Chapter 949: Luo Quan Is Under My Protection!

Amidst the constant praise, everyone finished breakfast.

A new day began; everyone picked up their tools and followed He Qiong into the fields to work.

Autumn had just arrived, the busiest time of the year.

Fortunately, the vegetables planted earlier weren’t excessive; everyone picked while chatting, the atmosphere quite relaxed.

“You’ve also planted rice?” Luo Quan saw the golden rice paddies—clearly nearly ripe.

“Planted in summer; we’re planning to harvest in a few days,” Wang Lei said, arms crossed, proudly gazing at the thriving rice.

In truth, they only participated in a small part of the rice planting—mainly digging the fields and diverting water; the rest, including transplanting seedlings, was handled by local farmers hired by the production team.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to transplant—they simply didn’t know how.

The first time they tried, everyone was full of enthusiasm and finished the whole afternoon’s work in one go.

But the next day, when they returned to the field, nearly all the transplanted seedlings had floated to the surface.

At that point, they realized farming wasn’t something they could master with every crop.

Though rice sounded familiar—one of the most well-known crops in Huaxia—growing it well was far from simple.

If you thought transplanting meant just gently sticking the seedlings into the soil, you’d be utterly wrong.

After this mishap, the guests no longer tried to show off; they humbly asked nearby farmers to replant everything.

Now, with the rice on the verge of harvest, though they hadn’t planted it themselves, they’d at least dug the fields and fertilized them—so they still felt a sense of participation, hence their pride.

“So, have you found a thresher?” Luo Quan asked, gazing at the two- or three-mu rice field.

“There doesn’t seem to be a thresher in town,” Wang Lei chuckled awkwardly. “Don’t laugh at me, but I actually don’t know how to thresh rice.”

Master Wang came from a wealthy, well-connected family; he’d never touched farm work in his life. He’d Googled how to plant rice before, but never how to harvest it.

“It’s actually simple—no real technique involved, just brute force.”

Luo Quan pointed at the rice field: “If you don’t have a thresher or combine harvester, you’ll have to have the guests cut each stalk by hand with sickles, then beat or pound the grains off the stalks.”

“Those two steps are the most exhausting. If you want to make it easier, I suggest getting a machine.”

He Qiong laughed: “Let’s just endure the exhaustion—aren’t farmers always exhausted?”

That was a true statement.

Though modern technology has brought many machines to ease labor,

in many regions, farmers still harvest crops using the most primitive methods.

Of course, the crude methods are tiring.

But for He Qiong and Wang Lei, having the guests work harder might even be a good thing.

Isn’t that exactly what viewers want to see—hardship and exhaustion?

So neither of them was particularly worried.

As for Luo Quan, the guest who flew in, she was secretly relieved—thank goodness filming ended tomorrow and she’d be leaving; if she had to stay here and thresh rice the hard way, she’d be worn out to death.

Luo Quan, having narrowly escaped the ordeal, quietly rejoiced—and swiftly scooped up a small fish from the rice field.

These fish had been placed there by the production team, specifically for guests to catch, to add humor to the filming.

After all, every guest became clumsy once they stepped into the field; asking them to catch fish was like hoping they wouldn’t trip over their own feet.

But Luo Quan’s skill was clearly unmatched; catching a fish was so simple—just bend down, reach out, and it’s done.

Seeing the lively grass carp in Luo Quan’s hand, the other guests looked astonished.

“Dude, how’d you catch that? I chased one all day yesterday and didn’t get it,” Peng Yuchang said incredulously.

Guo Qilin immediately chimed in: “Come on, my sister Luo is the world’s top female boxer—catching a fish is nothing.”

“We’re having fish for dinner tonight,” Zhang Zifeng grinned broadly.

Hearing this pure foodie comment, everyone burst into laughter.

After laughing, everyone bent back to work.

“A Life We Yearn For” is like this—no dramatic plot twists, no thrilling games, just day after day of labor.

Plain and uneventful, yet deeply moving in its simplicity.

As a slow-paced variety show, it’s the pinnacle domestically—those who like it love it; those who don’t find it boring and passionless.

