Chapter 78

After chatting with Jin Yannan all afternoon, it was almost the end of the workday by the time Wei Sheng got out.

After 4 p.m. was always the busiest time at the TV station. Many reporters who had been out gathering news returned, rushing back to their offices to write scripts, edit footage, and compete intensely with each other.

Seeing that there was still time, Wei Sheng quickly went to find Wang Qun to ask where the next episode would be filmed.

The last trip to Huazi Village nearly ended in disaster for him and Zhang Zexuan. This time, no matter what, he had to prepare in advance—most importantly, when scouting the site, he absolutely must not bring Brother Zhang again!

That guy might look cool on the outside, but he’s soft-hearted to the extreme! Last time in Huazi Village, even though an old classmate of Zhang’s had repeatedly warned them not to give the beggars too much money, the moment Zhang saw those pitiful kids, he grabbed a handful of coins and handed them over. It was like announcing, “I’m an easy target!” If not him, who else would they squeeze?

Wang Qun was quite happy to see him and quickly handed over the information about the filming location for the next episode for Wei Sheng to review.

As the originator of the “Wei Sheng is a lucky star” theory, Wang Qun had developed a bit of superstition around the kid’s mysterious ability to attract viral attention.

He always felt uneasy until Wei Sheng had looked at the script.

This time, they were heading to a poverty-stricken township in a province J region that held a somewhat different significance.

Jiangdong Town—once a booming coal resource hub that had flourished thanks to its energy reserves. Back when province J was heavily developing its steel and metallurgy industries, Jiangdong, as a coal supplier, had frequent exchanges with the province. Even now, quite a few people who got rich off coal trade have bought property and invested in businesses here. There’s even a sizeable Jiangdong Fellowship Association in the area.

Jiangdong Town stood out from numerous contenders this time precisely because of the efforts of that Jiangdong Fellowship.

“They’re a sentimental bunch. They made their fortunes reselling coal from Jiangdong, and now that they’ve heard the folks back home are struggling, they feel bad and reached out to us. They’re hoping we might be able to help,” Wang Qun sighed.

Of course, the benefactors weren’t asking the production crew to work for free. There’s also a Jiangdong Business Association involved. They promised that if the crew could help lift Jiangdong’s people out of poverty, they would bring in advertising sponsorships worth no less than 50 million.

Wei Sheng skimmed through the materials sent from Jiangdong Town and felt that Director Wang was once again dancing on the edge of disaster.

Jiangdong Town was not going to be easy!

The towns they had visited before either boasted picturesque scenery and rich tourism resources, or came with built-in buzz—like Huangjiabao, which was even named on national TV.

Oh, Jiangdong Town had been on national TV too—just not in a good way. Frequent coal mine accidents, environmental degradation, water contamination, rampant local criminal organizations… It had been repeatedly exposed in investigative segments and legal news programs.

Wei Sheng didn’t put much trust in the government’s official documents. Fortunately, with today’s internet, all it took was a quick search of “Jiangdong Town” and a flood of negative news came pouring out!

Aside from the pinned encyclopedia entry, at least seven out of every ten search results were negative.

As a former coal production site, Jiangdong Town once discovered a large coal mine. At its peak, this small township had hundreds of coal mines. But as the coal resources dried up and the environment deteriorated, the local rich who had made their fortunes from mining moved away.

What was left behind? Ruined and hollowed-out mines, sunken ground, collapsed houses—and thousands of families who simply couldn’t afford to relocate.

Life was hard. The little land they had was polluted by coal mining, making it impossible to grow crops or raise livestock. So how did they survive?

Risking their lives, some families banded together to secretly dig out coal from abandoned mines and resell it at low prices.

Others would gather outside the still-operational mines and block coal trucks as they left. If lucky, they’d get ten or twenty yuan. If not, there were countless stories of people getting injured or killed by speeding coal trucks.

The public safety situation there was awful too.

It was as if poverty were a kind of original sin, the root of all evil. Despite how poor the area was, dowries for marriage started at 200,000 yuan—and could go as high as 300,000 or even 500,000.

Only those who had gone through marriage knew that an exorbitant bride price wasn’t always a good thing for women.

Because that money often didn’t go to the bride. Instead, the groom’s family, having gone into massive debt just to pay the dowry, would treat the new couple’s debts as a shared burden after marriage.

And due to the heavy financial strain, domestic violence cases were extremely common. There was even a high-profile case that trended online—a woman who, after suffering abuse from her husband and mother-in-law due to her family asking for a high dowry, poisoned his entire family with a bottle of paraquat, then drowned herself. The tragedy stayed on the trending topics for days.

Even now, if you search “Jiangdong Town,” related reports of that story still pop up…

Impoverished mountains, hostile terrain, and difficult people—was Director Wang trying to hit the self-destruct button?

“Ahem—what nonsense! This is a law-abiding nation under broad daylight, and we’ve got the local government backing us. What self-destruct button?” Wang Qun tapped the coffee table, then pointed at the stack of documents. “Those are just the parts they could write down. There are things they can’t commit to paper. I’ll brief you verbally.”

This time, the Jiangdong Fellowship and the local government had come to an agreement. They were determined to find a path forward for the people of Jiangdong. These business owners were going to spend on ads anyway—why not invest in Retracing the Road to Poverty Alleviation? At least that way, they could give their hometown, where they once struggled and thrived, a glimmer of hope.

