With the contract signed and luggage packed, the day of departure arrived in the blink of an eye.
Carrying a tragic, solemn mood as if he were heading to a battlefield, Lin Yang boarded the plane to Yunnan Province. The first-class cabin was spacious and the service was impeccable, but he found no enjoyment in it. He spent the entire flight with his head turned toward the window, watching the rolling sea of clouds with a heart full of uncertainty.
Since the night Li Chenzhou said, “As you wish,” he had not offered any further opinions on the variety show. Even the frequency of his nightly “knock and greet” seemed to have decreased, becoming somewhat distracted. This abnormal calm weighed on Lin Yang’s heart like a massive boulder; it was far more unsettling than direct opposition. He was almost certain that Li Chenzhou would never let go so easily.
When the plane landed, a car sent by the production team was already waiting outside. He was met by a young and lively field director’s assistant named Xiao Yang, who chattered the entire way, introducing the program’s flow and precautions with a voice full of excitement.
As the car drove away from the airport, the scenery gradually shifted from urban high-rises to rolling green mountains and lush rice paddies. The air became fresh and moist, carrying the fragrance of soil and vegetation. Lin Yang took a deep breath. The long-lost sense of freedom, mixed with the unfamiliar scent of greenery, filled his lungs and allowed his tense nerves to relax slightly.
The recording location for the second season of Pastoral Song was an ancient village named “Yunxi.” The village sat against the mountains and beside the water, with winding bluestone paths and dwellings of black tiles and white walls arranged in a picturesque manner, appearing like an elegant ink wash painting. The production team had rented several renovated old houses at the entrance of the village to serve as residences for the guests and staff.
By the time Lin Yang arrived, most of the other guests had already reached the site.
As the data had suggested, the veteran actor Guo Huai was indeed kind-faced and gentle. Upon seeing Lin Yang, he took the initiative to smile and greet him, showing no arrogance as a senior. The singer, Tian Rui, was a lively and cheerful girl with a crisp voice like a happy bird, quickly bonding with the staff.
The “faded, sharp-tongued senior,” Zhao Qiming, had once been a major star but had gradually faded into obscurity due to his personality and scandals. He looked to be in his fifties, dressed sophisticatedly but in a slightly outdated style, with a lingering sense of frustration and pickiness on his face. When he saw Lin Yang, he merely flicked his eyelids and let out a cold “Hmph” from his nose, ignoring him to curry favor with Guo Huai while occasionally expressing disdain for the “frivolous atmosphere” of the modern entertainment industry.
The last to arrive was the popular starlet, Bai Lu. True to her name, she had fair skin and delicate features. She wore simple luxury sportswear and brought two assistants, making quite an entrance. Upon seeing the group, she immediately displayed a sweet, flawless smile and politely greeted everyone. Her attitude was humble, but deep in her eyes was a sense of detachment and appraisal. Especially when she saw Lin Yang, her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and her gaze lingered on his face for two seconds longer before she shifted away nonchalantly to chat enthusiastically with Tian Rui.
Lin Yang took all of this in, knowing that behind this seemingly harmonious pastoral setting lay a complex world of interpersonal politics. He kept a low profile as he settled his luggage, trying to minimize his presence.
The first day of filming was relatively light, mainly involving familiarizing themselves with the environment and learning basic farm chores, such as watering the vegetable garden and picking vegetables. Lin Yang changed into the coarse cloth clothes prepared by the crew and put on a straw hat. Mingling among the real villagers and guests, he felt a slight sense of belonging. He learned earnestly; although his movements were clumsy, his attitude was sincere. Even the elderly villager guiding him praised the boy for having “good intuition.”
Temporarily away from the city’s noise and the pressure brought by Li Chenzhou, Lin Yang felt his mood lighten for the first time in a long while. He even temporarily forgot his doubts and anxieties. Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, shimmering in the sunlight, and his lips naturally carried a trace of a real, faint smile. All of this was faithfully recorded by the cameras hidden in the corners.
However, this brief tranquility was completely shattered the following afternoon.
At the time, the guests were learning to use a traditional stone mill to make soy milk. The scene was somewhat chaotic, filled with constant laughter. Lin Yang had his sleeves rolled up and was paired with Tian Rui, pushing the heavy stone mill with effort. His face was stained with a bit of soybean dregs, looking a bit disheveled but laughing with genuine ease.
Just then, a moderate commotion broke out at the village entrance. Several black SUVs drove silently into the peaceful village, looking entirely out of place against the pastoral scenery.
