Chapter 79

After learning where the next episode would be filmed, Wei Sheng couldn’t help but @ the other three group members in their private chat as soon as he left Wang Qun’s office—

“Good news! We’re filming next week, and we get to experience a large-scale outdoor immersive role-playing game for free!”

What the heck?

Ouyang Xia, the oldest among them, happened to be the head of the New Media Department. Though he wasn’t exactly the target audience for role-playing games, he at least knew what they were.

Zhang Zexuan and Chen Mengjie immediately got hyped and started spamming Wei Sheng in the group, demanding that he spill the beans and reveal the next filming location.

Wait a second—Wei Sheng vaguely remembered someone mentioning that Chen Mengjie’s dad used to make his fortune as a coal boss. Maybe her family had even invested in coal mines in Jiangdong Town?

When Wei Sheng typed out “Jiangdong Town” in the group chat, Chen Mengjie nearly spit out her milk tea.

Are you kidding me? That’s the exact place she lived when she was a kid!

Back then, Jiangdong Town’s coal resources hadn’t run dry yet, and it coincided with the boom of China’s economy, which meant coal was in high demand.

Put it this way: anyone who managed to scrape together the money and get a permit to mine coal in Jiangdong Town back then—every single one of them made a fortune. Especially people like Chen’s dad, who had deep pockets—he raked in massive profits.

Chen Mengjie could still remember those days vividly. Her family—mom, dad, older brother, and herself—lived right on the coal mine. All day long, the air buzzed with the roar of machines and the constant comings and goings of coal trucks.

Even the workers at the mines were making good money. The bigger mining operations didn’t just have dorms for miners—they had mini markets, shops, even daycare centers… Chen Mengjie’s childhood was spent right in the heyday of Jiangdong’s booming coal industry.

Later on, as the underground mines were gradually exhausted, extraction costs rose and profits plummeted. Her dad heard from friends that real estate was the next big thing, so he sold off the mines on the cheap and moved the whole family to the provincial capital, transforming from a coal boss to a property developer.

That night at home, Chen Mengjie told her dad about the show filming in Jiangdong. President Chen couldn’t help but sigh with emotion.

“Tell your Director Wang that if this episode doesn’t have enough sponsors, count us in. If it weren’t for Jiangdong Town, the Chen family wouldn’t be where it is today. Seriously!”

President Chen wasn’t originally from Jiangdong, so he wasn’t in the Jiangdong Town Fellow Natives’ Association. Otherwise, he would’ve already pitched in when the chamber organized sponsor support for the show.

And just like that, even before the second unit of Season 2 began filming, the production team had already secured tens of millions in sponsorships—covering everything from funding to materials!

Some of the more influential members of the Jiangdong Town chamber even made it clear: if the show was genuinely helping the people of Jiangdong climb out of poverty and prosper, the crew could go all-in without hesitation. And if anyone dared to make trouble or extort the production team, they could just call those bigshots directly!

Wang Qun didn’t need it spelled out for him. After hearing all this, he felt much more at ease about the trip to Jiangdong.

What’s there to fear from a bunch of petty thugs? Back in the day, when these local bigwigs were still fighting over mining rights and brawling in the coalfields, those so-called gangsters were probably still in diapers.

Wei Sheng and the others had expected life in Jiangdong to be a bit rough, but they hadn’t expected it to be this rough.

They couldn’t find a single intact house in all of Jiangdong Town! The place arranged for the crew was probably the best they could offer, but staring at those spiderweb-like cracks running across the walls gave everyone the creeps.

They had heard that mining had nearly hollowed out the entire underground of Jiangdong, and that the local government had already organized multiple rounds of mass relocation. In one notorious case, a family of five was sleeping in their own home when the entire house suddenly collapsed into the ground—no survivors.

Town officials rushed to explain that this particular building wasn’t over a mined-out area—it had only been affected by nearby subsidence, which had pulled the structure slightly and caused the cracks. But it had been reinforced and wouldn’t collapse.

The crew was still suspicious—until they saw the houses where the locals lived. Some of the cracks were wide enough for an adult to fit their entire arm into. After that, they didn’t say a word.

As if unstable housing weren’t enough, the water there wasn’t safe to drink either.

Because of years of over-mining, the ground had caved in in multiple places, forming massive underground voids. Sometimes, a family would spend good money to dig a well, only to find it completely dry the next morning. The underground couldn’t retain water anymore—many households had to rely on rainwater.