Farming—eating—that’s the main rhythm of the show.

The “Truth or Dare” segment at dinner time serves as the episode’s summary.

Compared to last night, tonight’s meal was even more abundant.

Just the pot of braised pork belly and the pot of spicy boiled fish had the young guests practically sprinting into the kitchen.

There was no help for it—Luo Quan’s two dishes were simply too fragrant, too tempting.

After enduring the wait until mealtime, everyone lost all restraint, immediately grabbing chopsticks and devouring heartily.

Although Luo Quan herself didn’t care for fish, she knew exactly how to cook boiled fish.

Clearly, everyone else was extremely satisfied with the dish—one piece of fish could accompany nearly a third of a bowl of rice.

She herself only picked at the braised pork belly and stir-fried bamboo shoots.

The food was so delicious that no one’s mouth stopped eating, delaying the “Truth or Dare” segment until after everyone was full.

Originally, this segment was meant to happen during the meal, side by side—but today was clearly impossible.

Everyone ate more than the next, ending up half-lying on the sofa, too full to even blink.

“Alright, everyone, let me kick things off.”

He Qiong had eaten slightly less and could still speak, though his expression showed visible effort:

“What is ‘a life we yearn for’? Some might say it’s just working hard enough to eat well and stay warm—but that’s only the most basic life.

What people truly yearn for is eating well and dressing well. After tasting Luo Quan’s food today, I finally understand—this is the life I’ve always wanted!”

“Haha, too bad Sister Luo leaves tomorrow,” Guo Qilin laughed.

He Qiong nodded gently: “So I’ve decided—from today on—I’ll devote myself to mastering cooking. I don’t need to reach Luo Quan’s level, but at least I want to be able to cook whatever I crave—and make it delicious!”

“That won’t be easy,” Wang Lei rolled over on the sofa, lying on his right side to ease the pressure on his stomach.

“That’s exactly why you must study seriously,” He Qiong clenched his fist, as if making a solemn vow to add another skill to his repertoire.

Thus, the originally lengthy “Truth or Dare” segment ended abruptly.

No one expected they’d be too full to continue filming; after lying around for a while, everyone returned to their rooms and collapsed onto their beds.

Fortunately, enough footage had been captured; otherwise, this episode wouldn’t have been complete.

With filming essentially finished, Luo Quan booked her flight back to Shanghai for first thing tomorrow.

Peng Yuchang and Guo Qilin were also heading to the airport, but to different destinations—one to Beijing for filming, the other to Tianjin for xiangsheng.

Everyone’s schedules were packed tight; though they worked the fields on “A Life We Yearn For,” it was hard to say who had it easier compared to their other commitments.

“Goodbye—”

Early the next morning, Luo Quan and the others boarded the car amid farewell calls from the crew.

By the time she landed in Shanghai, four hours had passed.

The first thing she did upon returning to Shanghai was cook two dishes at home: fish-flavored shredded pork and twice-cooked pork—both extremely rice-friendly home staples.

The urgency stemmed from the fact that she hadn’t eaten enough during her two days on the show.

Ever since her Wu Gong had broken through the first level of the Da Pin Tian Xian Jue, her appetite had skyrocketed; her previous portions no longer filled her stomach, and within two hours of eating, her belly would rumble loudly.

The problem was, the production team filmed all three meals, so she couldn’t eat freely.

If footage of her wolfing down ten or more bowls of rice in one go got leaked, the nickname “Abyssal Maw” would haunt her forever.

So for the past two days, she’d held back—she might as well have been tightening her belt.

Only now, back home, could Luo Quan finally feast to her heart’s content.

“You cooked a whole electric rice cooker full? Can you even finish it?” Wen Xia asked, startled as Luo Quan carried the nearly overflowing rice cooker to the dining table.

“Don’t worry, I’ll finish it,” Luo Quan said, scooping a massive bowl of rice into a regular iron serving basin—then picking up her chopsticks.

“Dude, when did you switch careers to food streaming?”

Wen Xia and Su Yu were stunned; only food streamers ever ate from basins.

