Chapter Nineteen: Ah, This Person Is Truly Mother!

"Mr. Zhang, we've found it."

Zhang Huai's secretary hurried into his office.

"The investor for the show is Rosewood Records. No other entertainment company is involved."

At this, Zhang Huai's lips curled into a smile.

"With Rosewood's current size, investing in a variety show like this is practically betting the farm, isn't it?"

"If this show fails, it'll be a fatal blow to Su Zitan."

Rubbing his chin, he let out two low chuckles.

Just because you've latched onto Su Zitan, you think you can act so arrogantly. When Su Zitan is out of the picture, let's see how you fight us then.

You'll soon learn that talent is worthless before capital!

It had to be said—Zhang Huai's methods were cunning.

He'd found a foreigner, making it nearly impossible for Lin Ze to file a lawsuit against him. Coupled with the public's tendency to idolize foreigners, most believed that a foreign piano master would never stoop to plagiarism or slander.

He could stay out of this mess entirely. If money can solve a problem, it's not a problem at all.

"How's our trainee variety show coming along?"

"We're ready to start filming anytime!" the secretary replied immediately. "Trainees from all the companies are waiting for this show!"

"Excellent! Start shooting on Monday!"

Zhang Huai glanced at several screens on his computer and shook his head in boredom.

"The same live broadcast format... What's the point of watching these state-owned celebrities live-streaming themselves selling groceries and cooking meals? We're streaming the love and intrigue between fresh-faced idols—how can they possibly compete with us?"

A good variety show needs drama, full of twists and turns. Zhang Huai had even spent a million on scriptwriters for his show.

When those trainees with flawless skin and stunning looks appeared on camera...

"Our Love"? Whose love could possibly matter?

"Not just that—hasn't Tong County been electing a county arts troupe or something?"

Zhang Huai tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table.

"Isn't Li Xiangyu's alma mater in Tong County? Have him go back and play up the nostalgia, skip the preliminaries, and go straight to the county arts troupe's semi-finals."

"This time, don't give Lin Ze a chance to make a comeback!"

...

"Huh?"

"Why is today's dish different?"

An aunt picked up a piece of stir-fried pork intestine.

It used to be deep-fried first, but today's was pan-seared.

Lin Ze held a box of rice, took a bite, and was immediately struck by a sense of familiarity.

"Auntie, where did you order the food from today?"

"Don't call me auntie, call me sister!" she said, giving him a look of mild annoyance. "It's from a shop called Bowl & Bowl by the plaza."

"Is it Sister Xue's place?" Su Zitan whispered.

"Should be. Let's drop by in a few days," Lin Ze nodded.

This morning, Director Zhang had given them twenty yuan as starting capital.

They bought two pancakes for breakfast, spending eight yuan, so twelve remained. Lunch had been paid for by the uncles and aunties.

While eating, Lin Ze was already thinking about how to earn money.

Where could they make some cash? Would they really have to beg while completing tasks?

The enthusiasm from the uncles and aunties was infectious, and soon they had nearly mastered the piece.

It wasn't perfect, but they were stage-ready.

Once the group could play together, Lin Ze made sure Xiao Qian stayed away, lest the tune leak early and spoil the show's effect.

After their first run-through, Old Wang was overjoyed.

"Xiao Zhou, we really owe you this time."

"This song is wonderful!"

"It's not just that the melody is rich in traditional elements—the lyrics are full of poetry."

"Uncle Wang, are you confident now?" Lin Ze asked with a smile.

"I am!" Old Wang nodded earnestly. "We'll definitely pass the preliminaries. But for the semis and finals..."

"Don't worry, we'll be ready for anything."

After sending the uncles and aunties off to the road, each carrying their instruments, Old Wang announced he was off to gather intel from the Western orchestra.

"Shouldn't we get on with our task?" Lin Ze asked, resigned. "What kind of task requires us to dress as beggars?"

Su Zitan sipped water, her voice already hoarse.

"So what do we do?" She tossed her empty bottle into the bin and grinned foolishly. "How about you do old-age makeup for me, and I'll play your senile son?"

"Who's going to sing then? The senile son?" Lin Ze scoffed.

"You're still not leaving?" Old Wang came out of the park in high spirits and saw the two of them at the entrance.

"Hey, Uncle Wang, do you have any unwanted clothes? Preferably some really baggy pants."

"Huh?"

"The baggier the better. And the more worn-out the shirts, the better."

...

As the sun set, in a small alley near Tong County's commercial plaza, a girl with white marks on her face pushed a middle-aged man missing a leg in a small cart.

On the cart sat a speaker.

The girl pushed the man all the way to the plaza.

It was a busy time of day, with crowds of young people and families with children.

Not far off, there were elderly ladies like Lin Ze carrying speakers, preparing to dance.

Their odd pairing drew plenty of attention along the way.

Of course, the duo was Lin Ze and Su Zitan.

Su Zitan had relented, agreeing to play the daughter.

A cameraman with an inconspicuous face hid among the crowd, filming as Lin Ze pulled out a stainless steel bowl and set it on the ground before him.

"Hello everyone, I'm a father," he announced.

"We're from Taixian next door. A cruel car accident destroyed my family!"

He gripped the microphone, his voice breaking with grief.

People turned to look, noticing his empty pant legs.

Beside him, Su Zitan wore a tattered school uniform, clutching a dirty textbook.

Lin Ze opened his throat, his wailing heavy.

"Your new schoolbag for the first day—someone gave it to you!"

"Your new floral umbrella for school—someone held it for you!"

"Your favorite food... Thank you, kind soul! May you be blessed forever!"

His shout startled the kind man who had just put two yuan in the bowl.

Lin Ze forced his voice to sound like a man in his forties—hoarse and deep.

"Ah, this person is my mother..."

"Ah, this person is my mom!"

"This person gave me life, gave me a..."

"Thank you, kind soul!"

[Wait, is that really Brother Lin? Where are his legs? Where did his legs go!?]

[Did Brother Lin amputate for the show?]

[What an old tune—is this an original?]

[Legs... look at his pants. His backside seems bigger.]

Across the street, the owner of a small restaurant emerged, curiosity piqued by the commotion.