As for the water collecting in open-pit mines? Sure, it looked clear. Go ahead and drink it for a while—see how that goes. With all those toxic minerals, it might as well be a magic elixir… for sending you to heaven.

Fortunately, the local government had managed to scrape together a donation from business leaders in Jiangdong via multiple trips to J City. That funding was used to install running water in several villages under Jiangdong Town’s jurisdiction.

Not individual connections to each home—there wasn’t enough money for that. Instead, each village had a few shared water taps installed based on population. Families would buy a big water vat, fill it up, and that would be enough water for the whole day.

Water costs were split equally per person in each village group, so even in just half a day, Wei Sheng and the others had already witnessed multiple heated arguments over water usage. If any household was seen wasting water, the whole village would gang up on them.

After settling in town, the crew followed the local officials to the so-called “Miners’ Village.”

“Miners’ Village” wasn’t a specific village in Jiangdong—it referred to the communities that had formed organically around coal mines over the years. Some were employee dorms built by mining companies; others were houses built by miners after settling down.

The place they were heading to was the dormitory of a local coal enterprise, right next to an abandoned mine. Seven three-story brick buildings—typical red-brick rural housing from the 90s, with a layer of cement on the outside.

From afar, the weathered cement walls were riddled with cracks of all sizes. Deep green ivy climbed up the walls and over the outer fences.

It was obvious no one had lived there in a long time. Even from a distance, a chill seemed to radiate from the place.

Chen Mengjie couldn’t help humming a horror movie theme in her head.

Worried the crew might refuse to go in, the town officials quickly explained that these buildings were carefully chosen. While they might look a little scary on the outside, the ground beneath hadn’t collapsed. The nearby mine pit had caved in with such force that it cracked the walls, but the foundations were still solid.

If these buildings were actually in danger of collapse, they wouldn’t dare let the show film there.

They genuinely wanted the show to help Jiangdong escape poverty and revitalize the local economy—not lure the crew in for a live burial. Cough.

Director Wang Qun, ever cautious, asked the local government for the buildings’ safety inspection reports. Not trusting his own judgment, he took photos and sent them to colleagues in the headquarters who specialized in construction. Only after confirming these were not at-risk buildings did he lead the crew inside.

“Mreeow~” A fierce-looking feral cat stood coldly on the second-floor railing, staring down at them. Its entire body was pitch-black, and only its glowing green eyes gleamed eerily in the dim light.

If it hadn’t been for the group’s numbers, the more timid members of the crew would’ve screamed on the spot.

This place was way too creepy. Were they here to help with poverty relief, or to hunt ghosts?

Help! Mom, I’m scared o(╥﹏╥)o

“Eh? There’s a cat? That’s great! Cute pets are a magnet for variety show fans!” Amid the crowd, only Wei Sheng let out an excited exclamation, looking like he couldn’t wait to whip out a cat treat and lure the black cat down.

Wang Qun wiped the cold sweat off his brow, feeling extremely resistant to this so-called “cute pet.” In other rural slow-living variety shows, the pets were usually puppies or chicks and ducklings. Even if it was a cat, it would at least be a chubby orange tabby or a tabby-striped domestic cat. Have you ever seen a show crew keep such a black cat brimming with ominous vibes?

Maybe it was pure misfortune, but it almost seemed like Wei Sheng had unlocked a “jinx” skill, because right after, they encountered more so-called “cute pets”—

A glimpse of a yellow weasel spirit, a family of hedgehogs that locals called “white spirits,” a snake slithering leisurely down the road…

“Xiao Wei, I believe you now,” Wang Qun muttered as he watched the white spirit saunter past them with complete disregard. “This place is actually perfect for hosting a large-scale immersive Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio-themed murder mystery…”

And not just murder mystery.

He was now even thinking—if they just added a few NPCs pretending to be monsters and mountain spirits, they could totally run a thrilling wild-survival-style escape room right here!

Say what you will, just the “extras” here—fox spirits, yellow weasels and all—didn’t even need eerie background music to create an atmosphere. The vibes were terrifying enough on their own.

Just as the tension peaked—suddenly! A sharp, creaking yi-ya sound rang out by their ears. It was like someone pulling open an old, warped door from inside the house…

“Holy sh*t!!”

“Aaaahhhhhh~!”

The whole group instinctively huddled together, trembling.

The town officials were startled too, but since they had visited this area before, two of the braver men mustered their courage and went over to check. They came back relieved and shouted:

“It’s fine! Looks like the main gate was pushed open by something. The wind blew through the corridor and made the door creak.”

