Chapter 417: The Titanic? That’s Not Even as Big as Our Bathtub at Home!
Zhao Kuo Tai’s folding fan was about to shake itself to pieces, her makeup smudged and running.
“Director Wu! It’s been half an hour already!”
Zhao Kuo Tai pointed at the tour bus still belching black smoke, her voice shrill, “Are you trying to dry us out into jerky?”
Wu Tong, hiding under a tree’s shade, was sweating profusely as he shouted into his walkie-talkie, “What about the rescue vehicle? What? It’s stuck in traffic downtown?”
Lin Ouyang was trying to hitch a ride on the roadside.
He took off his sunglasses and flashed his most charming idol smile at passing private cars, trying to use that face to swipe his way into a free ride.
A BMW slowed down.
The window rolled down, and the driver leaned out, “Hey, man, car trouble? There’s a repair shop about two hundred meters ahead. Push it over yourself, don’t block the road!”
Lin Ouyang froze in place, his smile cracking.
Jiang Ci crouched on a stone post by the road. He used that pink Sailor Moon water gun to spray some water on Chu Hong’s arm to cool her down.
“Mom, how about we just walk?” Jiang Ci estimated the distance. “Twenty kilometers. If we walk fast, we can make it in four hours.”
“Walk my ass.” Chu Hong tucked the bag of air-dried sausages under her arm and stared at the road. “Watch me.”
In the distance, a loud rumbling sound approached.
A hand-towed tractor loaded with green coconuts, coughing black smoke, came “putt-putt-putting” over.
Chu Hong strode right into the middle of the road.
Her gesture was exactly like a traffic cop pulling someone over for a DUI check.
“Screech—!”
The tractor’s old man was startled and stomped on the brakes.
“Little sister, you trying to get yourself killed?” the old man shouted in a thick local dialect.
Chu Hong didn’t waste a word. She pulled two foil-wrapped sausages out of her bag and tore open one end.
“Big bro, heading to Fishing Village?”
“Give us a ride? These sausages are homemade, pure meat, no starch. Perfect with drinks.”
The old man sniffed, his eyes lighting up.
“Get on!”
Three minutes later.
The live stream screen turned into a complete circus.
Zhao Kuo Tai sat with a dark face on a mountain of stacked coconuts, her legs with nowhere to go;
Lin Ouyang gripped the railing tightly, terrified of being bounced off;
Jiang Ci sat there completely unfazed, even helping Chu Hong peel a coconut.
“Putt-putt-putt-putt—”
The tractor stylishly overtook the still-smoking tour bus.
Chu Hong sat at the very front of the trailer, facing the wind, and chatted loudly with the old man:
“Big bro, looks like the coconut harvest is good this year? This load should fetch a decent price, right?”
“Not bad! It’s just the fuel prices have gone up like crazy!”
The bullet comments flooded the screen:
[THIS is what you call social genius! Two sausages for a convertible!]
[Zhao Kuo Tai’s expression is killing me, she’s never ridden anything this down-to-earth in her life!]
[Jiang Ci’s coconut-peeling move is so smooth, he’s definitely practiced!]
……
Half an hour later, Fishing Village, Seaview Villa Number One.
Despite the rocky journey, this villa didn’t disappoint the program crew’s hype.
Backed by the mountain and facing the sea, with an all-glass curtain wall, an infinity pool sparkling like a sapphire under the sun.
When Wu Tong finally arrived, covered in dust and sweat, the guests were already in the lobby enjoying the air conditioning.
“Ahem.” Wu Tong straightened his sweat-soaked clothes. “Given the unexpected situation just now, we’ll jump straight into the room selection round.”
He pointed at the big screen behind him.
It showed the villa’s floor plan.
Room One: Presidential Suite. Two hundred square meters, panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, a circular whirlpool bathtub, the height of luxury.
Room Two: Seaview Standard Room. Nothing special.
Room Three: …
Room Four: Maid’s Room. On the basement level, ten square meters, with only a single bed.
“The rules are simple.” Wu Tong pulled out a stack of cards. “Pictionary. Three minutes per round. The family with the most correct guesses picks their room first.”
Lin Ouyang’s group went first.
The prompts were easy, and the pair worked well together, getting eight right.
Zhao Kuo Tai’s group, though noisy and quarrelsome, still managed five correct.
It was Jiang Ci’s turn.
Jiang Ci stood up and cracked his wrists.
