past her feet, feathers flying.

The camera zoomed in perfectly on her expression of betrayal.

[She’s really fighting for her life out there 😭]

[I don’t know who’s suffering more, the chicken or Miss Wu 😭💀]

[The chaos-to-romance pipeline better deliver.]

The chaos only escalated when the director’s voice came over the loudspeaker again, far too cheerful for the devastation he was causing.

"Alright, everyone! Today’s first challenge is simple—catch as many chickens as you can within thirty minutes! The pair with the highest count gets first pick of the farmhouse rooms!"

A stunned silence fell over the group.

Then Wu Shiyun pointed dramatically at the camera. "You’re kidding."

"I assure you, Miss Wu," the director said, "nothing about this is a joke!"

Jiang Shuyue fanned herself lazily. "So... manual labour and chicken chasing. Romantic."

Sun Qiaolian clasped her hands, her expression painfully earnest. "It’s a wonderful idea — a simple life teaches humility."

Wu Shiyun turned to her, aghast. "Humility? I’m wearing Dior!"

An Ning had to look away to hide her laugh. "Consider it a lesson in adaptability."

"Adaptability?" Wu Shiyun cried. "These are creatures with talons!"

Chen Yiming, who had been inspecting the chicken pen with the same grim focus he probably used in surgery, said flatly, "I’d like to remind everyone that birds are more afraid of you than you are of them."

"Speak for yourself," Wu Shiyun muttered. "They look fearless."

[They’ve officially given up on romance and moved straight into survival mode 😭]

[The show’s turning into National Geographic at this point 💀]

[I can’t believe I’m watching rich people learn fear of chickens.]

The director beamed from behind his monitor. "Perfect! The viewers will love this. See? Teamwork, panic, a little chaos—it’s natural bonding!"

His assistant eyed the screen where Wu Shiyun nearly tripped over her heels. "You sure it’s bonding and not mutual trauma?"

"Same thing!" the director said brightly. "We are on the right track!"

An Ning watched the director through the lens, one brow arched. Somewhere deep down, she had a feeling his idea of romance was about to go wildly off-script.

And if this was his idea of romance... she almost felt sorry for whoever fell into it next.