Everyone collectively let out a breath of relief and looked up at the sun in the sky. Yeah! It’s broad daylight—no ghosts or monsters out and about, hahahaha~ Nothing to worry about!

But before their laughter faded, a few villagers appeared, carrying baskets filled with coal chunks they’d dug up privately from the mine.

Town officials: “……”

“You lot! How many times has the town warned you—no going into the mines to scavenge coal! You know those tunnels could collapse at any moment. Are you trying to get yourselves killed?” one official snapped furiously.

The caught villagers weren’t fazed at all. They just laughed sheepishly, promised to be more careful next time, and dashed off with their baskets of coal.

The production team: “……”

Risking their lives just to bring up a few baskets of coal… it was clear the local people were really having a hard time.

But thinking about it, it all made sense. Along the way, they had hardly seen any trees. The towering coal mounds were surrounded by heaps of mining slag. Forget trees—some spots didn’t even have grass growing!

No firewood, no natural gas in the countryside—if the locals didn’t scavenge coal from abandoned pits to cook and keep warm, what else could they do?

After passing through a narrow alley, they finally reached the temporary housing the local government had prepared for them.

The exterior of the house was still rundown, but the climbing vines had been pulled down, the courtyard swept clean, a new door installed, and even the old wooden window frames had been replaced with aluminum-glass ones.

“The first and second floors are all livable—ten rooms total. The third floor hasn’t been used in ages, leaks badly, and the walls are moldy, so no one can stay there. Take a look and see if it’s enough. If not, we’ll borrow a few rooms from nearby villagers.”

At this point, Director Wang Qun couldn’t help but feel secretly relieved. Thankfully, they had repositioned the show and didn’t invite any major celebrities. Otherwise, just seeing these accommodations would’ve made the guests walk off set on the spot.

But since everyone was from their own company, no one would quit their job just because they had to live in an old house for a few days to film.

While the crew split up to assign rooms and install equipment, Wang Qun, the four guests, and the planning team stayed in the courtyard with the town officials to discuss the next steps.

The officials first laid out the challenges they were facing.

Jiangdong Town wasn’t like other impoverished rural areas. It basically had no agricultural resources. For over a hundred years, there had been thousands of coal mines, big and small, scattered all over. The result of all that mining was that the surface soil had been severely damaged. The land in Jiangdong was no longer suitable for growing crops or vegetables.

Here’s a joke: even though Jiangdong is technically rural, the vegetables locals eat all come from outside.

Some households plant green onions or garlic in broken basins by the door, but with the severe air pollution, a single acid rain and even those get wiped out.

So planting or raising livestock—the typical poverty alleviation methods—were basically out of the question here.

Worse still, most of Jiangdong’s underground area had been hollowed out by those countless coal mines. Land collapses happened so frequently they were practically routine. Especially in recent years, as the coal resources dried up and the mines shut down or were abandoned, the tunnels below went unmaintained and would suddenly collapse in huge chunks.

Put simply, in Jiangdong, if you’re not local, even just walking around requires extra caution.

There had even been a tragedy some years ago. A villager married a woman from out of town. On the wedding day, many of her relatives came to celebrate. A few young people, unfamiliar with mining areas, found the old mine pits novel and went to take photos nearby.

Bad luck struck. One of them stepped on a weak spot, fell straight into a deep underground shaft. By the time villagers risked their lives to haul him back up, his body was barely recognizable.

“Our coal mountains and mining pits in Jiangdong really are unique. A lot of drone enthusiasts come here to shoot videos. We’ve thought about bringing in a tourism development company to turn these mine landscapes into tourist attractions,” one of the officials said.

“But as you can see, there are more coal mines here than there are residents, not to mention the underground tunnels. Some of them date back over a hundred years.”

“The county even brought in experts to evaluate the area. They told us the biggest challenge in developing tourism here is the dense web of underground tunnels. Whether reinforcing or filling them in, the cost would be astronomical.”

The more the town official spoke, the bleaker the future seemed. He looked completely disheartened.

“There’s no way the town can afford that kind of money, so we’re stuck in a vicious cycle.”

“We can’t afford to fix the land collapse risks, so investors don’t dare come in. They’re afraid of accidents—imagine sinking money into tourist infrastructure only to have the ground collapse. Damaged equipment is one thing, but if there are injuries or deaths, no scenic spot can bear that responsibility.”

