This was asking for trouble

Shen Wangjing had woken up at some point.

He stood beside the bed, holding Duan Qizhao up by the back of his collar with one hand. His expression was as indifferent as ever, but his brow sat a fraction lower than usual.

"What are you doing?"

Dangling in midair, Duan Qizhao flushed bright red. He stiffened his neck, so embarrassed his toes were practically digging into the floor-fortunately, his feet couldn't reach it right now.

His brain raced for half a second before he squeezed out a perfectly self-righteous answer: "I'm cold!"

"Then put another coat over yourself."

"That lousy padded jacket lets drafts in everywhere! Having it on is no different from having nothing!" Duan Qizhao struggled, found he couldn't break free, and simply abandoned all restraint.

"What's wrong with squeezing in? We're all guys. Sharing a bed won't kill you-"

Woken by the commotion, Jiang Xun poked half his face out from under the quilt, his hair sticking up in every direction, and squinted toward the bedside.

He happened to catch the sorry sight of Duan Qizhao dangling from Shen Wangjing's hand, with "nothing left to live for" written all over his face.

"What are you doing?" His voice was hoarse.

As if he had found a lifeline, Duan Qizhao pointed at Shen Wangjing and complained, "Do something about him! I just wanted to warm up, and he nearly strangled me!"

Jiang Xun yawned, rolled the quilt around himself, and turned over, leaving them with the rounded back of his head.

"Let him strangle you."

Duan Qizhao: "..."

Shen Wangjing tossed Duan Qizhao back onto the long bench, then turned and picked up the military overcoat he had been sleeping under, exchanging it for the tattered padded jacket in Duan Qizhao's arms.

He also casually grabbed a sack from the corner and tossed it over.

"Put that over yourself too if you're still cold."

Duan Qizhao wasn't blind. The word "UREA" was printed clear as day on the sack.

"You want me to sleep under a fertilizer sack?!"

Shen Wangjing had already lain down on the other bench, wrapped the old padded jacket around himself, and closed his eyes.

Duan Qizhao glared at the sack, then at Shen Wangjing, who had fallen asleep the instant he lay down. His lips trembled for a long while before he finally pulled the military overcoat over his head and let out a muffled roar. "Once I get back to Capital City-"

"Quiet."

At last, everything went still beneath the military overcoat.

In the office at the Shiban Village committee building that the production crew had temporarily commandeered, the director was at her wits' end.

She had just hung up on a call with the station head and hadn't yet had time to work through her anger when another uninvited visitor appeared at the door.

Li Guizhi stood in the doorway, looking as though she had been constipated for three days, and forced out a smile.

"Director, there's something I'd like to bring to your attention."

The director looked up and glanced at her. The footage of Li Guizhi bringing people to make trouble at Shen Wangjing's home last time was still sitting on the editing drive. Her impression of the village chief's wife couldn't have been worse.

But they were filming on her turf, after all, so appearances still had to be maintained.

"What is it, Li? Go ahead."

Li Guizhi swept her gaze around the office, pausing on the monitor for an instant before quickly looking away.

She cleared her throat. "Your crew invited two young masters from the city to our village. That's a good thing, giving our Shiban Village some publicity. My husband and I both support it."

The director waited for her to continue.

"But..." Li Guizhi's face twisted.

"You've put them both in Shen Wangjing's house. The Shen family is the poorest in our village. His father ran up a mountain of debt before he died, and that rundown house doesn't even have a decent bed. How can those city kids be comfortable staying there? Doesn't that disgrace our Shiban Village?"

The director raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

Seeing that she remained impassive, Li Guizhi gritted her teeth and blurted out the rest. "Our family has the best living conditions in the whole village. Our house is big, and we have spare rooms. One of the young masters could move in with us."

She paused, then added, "This is what Pengfei wants too-he really hits it off with that boy called Jiang Xun and wants him to stay at our house."

The look in the director's eyes changed subtly.

Zhao Pengfei and Jiang Xun hit it off?

She had filmed the entire food-snatching incident in the cafeteria a few days ago. Jiang Xun had hit Zhao Pengfei in the face with a cornmeal bun, slammed a stainless steel lunch box over his head, and sent him sprawling.

How was that hitting it off? Was he bowing down to take Jiang Xun as his master?

Li Guizhi probably knew her claims didn't hold water either, but she braced herself and added, "Anyway, your crew can decide what to do. Our family genuinely wants to help."

With that, she turned and left, her steps so hurried she looked as though a dog were chasing her.

When the assistant came out of the village committee building, his expression was rather gleeful at the prospect of trouble.

The director's exact words had been, "Go tell the two young masters that the village chief's family is willing to offer one bed. Their conditions are better than Shen Wangjing's. There's a bed to sleep in and meat to eat. Ask who wants to go."

The assistant had grinned right then. "Director, you're stirring up trouble."

The director hadn't even raised her eyelids. "What trouble am I stirring up? I'm looking after their welfare. The village chief's wife offered it herself. I can hardly stop her, can I?"

The assistant nodded, thinking that the director certainly knew her business. This move killed two birds with one stone-

They could film the contrast of a young master from the city moving into the village chief's home, while also watching the two troublemakers come to blows over a single bed.

No matter who went and who stayed, it would make for sensational footage.

The assistant jogged all the way back to Shen Wangjing's house. When he pushed open the door, Duan Qizhao was squatting beneath the jujube tree, brushing his teeth.

He had frozen all night. Having that military overcoat over him had been no different from having nothing. In the latter half of the night, he had wrapped himself in the urea sack too, but his teeth had still chattered from the cold for half the night.

Jiang Xun sat at the low table gnawing on an ear of corn with great concentration, his cheeks bulging with each bite. He didn't even lift his eyes toward the assistant.

"Young masters," the assistant cleared his throat, "I have some good news."

Duan Qizhao stopped brushing, though the electric toothbrush was still buzzing inside his mouth, and asked indistinctly, "What good news? Has my dad finally come around and decided to take me home?"

"Uh, no," the assistant said. "The village chief's family is willing to offer one bed. They have the best living conditions in the village-a redbrick house, aluminum-framed windows, a bed, meat, and an electric fan. I wanted to ask which of you would like to move over there."