Upon receiving the news, Director Zhang Ming’s expression changed slightly, and he hurried to greet the newcomers. Lin Yang’s heart sank abruptly; that familiar, suffocating premonition seized him once again. He stopped his movements, stood up, and followed everyone’s gaze.
He saw Li Chenzhou stepping out of the lead vehicle. He wasn’t wearing a suit today, but rather a set of dark casual clothes that emphasized his tall stature and cold temperament. Behind him followed Cheng Wei and several others who clearly looked like elite professionals.
Director Zhang wore a warm yet respectful smile as he stepped forward to shake hands. “President Li! Why have you come personally? You’ve truly brought honor to our little show!”
Li Chenzhou shook his hand briefly, but his gaze bypassed him, landing precisely on Lin Yang in the crowd. Seeing the image of him with his sleeves rolled up, face stained with soybean dregs, and standing next to a young actress, Li Chenzhou’s eyes darkened almost imperceptibly, though his face remained expressionless.
“I’m inspecting projects nearby and decided to stop by.”
Li Chenzhou’s voice was calm and steady, offering an irreproachable reason. It was perfectly reasonable for the lead investor to visit the set. However, the atmosphere of the entire filming site dropped to freezing point the moment he arrived.
Under Director Zhang’s accompaniment, Li Chenzhou walked straight to the temporary monitor area. A staff member immediately brought him a comfortable chair. He sat down, legs crossed, and turned his calm gaze toward the monitor screens, which were displaying real-time footage captured by various cameras.
He didn’t speak, nor did he look around; he just sat there quietly. Yet the cold, powerful aura and invisible pressure he radiated made everyone around him feel as though their breathing was restricted.
Director Zhang stood beside him with fine sweat on his temples. His originally relaxed directing style became stiff; every time he shouted “Cut” or gave instructions, he couldn’t help but glance at Li Chenzhou’s reaction first. The veteran Guo Huai remained steady, but his smile was noticeably more restrained. Tian Rui no longer dared to laugh loudly, and her movements became cautious. Zhao Qiming completely shut his habitually picky mouth, his eyes flickering as he thought of who knows what.
As for Bai Lu, she subconsciously straightened her back and tidied her hair, putting on that perfect, professional sweet smile again, though her eyes occasionally drifted toward the figure in front of the monitors.
Lin Yang stood in place, feeling as though he were locked in an icy gaze, feeling entirely uncomfortable. The relaxed ease he felt while pushing the mill vanished, replaced by a sense of restraint as if he were sitting on pins and needles. He could even feel that although Li Chenzhou’s eyes were on the monitor, the focus was entirely on the small frame containing him.
The subsequent filming became incredibly difficult. Each guest felt as though they were wearing invisible shackles; their performances became heavy-handed, and their interactions grew stiff and awkward. The originally planned natural pastoral life turned into a cautious performance under the investor’s watch.
Throughout the process, Li Chenzhou did not offer any opinions on the filming content. He only occasionally tilted his head to whisper instructions to Cheng Wei. Cheng Wei would immediately record them or turn to make arrangements.
During a break, Lin Yang wanted to get some water. Just as he picked up the bottle, he felt that gaze fall on him again. His movements froze, and he subconsciously looked over. Li Chenzhou was still looking at the monitor, but Lin Yang was almost certain that the man was watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Just then, Bai Lu carried a cup of water and walked over to Li Chenzhou with a beaming smile, her voice sweet. “President Li, the weather is hot. Would you like some water?”
Li Chenzhou looked up, scanned her briefly with a flat gaze, and offered no response before returning his eyes to the monitor. The smile on Bai Lu’s face stiffened instantly, and she stood there awkwardly, caught in a dilemma.
Watching this scene, Lin Yang felt no sense of satisfaction, but rather a deeper chill. Li Chenzhou’s arrival was not a “stop-by inspection.” He was here to declare his sovereignty. He was using this silent method to tell everyone including Lin Yang that every move he made was under observation.
His so-called freedom and opportunity were merely alms within the permitted range. This so-called pastoral song was just a magnificent cage with a different background. And the sole warden was currently sitting in front of the monitor, weaving this ubiquitous net with his icy gaze.
Lin Yang tightened his grip on the water bottle, the plastic making a slight creaking sound. He lowered his head to hide the complex emotions swirling in his eyes and swallowed the water with difficulty, only to find his mouth filled with bitterness.