If these guys were to do all the harvesting manually from dawn to dusk, just this one task would leave them unable to do anything else for five days.
The director urged quickly, “Everyone, you can actually borrow farming machines; there are foot-operated threshers, electric ones, and even all-in-one harvesting machines that save you the trouble of bundling. However, different grades of farm machinery have different rental prices.” The four members of the Guanshan Band exclaimed, thinking this was the variety show rhythm they were familiar with…
So, the five of them first went to find where to borrow farming machines. In the end, guided by the villagers, they arrived at the home of the old man who would be their fire source. Upon seeing him, they let out a wail; this old man spoke with an accent that made communication quite difficult. “Grandpa, we just want to borrow it for three days! We’ll pay you back after we sell it!” Zhang Yue shouted, pronouncing each word clearly, afraid the old man wouldn’t understand. The old man seemed disinterested, clearly having been informed beforehand, and replied, “My TV is broken.” Everyone exchanged puzzled looks. Qi Shejiang translated, “The TV is broken, right?” Zhang Yue immediately responded, “Who can fix a TV?” Zhou Dong smiled cheekily, “Grandpa, we often appear on TV; we can just sing for you, and when the other guests arrive, we’ll have them act for you.” As he said this, he winked at Zhang Yue, reminding him that the lead singer should take the stage, “You sing a bit louder.” The old man pondered for a moment and decided this could work, “Play the suona then.” Zhang Yue scoffed at his teammates, “Go ahead, play louder.” The three of them: “……” They were responsible for instruments, but who knows folk music? Xiao Xiao suddenly thought of something, “Hey, Jesse, don’t you play the sanxian? The suona is also a traditional instrument; this is actually your part, right?
What kind of logic is that? Qi Shejiang can play the sanxian, but that’s not related to the suona; he does know a little about the jinghu, though. However, Qi Shejiang wasn’t anxious at all; he squatted down and conversed with the old man in dialect: “I can’t play the suona, but can I sing ‘Shen Qing Yang’ for you?” The old man’s cloudy eyes brightened, “You can sing that? No one has sung it for many years!” The others, including the cameraman, were astonished, not expecting Qi Shejiang, with his mixed-race face, could speak dialect. They thought he’d just understood it well, but he actually could? “Shen Qing Yang” turned out to be a local folk song with a history of over a hundred years, originating from a certain county in this province, and later spreading to the capital, using a Tianjin tune. However, it wasn’t particularly famous, and of course, few people sang it now. The old man had listened to a troupe sing this in the countryside long ago; later, there were no such activities, and he wouldn’t search the internet, so he hadn’t heard it again. Now that Qi Shejiang said he would sing, he felt a mix of surprise and confusion—can he really sing?
Singing as he wished, Qi Shejiang casually picked up something to tap on the table as a beat and started singing, “A matter has arisen in Fuzhou City, the county magistrate sits in court to interrogate the Qing sheep. Why do they interrogate the Qing sheep? The Liu family girl and the Li family boy, the two families’ marriage did not come to fruition, Yang’s life is offered to the King of Hell. To the east, there are four houses, with a carpenter named Li Xiang, who has a son of seventeen, with celestial rewards to fill the courtyard…”
The old man was entranced, tilting his head to appreciate it, and when Qi Shejiang finished, he clapped vigorously a few times, standing up and saying, “This is the taste! Young man, you sing well, really well!”
His emotions ran high, and he casually took out the keys, “Here, this is for the harvester!”
Grandpa, that won’t do; we can only borrow the foot-operated ones. The harvester isn’t something you can just lend out; the price is also higher.” The old man insisted, “I’ll borrow it myself! My son has one! No money needed!” The director: “……” Seeing this, the others nudged the director aside, “Hey, this is the old man wanting to borrow from us; you didn’t set any rules! He was conquered by our skills!” After a bit of argument, the director was speechless and could only let them take the keys. Once outside the old man’s house, Zhou Dong voiced the question in everyone’s heart: “How do you know the dialect here? This can’t actually be your hometown, right?” Qi Shejiang smiled and even started imitating Zhou Dong’s dialect; Zhou Dong’s accent wasn’t thick, but it was clear where he was from, and he spoke the authentic dialect of Zhou Dong’s hometown, “I’m from the capital.” Zhou Dong’s eyes widened, “You can speak this too? Sounds quite authentic!” Qi Shejiang calmly replied, “We xiangsheng artists learn four skills—speaking, learning, joking, and singing, and learning includes various regional dialects. This is called ‘daokou,’ using different accents to better shape characters. Not just here, but we also have to learn dialects from Tianjin, Hebei, Shanxi, and other places.” Everyone: “Say that again, what are you?” Qi Shejiang didn’t think he said anything wrong, looking at him in confusion, “We are xiangsheng artists.”
Chapter Twelve With the farming machines, the autumn harvest became much easier; learning to operate the machines was definitely easier than harvesting by hand.
The old man’s harvester is really quite useful, capable of harvesting, threshing, and bundling all in one operation, working at a speed that finished the fields the production crew had originally planned to take at least three days to clear, all in half a day! For such a blatant violation by the old man, the production team was at a loss, but luckily there was a backup plan, and they made last-minute adjustments to increase activity; otherwise, they wouldn’t have enough material. By evening, after a busy day, everyone was tired. Without a water heater, Qi Shejiang relied on his own skills to boil some hot water, and after everyone had showered, they went to sleep. According to the arrangement made during the day, Zhang Yue and Qi Shejiang shared a bed, and just before sleeping, they overheard Xiao Xiaowei and the others joking about “different dreams on the same bed.” At this hour, Zhang Yue wasn’t feeling very sleepy due to his biological clock; he leaned against the head of the bed playing with his phone, browsing Weibo. He felt quite awkward, not only because of the identity of the person sleeping next to him but also because he was not used to sharing a bed with anyone.
Qi Shejiang lay beside him, eyes closed. “Are you online?” Qi Shejiang spoke without opening his eyes. Zhang Yue was startled. Although he had had conflicts with Qi Shejiang, it was Qi Shejiang who had borrowed the agricultural machine, and he had also started the fire, so there was no reason to turn hostile. “…Yes.” Qi Shejiang asked, “May I ask you a question?” Zhang Yue, guarded after their previous encounters, cautiously replied, “What?” Qi Shejiang enunciated clearly, “What does 23333 mean?” Zhang Yue: “…………” What the hell is 23333! Zhang Yue almost blurted out, “Are you messing with me again?” But he thought about it; there were cameras in the room, so Qi Shejiang probably wouldn’t be that reckless. This guy had western blood and lived abroad; could it be that he wasn’t well-versed in domestic internet culture? Zhang Yue was skeptical as he explained it to Qi Shejiang. Qi Shejiang suddenly understood; so that’s what it means, to laugh! He had seen it while learning about mobile phones and found it perplexing — something the phone’s manual didn’t explain.
Here is the edited article with irrelevant content removed:
