Chapter 948: Midnight Diner

“Everyone’s either not sleeping or waking up early.”

Luo Quan came downstairs and found all the staff already at their posts; she checked the time—it was just past six fifteen.

The staff’s dormitory was far from where the guests stayed; to get here after tidying up, they had to wake up by five at the latest.

“I remember we finished recording last night past eleven—so you’re telling me you only slept less than five hours?” Luo Quan walked to the water dispenser to fill some water, chatting with the staff.

“No, we’re on two shifts,” the staff replied warmly.

“That’s better—if we had to sleep only five hours every day, it’d be unbearable.”

“You’re up early too,” the assistant director said with a smile.

“I’m making breakfast for everyone,” Luo Quan tied up her hair, grabbed a basket and some money, and stepped out the door.

For this breakfast, she planned to make meat buns; since it was last-minute, she intended to head to the early market to buy two pieces of pork.

This arrangement had been unanimously approved by everyone, since the money came from the vegetables grown by Teachers He and Wang, traded to the production team.

Actually, this practice didn’t exist in previous seasons—it was added only after this season began airing.

The first three seasons of “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ” earned their best reputation because the celebrities farmed and ate their own produce, savoring the joy of harvest after hard labor, giving viewers a very relaxed, natural feeling.

But by the fourth season, the guests had gotten carried away.

Choosing a seaside resort for filming was one thing, but the food was all brought in, each dish more upscale than the last—think steaks worth thousands, generous seafood portions, luxury yachts taking everyone out to sea.

This wasn’t “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ”—it was “A Xiangwangdedujia .”

After the fourth season aired, the entire production team was heavily criticized; netizens even joked they should just film the next season in Europe, since it was all paid vacation anyway, and better scenery would be more pleasant to watch.

Of course, if the production team actually took those comments seriously, “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ” would truly collapse in reputation.

After deep reflection, the production team decided to return to its roots and learn from similar variety shows in Korea.

That meant restricting guests’ personal food and money, so their income during their stay at the Mushroom House would be limited.

Only then could they return to the era where they earned their keep through farming and labor.

Indeed, after changing the show’s format, “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ” Season Five immediately reversed its previous season’s decline, reaching a level slightly below the first three seasons.

Actually, the show should always have been filmed this way.

The appeal of this type of variety show lies in hardship and authenticity; fans come to see how celebrities live under financial constraints.

You, however, threw so many resources at them that everyone lost all sense of immersion—who else would netizens roast if not you?

In short, after this season’s reputation rebounded, everyone’s pressure eased.

Of course, Teachers He Qiong and Wang Lei faced slightly more pressure, since they had to work hard at farming to improve their lives and also had to urge other guests to labor—workload had indeed increased significantly.

Fortunately, both are now idle men.

Teacher Wang Lei hasn’t acted in a long time; after his failed remake of the Japanese TV drama “Midnight Diner,” he seemed to give up acting entirely and turned into a variety show regular.

To be fair, the variety shows he appeared on received decent reviews, and he always played the elder-brother figure among guests, often stepping in to guide direction when opinions diverged.

In “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ,” he also used his teaching skills to impart life lessons to younger artists.

But what impressed people most was his cooking and his passion for food.

So passionate, in fact, that he even starred in “Midnight Diner,” an epic-level flop.

Of course, the fact that this drama became one of the lowest-rated domestic series on Douban wasn’t entirely his fault—it was mainly due to the writer’s reckless changes, poor supporting performances, and excessive product placements.

As for how good Teacher Wang’s cooking really is, opinions vary—but it’s certainly better than an average person’s.

But after Luo Quan arrived yesterday, the Mushroom House’s meals were basically handed over to her.

“The Chinese Cooking God has arrived—I won’t embarrass myself,” Teacher Wang chuckled, then happily stepped aside to assist Luo Quan.

Still, Teacher Wang was quite eager to learn; while watching Luo Quan cook, he frequently asked about ingredient prep, marinating, and heat control, and Luo Quan always answered patiently— their interaction was quite pleasant.

As for Teacher He Qiong, last year was extremely rough for him.

First, celebrity fans leaked that he hinted for gifts; soon after, many more came forward with concrete evidence he’d been accepting gifts for years.

As a public official host, such behavior was highly inappropriate, and he instantly became the target of online outrage.

For over a decade, Teacher He had been known for mentoring juniors, maintaining a spotless record, and never making enemies.

At his peak, half the entertainment circle would send birthday wishes.

But after the scandal, only a handful sent birthday wishes.

Within a single year, he had deeply tasted the bitterness of human indifference.

At the start of this year, China’s top variety show “Kuai Ben” announced its end; many hosts left this once-dominant platform and still haven’t found good jobs.

Teacher He was an exception; though accepting gifts was wrong, his decades of professional skill remained flawless—there were still plenty of shows wanting him.

In “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ,” he and Teacher Wang Lei worked as a team, welcoming every guest who arrived.

Since neither pursued their former primary careers, variety shows had become their main focus, so they approached the work with greater dedication; their performances this season clearly surpassed those in earlier seasons.

Each episode’s routine was simple: during the day, the two teachers led guests to labor; afterward, Teacher He cooked; after dinner, Teacher He talked with everyone, deepening the theme.

Last night’s talk didn’t last long because everyone was exhausted from travel and went to bed early.

This was the current situation: Luo Quan, the first guest to wake up, bought two pieces of pork at a not-particularly-busy market.

Due to limited funds, Luo Quan didn’t spend lavishly as she usually did.

But she could also live frugally—financial freedom was only recent.

To get the best meat for the least money, she walked through the market twice, asked prices at four butchers, and finally spent fifty yuan on two good pieces.

