Zhang Caidie was furious, cursing Ou Chi over and over in her mind.
Technically, a man’s sense of direction should be better, but Ou Chi followed behind complaining for ages without remembering the way.
What’s the use of a person like that?
Zhang Caidie’s chest heaved, but she remembered they were filming a show, so she suppressed her anger and said, "Arguing now won’t help. Why not ask the cameraman?"
Hearing this, Ou Chi immediately glanced at the camera, gritting his teeth.
Returning to his previously harmonious and friendly demeanor.
The production team felt a pang of disappointment.
They had hoped to see the ex-lovers pull each other’s hair and maybe spill some secrets, but it seemed that hope was in vain.
"Give them some directions, or else they might really start fighting."
The cameraman received the message and, after contacting a colleague who was filming on location, pointed out the direction to the two of them.
Finally, the SUV reappeared in sight, beside the lopsided tents.
Ou Chi and Zhang Caidie felt utterly exhausted, wishing they could get in the car and lay down for a good nap.
Unfortunately, that was against the show’s rules.
"Let’s set up the tent first." Ou Chi walked over weakly, asking Zhang Caidie to come help.
Zhang Caidie secretly resented in her heart.
That Ou Chi, despite being a man, had to do everything himself.
Not a shred of masculinity.
Yet Ou Chi was silently grumbling too.
Zhang Yuan often boasted in the media about her good family background, but with their relationship as it was, many things were quite obvious.
Zhang Caidie sometimes spoke with a dialect, and her other living habits clearly were not those of a proper lady.
But now she’s really acting spoiled like a princess? Not even offering to help unless asked.
The two silently picked up the tent, unwilling to say even a word to each other.
Which made the production team behind the camera feel uncomfortable.
"These two are truly..." Tang Zhubiao shook his head, deciding to refresh himself with Yue Qingqing and Gong Qiming’s group.
Over there, they actually caught a wild chicken that had flown in from who knows where using a trap.
Gong Qiming, thinking outside the box, said, "I remember there’s a dish called Beggar’s Chicken from a martial arts drama I acted in; supposedly, you wrap the chicken in mud and bake it in a fire."
Although Yue Qingqing loved eating, she wasn’t skilled at cooking, so she hesitantly asked, "Is it tasty?"
"I don’t know; the script said it was delicious, but during filming, they used props."
Yue Qingqing thought for a moment, "Let’s give it a try."
One daring to suggest, the other daring to act.
The production team watched them handling the mess of feathers, laughing until they nearly fell over.
Too many jokes, right?
Gong Qiming took charge of preparing the chicken, cleaning all the feathers off the wild chicken and removing its insides, stuffing it with two wild fruits found on a tree, and sprinkling salt and pepper from a spice jar on the surface.
Yue Qingqing collected some broader leaves, washed them, wrapped the chicken, and sealed it with mud from the riverside.
The two tossed the mudball into the fire.
"How long should it roast?"
"At least twenty minutes, right?" Gong Qiming wasn’t sure, so he kept turning it to check the heat.
After twenty minutes, Gong Qiming used a particularly thick stick to roll the mudball out of the fire.
They cracked open the outer layer of mud, staring in disbelief.
The chicken inside was pretty much the same as when it went in.
"Guess it’s not cooked..." Yue Qingqing sniffed it and poked it with her finger.
They reluctantly repeated the previous steps, wrapping it in leaves, sealing it with mud, and placing it back in the fire.
The mudball was rolled out again, and only then did Yue Qingqing notice the bottom had long cracked from burning, leaving the chicken a burned mess.
Pretty much inedible.
The two exchanged looks, while Tang Zhubiao and others laughed gleefully, clutching their stomachs.
Finally caught you in a blunder!