“Tourism won’t take off. The coal’s all gone. There’s no farming or forestry. Tax revenue keeps dropping. The town just gets poorer.”

“I’m not afraid to say it—we used to be filthy rich, but now, the town government can barely pay salaries and bonuses.”

The topic was so heavy, it left even the production team in silence.

They had never encountered a situation like Jiangdong Town before.

Before arriving, Wang Qun had listened to Wei Sheng’s optimistic ideas and felt hopeful that there might still be a sliver of promise for poverty alleviation in Jiangdong.

But now, after hearing the township officials lay it all out, Wang Qun’s heart instantly sank to rock bottom.

Even though he wasn’t a specialist, he understood full well that rehabilitating the dense maze of mine tunnels developed over more than a century beneath such a large area was beyond the capabilities of a mere township. Heck, even the province probably couldn’t afford it!

“We don’t have to fix everything all at once, right? Can’t we do it step by step?” Wei Sheng frowned. “Like they say, you can’t get fat on one bite. This is a massive coal mine site—realistically, even with ample funding, a full transformation would take at least ten years. So what, the townsfolk are supposed to sew their mouths shut and wait around without eating or drinking for ten years?”

“You mean…” Wang Qun seemed to catch on to his idea.

“I think we can totally take another approach. Just like this house the town arranged for us—I don’t believe every single spot in Jiangdong is riddled with tunnels. There must be areas with solid ground, less prone to collapse.”

“So my suggestion is this: work with the town to bring in a new geological survey team, identify one safe tunnel route, and map out a secure zone without subsidence. Then use a targeted development model.”

“There are three advantages to doing this: First, with minimal investment, we can create a prototype of a new tourism industry zone. Once that’s done, it’s much easier to replicate a second and third.”

“Second, limited development ensures maximum safety while also giving visitors a thrill—a sense of dancing along the edge of danger.”

“Third, early development means some locals can start earning early. Once they set an example, other investors will be less hesitant. I mean, if folks see neighboring villages making a fortune off tourism, I highly doubt they’ll just sit on their hands… Heh!”

The production team was used to Wei Sheng’s random but brilliant ideas, but for the Jiangdong officials, this was their first encounter with him. Seeing how confidently he spoke and the thoroughness of his reasoning, they all thought he must be some kind of consultant hired by the crew.

It was only later, during room assignments, that they realized—this guy was a guest on the show!

This… this young man, with a brain like that, why on earth would you be in the entertainment industry? Rural revitalization needs talents like you on the front lines!

Wei Sheng could only howl inwardly at their shocked reactions.

You think he didn’t want to join the system? Of course he did—it’s just that he couldn’t pass the exam!

Sometimes, luck and opportunity matter more than hard work.

Their generation had received top-notch education, but even so, fresh graduates struggling to find jobs had become the norm.

Look at his dad’s generation—Wei Zhiyong came from a rural background too, but as soon as he got into college, everything changed. Not only was job placement guaranteed after graduation, but he even got into a major state-owned enterprise without needing to take any exams.

Poor Wei Sheng—burning with passion to serve his country, but unable to outscore those with more brains or better luck. o(╥﹏╥)o

With the local development plan in place, the next step was up to the production team.

How could they turn this battered, collapsing wasteland into a trendy, thrilling outdoor live-action role-playing (LARP) base for young people?

Wang Qun, practicing nepotism with a clear conscience, recommended his wife’s younger cousin to the TV station—an enterprising woman who had already opened three LARP venues in the provincial capital.

Wei Sheng, ever curious, asked more and realized—he’d actually been to one of her places before! He wailed in dismay.

“If I’d known, I would’ve asked for a VIP card or something. Her prices are insane!”

“No kidding. You think she could afford a full-price condo in the capital otherwise?” Wang Qun waved him off and sent the group to get ready for the evening livestream.

Yes, evil Director Wang, in his lust for online traffic, had gone full tyrant—overruling all objections to insist that the Jiangdong livestreams be scheduled for after 10 PM.

How could he not share such a terrifying atmosphere with his beloved audience and fans?

Wei Sheng just wanted to time travel and slap himself across the face—this is what you get for running your mouth!

Who told him to suggest a “Liaozhai-style immersive roleplay experience”?

Now look what happened—the director was roasting sweet potatoes safely indoors, while the guests had to brave the shrill cries of stray cats and the eerie gusts of haunted wind blowing through abandoned mine tunnels to host their very first livestream in Jiangdong…

(End of Chapter)