“Hey, you’re awake?”

When Luo Quan returned to the Mushroom House, she found Teachers He and Wang already up and having already let the dough rise.

“You’re up even earlier than us—the meat’s not even back yet,” Wang Lei said, more surprised seeing Luo Quan return with the pork.

According to “A Xiangwangdeshenghuo ”’s format, guests were not supposed to interact with crew members—as if they didn’t exist, just live their lives.

Earlier, Luo Quan had spoken because she woke so early and no one else was around.

After she left, the two teachers came downstairs and found no one to interact with—they had no idea someone had woken up even earlier.

Teacher Wang Lei took the meat and smiled: “These days, young people don’t even get up until eight or nine—waking at six is rare.”

“I don’t usually wake this early, but I promised to make breakfast for you.”

Luo Quan glanced at the dough—it seemed like a lot.

But it didn’t matter; if there were leftover buns, she could make fried dough sticks.

“How are you planning to use these two pieces of pork for breakfast?” He Qiong held the meat in his hand, asking Luo Quan.

“One will be minced for buns; the other will be reserved for braised pork tonight.”

She took one piece from He Qiong’s hand and prepared to boil it first to remove the odor.

She planned two flavors for the filling: fresh meat and soy-braised meat.

The most tedious part of the whole process was mincing the meat.

Luo Quan held two cleavers, rapidly striking the cutting board with a crisp, hoof-like clatter; soon, the meat turned into fine mince.

Wang Lei watched for a while, then walked away, exclaiming he could never learn such skill.

Many cooking techniques are simply a matter of practice.

At first, they may seem extremely difficult, but with consistent practice, they become second nature.

But Wang Lei never had formal culinary training, so he found these skills daunting.

The same applied to wrapping the buns.

While the two teachers wrapped one, Luo Quan could wrap five or six.

Though slower, they were still helping.

When the fried dough sticks were done and the buns steamed, the other guests gradually came downstairs.

A few clearly had just woken up, still half-asleep.

The four young people: Zhang Zifeng, Guo Qilin, Peng Yu, Cheng Feiyu, and the long-absent Qin Yi.

Since his drama “Gentlemen of the West Eight District” flopped, Qin Yi seemed more depressed than before.

Probably broken by endless online abuse, he’d become unkempt.

But being unkempt didn’t mean lacking confidence; despite few female guests this season, he still spoke like a domineering CEO.

But Teacher Wang had already demonstrated this act—“I don’t care what I think, I care what you think”—and was mocked mercilessly online.

If Qin Yi kept this up, he’d likely be trending again.

But he seemed to have given up entirely, continuing to act however he pleased.

In contrast, Cheng Feiyu appeared very reserved.

Like Guan Ling, he was a returnee raised overseas.

But his parents were both Chinese, and his father was a top-tier domestic director.

Influenced by them, Cheng Feiyu renounced his American citizenship after turning eighteen, acquired Chinese nationality, and officially entered the Chinese-language entertainment industry.

His first work was two years ago, in the National Day tribute film, starring in his father’s segment “Daylight Meteor,” which received widespread criticism.

Yet as a resource-backed actor, Cheng Feiyu didn’t face much online hate; instead, netizens pitied him.

His infamous line, “Arthur, please sit,” made the entire internet laugh hysterically, revealing how pretentious his director father was in real life.

They weren’t even wealthy—yet acted like European blue-blood nobility, turning a simple home-cooked meal into an elaborate ritual.

The craziest part? He actually lectured about the philosophy and aesthetics hidden in a bowl of diced pork—no one knew how to respond.

The final touch, “Arthur, please sit,” became one of last year’s top entertainment catchphrases.

That’s why netizens pitied Cheng Feiyu.

Living with a father like that must be incredibly hard.

When Luo Quan arrived yesterday, she’d originally planned to joke around at dinner and say, “Arthur, please sit.”

But after considering her father’s petty nature, she abandoned the idea.

After all, this famous director doesn’t even allow netizens to criticize his own bad films.

After “A Steamed Bun That Sparked a Blood Case” went viral, he immediately sued them in court.

And even now, anyone who still brings up that incident will instantly be confronted.

Given this, Luo Quan thought it better not to make that joke.

Guo Qilin and Peng Yu, with their lively personalities, were extremely active, getting along well with every guest and serving as the show’s comic duo.

If the atmosphere grew dull, the two would step in with witty banter and instantly liven things up.

Zhang Zifeng was also a carefree girl; as one of only two women, she spoke the most with Luo Quan, though their topics rarely clicked.

After a few exchanges, Luo Quan discovered this carefree girl was actually a literary young woman, fond of photography and writing short, fresh phrases rich in life philosophy.

And what Luo Quan hated most was literary youths.

Of course, not literary youths like Zhang Zifeng—and she certainly couldn’t say that out loud.

In short, this mixed-age guest lineup got along remarkably well.

Aside from Qin Yi occasionally saying off-putting things, everything was nearly perfect.

“Everyone, hurry up and wash up, then come eat baozi and youtiao.”

As Luo Quan spoke, she was stirring soy milk in a large glass cup.

It was made with soy milk powder—just add a bit of sugar, and the flavor becomes excellent; drinking one cup for breakfast warms the whole stomach.

But don’t drink it too fast, or your esophagus will get a bit burned.

“Oh my god, so delicious,” Guo Qilin exclaimed, mimicking the tone of a fat senior from his club.

The others also sucked it down in big gulps, praising it endlessly afterward.

Luo Quan’s cooking was so enticing that just the smell made saliva flow like a waterfall.