Sweet Wife in My Arms

Initially, Su Muran wanted to leave; she couldn’t stand being disgraced like this. Then she remembered they were on camera. Millions would watch this show. If she left now, she would be slapping herself on the face. She had already taken two slaps, and wasn’t hungry for more.

 She couldn’t. Her face swelled from all those slaps. Her name would be forever associated with “murderer”.

 Therefore, even if she had to grit her teeth, she had to get the shooting over and done with.

 However, she thought as she rubbed her own face, how do I face the camera with this swollen face?

 “Alright, get ready for the next scene.”

 The director clapped. Before long, a few crew members came in with a few bags of stuff.

 Before them, was a bunch of food ingredients (potatoes, onions, cauliflowers, some other greens, a fish, and chicken).

 This time, they were going to be tested on their ability to handle food.

 They had to turn these ingredients into edible food. Otherwise, raw potatoes would be the only item on the menu.

 “I can’t cook,” admitted Fang Ying shyly, pointing her fingers together.

 Zhou Zizhe smiled embarrassed. “Me neither.”

 Song Xihua glanced at the ingredients; it was clear that he could hardly tell the greens apart. Eating was his prowess, not cooking. As for the great lady of the Su Family, even washing a bowl was foreign, not to mention cooking.

 Yet if they failed this mission, what could they hope to eat? Feathers?

 The camera, now propped up, began recording. No rehearsal, no retakes. What was captured was what was broadcasted.

 Yan Huan took out a potato and a spoon from the bag.

 Then she began to peel the potato skin.

 Fang Ying squat beside her like an obedient pup, her round eyes blinking nonstop.

 “Get the hang of it?” asked Yan Huan. Fang Ying nodded vehemently.

 “Alright, I’ll leave it to you then.”

 “Leave it to me,” said Fang Ying, taking over the spoon. She beckoned at Zhou Zizhe. “Come here, Zizhe. Peel these with me.”

 Zhou Zizhe walked over, took out a potato, and began peeling them with Fang Ying.

 Yan Huan came out from the kitchen with a cleaver in her hands. She gave Su Muran a dark look and walked towards her slowly, sneering.

 Su Muran backed off, her skin prickling with horror.

 What was she going to do? Kill her? Was she going to kill her?

 Don’t come any closer!

 Su Muran shrieked. However, Yan Huan merely bent down and caught the chicken that happened to be running towards her.

 The cleaver rose and fell on the chicken’s neck.

 “Ahhhhh!” Su Muran’s eyes rolled before she fell unconscious.

 Yan Huan didn’t pay the slightest attention to her.

 “Xihua, boil the water and pluck the feathers.”

 Yan Huan tossed the chicken carcass aside and seized the fish. She raised the cleaver and knocked the fish on the head with the back of the cleaver.

 The fish had already fainted. She quickly began gutting the fish.

 She never expected there to be a cooking phase in the show.

 She might not be good at many things, but cooking was one of them. In her previous life as a daughter-in-law of the Lu Family, she didn’t learn anything other than cooking up a tasty meal. No one appreciated it, but she enjoyed cooking and eventually became quite good at it.

 Killing chickens and fishes was nothing to her.

 No one bothered about the unconscious Su Muran. Not like they were close in the first place.

 Clang, clang, clang…

 The potato slipped from Fang Ying’s hands as she stared agape at Yan Huan’s knifework. Yan Huan didn’t so much as look as she worked the cleaver to produce thin shreds of potatoes.

 Wow, what knifework!

 A part of Yan Huan’s excellent knife work came from a period of watching television. She thought the cooks looked very cool when they swung their metal around, so she learned it. God knows how many potatoes had sacrificed for her to perfect her knifework.

 First, she cut them to pieces, then shreds, then bits.

 There weren’t any shortcuts to excellent knifework. It was all practice.

 Yan Huan hesitated on what to make as she shredded chicken. There were potatoes; she could go with roasted chicken with potatoes, chicken simmered with mushroom, sugar and vinegar ribs (who said that chicken couldn’t be used as a substitute).

 There weren’t many ingredients, so the other three busied them with chores like fetching the plates, chopsticks. In the end, she managed to come out with ten or so dishes.

 “It smells so good,” said Fang Ying, rubbing her tummy. She swallowed her spit. “Can I start eating?”

 Yan Huan placed a bowl of rice before her. “Ladies first, go ahead and dig in.”

 “What about her?” Fang Ying pointed at the unconscious Su Muran on the floor.

 “She would be better off staying on the ground,” said Zhou Zizhe, picking up a large piece of chicken with his chopsticks and putting it in Fang Ying’s bowl. Unconscious, she wouldn’t know that she had made a fool out of herself. The show would be over by the time she wakes up, and the camera won’t be on her anyway. If she regained consciousness now, it would be even more embarrassing for her.

 Song Xihua began eating. Yan Huan sat down and tasted one of the dishes. Not too bad, she thought to herself. In truth, the dishes deserved way more praise.

 The shooting went on for a few more days. The other activities were simple games with little danger. Su Muran was completely alienated by them.

 She thought herself as the end-all, be-all. Mingling with the commoners was beneath her. But Yan Huan was different. Like the others, they were all commoners. A show like this needed actors that were relatable and down-to-earth. Su Muran, with her high heels, cared so much about her appearance, but when the wind mussed her hair, she looked more a witch than a fairy.

 A few days later, the shoot ended, and they each returned to their own businesses.

 This had been a fruitful experience. They had suffered a lot, but they had taken a lot away too. For people like them who had never suffered much in their lives, a show like this could improve their mentality. Before the show, they never knew they had so much potential within them and were capable of doing so much more than they thought they could do.

 Out of all them, Fang Ying felt that she was the luckiest since she found someone she liked.

 Zhou Zizhe had a thing for Fang Ying too. Yan Huan would never believe that there was nothing between them after noticing the clandestine looks they shared.

 “I hope we’ll have a chance to work again in the future,” Yan Huan reached out and shook Fang Ying and Zhou Zizhe’s hand.

 Then it was Song Xihua.