And not every food streamer was that extreme—it took a “giant eater” label to dare such a feat.

And of ten such “giant eaters,” eight were faking it.

But Luo Quan’s demeanor made it clear—she meant business.

No, she’d already started.

She grabbed a large clump of fish-flavored shredded pork, dripped oil over the rice, shoved it into her mouth, then buried her face into the bowl and shoveled in a huge mouthful, her cheeks bulging.

But she didn’t chew much—she simply swallowed the entire mouthful whole.

This wild eating style made the two women tense up; they immediately moved closer, concerned: “Luo Bao, did you starve in the mountains? You look like you haven’t eaten in three days!”

“That’s not why,” Luo Quan waved her chopsticks. “After my Wu Gong broke through, my appetite suddenly exploded. I think my body’s become stronger, but its energy consumption has increased too—I need massive energy to replenish it.”

“Besides Qi, food is another source—so my appetite has grown enormously.”

“You scared me—I thought you had binge-eating disorder,” Wen Xia and Su Yu both sighed in relief.

High physical quality leading to high energy consumption was plausible.

Like athletes—they often eat huge amounts and have multiple meals a day.

Luo Quan’s physical condition was stronger than any athlete on Earth; such a massive appetite wasn’t hard to understand.

“By the way, after I finish eating, I’ll be entering seclusion for a while—I won’t be going out, and don’t bother bringing me meals.” Luo Quan took another huge bite, then turned to Wen Xia.

“Got it,” Wen Xia gave an OK sign. “If anyone comes looking for you, say you’re in the middle of artistic creation and see no one.”

“Perfect excuse—say that,” Luo Quan approved.

But she’d eaten too fast and choked, coughing hard twice, her face turning red.

Wen Xia, seeing this, laughed and sighed: “You’d better not talk—otherwise you might choke and it’ll be a mess.”

“I’m fine—I’ve got steel bones and iron muscles,” Luo Quan took a deep breath, showing she was unharmed.

Indeed, as she said, her body had become extremely resilient—even the seemingly fragile internal organs were as strong as her outer skin.

But Wen Xia and the others didn’t know that.

After no one replied, Luo Quan lowered her head and ate diligently; soon, the rice in the bowl was gone.

Just as Wen Xia thought she was done eating, she saw Luo Quan pour all the rice from the electric rice cooker into the bowl, filling it another half-full.

“Oh? Got such a big appetite now?”

Leon walked over, saw his older sister eating from a bowl, and chuckled: “Hey.”

“You might not believe this, but if Luo Quan finishes this bowl, she’s already eaten an entire electric rice cooker full.”

Wen Xia stared at Luo Quan at the table and felt the girl was walking further and further down the path toward a bottomless maw.

“An entire rice cooker?!” Leon’s mouth gaped wide enough to fit an egg, “I’ve only seen people eat from rice cookers on Bilibili, but ours is way bigger than theirs.”

“So your sister’s amazing,” Wen Xia said. “She says it’s a side effect of her Wu Gong progress—higher energy consumption means bigger appetite.”

“Let me correct you.”

Luo Quan’s mouth was full as she looked at Wen Xia: “This isn’t a side effect—it’s a necessary action to meet energy demands. How can eating and sleeping be called side effects?”

“Besides, once you reach higher Wu Gong levels, you’ll all become bigger eaters too—you can’t escape it.”

“That’s great!” Leon said, thrilled. “I love eating, but my appetite’s limited—I can’t try everything. If I could eat like you, it’d be amazing news for me.”

“But I won’t get fat, right?” Wen Xia’s expression turned worried.

She feared aging most—really, she feared getting fat.

“Only if you don’t exercise,” Luo Quan waved her hand. “Don’t worry—replenishing basic energy won’t make you fat, unless you stop training and just gorge yourself all day.”

“You scared me for nothing,” Wen Xia exhaled in relief.

In the meantime, Luo Quan had finished all the remaining food—only the oil and spices were left.

After eating, she pressed a tissue to her mouth and let out a loud, resonant burp.

Amid everyone’s laughter, she dashed upstairs, hoping to avoid the spotlight for a while.