“Oh right, Jiangdong Town also said it’s not completely without resources.” Wang Qun suddenly remembered something and flipped through the documents, pointing to a particular data section. “Look, Xiao Wei—ever since the coal dried up, many of the mines shut down. The coal bosses fled, the miners left. But the dormitories they built for workers? Those are all vacant now. Think we can make something out of those empty houses?”

Data alone wasn’t enough to go on, so Wei Sheng pulled out his phone and searched for images of these “coal miner dormitory districts.”

What he found was equal parts hilarious and depressing—the top search results were all ghost stories and paranormal legends!

Apparently, during Jiangdong’s coal mining boom, tens of thousands of miners lived in those dorms. Some even brought their families, forming entire “miner villages.”

But after the mines shut down and workers moved away to make a living elsewhere, these once-bustling areas turned into ghost towns.

If people were still living there, maybe the government would consider repairing the buildings. But the problem was, no one lived there anymore—and so the buildings had no value to renovate.

Just like that, year after year, those abandoned “miner villages” gradually became havens for foxes, yellow weasels, wild dogs, and stray cats. At night, the sound of collapsing houses mixed with the eerie clashes of wild animals scouring for food—strange and terrifying. It’s no wonder this place turned into a popular “haunted house” spot for curious young people seeking thrills…

Wait a minute!

Haunted house?!

“Director Wang, this ghost town in Jiangdong might actually have huge potential!”

Why are bathhouses in the city going out of business these days? Because all the young people are off playing escape rooms and murder mystery games, of course!

Just look at those escape room and mystery game venues in the provincial capital—how much money have they poured into decorations and setting the mood? And still, players constantly complain that it’s not immersive enough, the props are too cheap.

But what if you set the scene in Jiangdong’s abandoned miner village and created an outdoor, large-scale immersive role-playing game with zombie or doomsday survival themes? Just imagining it made Wei Sheng want to throw his money at it.

“And not just for young people, Director Wang. What if we also tried developing a coal mine-themed amusement park in Jiangdong?”

“Aren’t schools always preaching environmental awareness nowadays? How can you truly understand the destruction of the environment and the harm it does to Earth and humanity just by reading books?”

“We could totally select one of the safer abandoned mines in Jiangdong—ideally one with an adjacent miner village—and work with the local government to attract tourism investors. Then we could develop a full-on coal mine theme park.”

“Ticket prices and activity fees are one thing, but think about it—Jiangdong’s got basically no tourism industry right now. If we build a theme park and people start coming to visit, they’re not going to turn around and leave the same day, right? They’re not going to crash at some villager’s house either. So wouldn’t we need hotels, restaurants, shopping? That’s where the real money is!”

“With tourism up and running, the local villagers could find employment too. We could even roll out a line of coal-mine-themed souvenirs. With spending stimulated like that, we might not even need the government to woo investors. Investors with sharp instincts will naturally come back to Jiangdong with pockets full of cash…”

“Exactly, exactly! Capitalists only care about profit! If there’s money to be made, they’ll come running faster than anyone!” Director Wang said, deeply moved.

Just look at their own show—back when it was “radioactive,” all the sponsors bailed. But once it blew up, sponsors practically blew up the phone lines trying to get in touch!

Jiangdong may be ignored now, but if the tourism economy takes off, just watch those bigwig investors in tourism come storming back, snapping up land and hiring left and right!

Heck, even Director Wang himself was tempted to quit and start a business, just from being sweet-talked by Wei Sheng like that.

He knew perfectly well how hot escape rooms and mystery games are these days.

His wife’s cousin was a hardcore fan—she didn’t just play them, she opened her own store! At first, the family didn’t think much of it, figured it was just some grown-up version of make-believe.

But two years later, she’d caught the wave during the industry’s boom and quietly bought a home in the provincial capital—paid in full.

Director Wang was too old to have played mystery games himself, but the kids in his extended family loved them. He’d even heard about the “hierarchy of disdain” in that world—like how immersive large-scale venues like what Wei Sheng mentioned were considered way classier than small shops on the street. And don’t think they’re cheap either—prices rival the old-school foot bath parlors of his own generation.

KTV rooms might be expensive, but as long as you don’t order pricey drinks, a room can host a dozen people for not much per head.

But this murder mystery thing? They charge per person. One ticket, one head.

Thinking about it like that, maybe Jiangdong really could forge a new path and create a new kind of cultural tourism, one that breaks away from traditional models?

As if struck by a sudden thought, Wei Sheng across the table started chuckling.

“Director Wang, I just realized—our show could even set up a Liaozhai-themed immersive murder mystery attraction. Something for all ages! Who in the older generation hasn’t seen Liaozhai?”

“We can air it live after 10 p.m. too, make it nice and spooky for max effect, haha!”

As evening fell, perhaps due to the sudden chill in the air—or maybe just the central A/C set too cold in the office—Director Wang shivered involuntarily.

For a moment, it was as if he could already hear the eerie theme song from the old Liaozhai TV series echoing in his ears…

(End of Chapter)

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—The Liaozhai TV series are Chinese dramas based on Pu Songling’s classic collection Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio (聊斋志异). These shows blend supernatural folklore with romance, horror, and moral lessons, featuring ghosts, fox spirits, and strange encounters. Popular versions include the 2005 and 2007 anthology series, which adapt individual stories with different casts. They’re known for mixing eerie tales with emotional depth and have brought classical Chinese fantasy to modern audiences.