“Mom, watch me.” Jiang Ci was full of confidence. “We’re taking first place, and we’re staying in that big house.”
Chu Hong cracked sunflower seeds: “Fine. You act, I guess.”
First word: [Titanic].
Jiang Ci instantly slipped into character.
His gaze turned deeply passionate. He spread his arms wide, leaning his body forward.
At that moment, he was no longer Jiang Ci. He was Jack.
That broken feeling, that yearning for freedom—it radiated through the screen.
Everyone on set held their breath. This was the power of a Film Emperor!
Chu Hong stared at her son for a long time.
“You’re going to fly?” Chu Hong ventured.
Jiang Ci shook his head.
He pulled over a chair, pretending it was the railing, and struck that iconic, deeply loving gaze.
Then he wrapped his arms around an imaginary lover, shivering, conveying the bone-piercing cold of the sea.
Chu Hong frowned, then suddenly had a revelation: “Oh—!”
Jiang Ci’s eyes lit up.
Chu Hong: “You fell into a manure pit?”
“Pfft—” Wu Tong sprayed water everywhere.
Jiang Ci stumbled, nearly falling for real.
He started gesturing for the giant ship.
He outlined a shape with his hands, then made motions of collision and breaking apart.
Chu Hong watched her son flailing around—crashing, splitting.
“I’ve got it!” Chu Hong slapped her thigh. “That leaky bathtub we used to have at home!”
Jiang Ci: “……”
“No?” Chu Hong was getting anxious.
“Then this thing you’re gesturing isn’t even that big. Looks smaller than our bathtub at home. It must be that broken pressure cooker we had!”
Time was up.
Correct guesses: 0.
The bullet comments had already lost it:
[Hahahaha! Holy crap, a leaky bathtub!]
[Jiang Ci’s acting just hit the biggest Waterloo of his career!]
[In his mom’s eyes, the Titanic can’t hold a candle to a pressure cooker!]
No surprises.
Zhao Kuo Tai, thanks to her lucky break, got the presidential suite.
Jiang Ci’s group ended up dead last, scoring the basement maid’s room.
“Oh my, I really have to thank you for letting me have it.”
Zhao Kuo Tai, holding the golden room card, covered her mouth in a deliberately demure laugh.
Basement level.
Although called a maid’s room, it was actually fairly clean.
Most importantly, this room connected to the villa’s kitchen. Pushing open the back door led straight to a lush green vegetable garden.
“This is a good spot.” Chu Hong nodded approvingly. “Close to the food, easy to run. Even if there’s an earthquake, we’ll be the first ones out.”
Jiang Ci put down his luggage and gave a helpless smile.
He knew his mother was using her own way to preserve his dignity.
Night fell.
The sea wind howled, slamming against the glass windows.
Top floor, presidential suite.
Suddenly.
A gecko crawled along the wall, its shadow stretching long across the floor-to-ceiling window in the moonlight.
“Ahhh—!!!”
A blood-curdling scream pierced the night.
At the same time, basement level.
A stainless steel wok sat on the induction cooker.
The water was boiling, rolling with a milky white broth.
Chu Hong pulled two instant noodle cakes from her bag and tossed them in, then sliced up some air-dried sausages.
Finally, she swiped a few unwanted large prawns and some greens from the kitchen’s freezer.
Gurgle, gurgle.
Steam rose, a rich, irresistible aroma filled the entire tiny room.
Jiang Ci sat cross-legged on the bed, holding a large bowl of seafood noodle soup.
He slurped up a big mouthful of noodles, squinting in contentment.
The screams from upstairs were faintly audible.
“Mom, sounds like someone’s screaming upstairs?” Jiang Ci bit into a springy prawn.
Chu Hong, peeling garlic with her head down, didn’t look up: “They’re not hungry enough yet. When you’re really hungry, you don’t have the energy to scream.”
She put her own shrimp into Jiang Ci’s bowl, her tone casual: “Eat up. Tomorrow’s probably going to be more trouble. Hanging out with that bunch, it’s not easy to get a decent meal.”
Jiang Ci looked at the pile of prawns in his bowl, then out the window at the pitch-black yet peaceful garden.
At this moment, no presidential suite, no ocean view.
None of it could match the solid comfort of this bowl of noodles.
That was his mother’s philosophy.
No matter if you’re a Film Emperor or a top star out there,
not going hungry was the biggest deal of all.