American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

Mike Finch was stunned.

He originally just wanted to get the kid to say some plain phrases like "we have to fight like men" and "protect our homeland" to please the uneducated redneck audience.

But he never expected that Fett would be able to produce such a logically rigorous, insightful, and heartwarming "perfect essay".

With that eloquence and depth of thought, he'd be qualified to run for state legislator!

"Oh My God……"

Mike glanced subconsciously at the young man talking eloquently in the viewfinder, and his sense of regret deepened.

He would certainly have a better future if he could go to a top university.

Hopefully someone will see this and come buy a Christmas tree to help them out.

This footage could definitely sell for a high price!

Thinking of this, his hands trembled slightly, and his heart was filled with the excitement of about to make a fortune.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his overwhelming joy, and gave Fett two thumbs up:

"Well said!"

"Perfect, absolutely perfect."

Seeing Mike's expression, Fett breathed a sigh of relief.

Hehe! Luckily I didn't forget those templates!

Mike Finch turned off the camera and quickly began packing up the equipment.

As he stuffed batteries and a microphone into his bag, he excitedly assured them:

"I'll drive back right now, do a rough cut of this video, and send it directly to the editors-in-chief of those TV stations."

"Just wait to be on TV!"

Fei nodded, "Thank you for your hard work!"

After packing up, Mike slung his heavy camera bag over his shoulder and shook Fett's hand firmly once more:

"Thank you again for your cooperation. Time is money, so I won't stay any longer."

"Remember to text me the phone number on my business card so I know how to contact you."

"I'll let you know as soon as the broadcast results are available!"

"Okay! I'll send you a message in a bit," Fett replied.

After saying that, Microphone rushed out the door.

Old Frank looked at Fett, his eyes filled with satisfaction:

What you just said was excellent.

"Men of Arkansas should be responsible and accountable, just like you said."

He looked down at Fett's legs:

"How's the wound? Does it still hurt?"

"Much better." Fett lifted his leg slightly. Although there was still pain in the wound, it was also slightly numb and itchy.

Leila added, "The wound isn't red or swollen, and there's no oozing. It's healing very well."

"Okay, then you should rest well."

Old Frank made a decision with a wave of his hand:

"We'll just have a quick bite for lunch. Tonight, we'll eat that wild boar you killed! That beast dared to hurt you; it won't get away with it even after it's dead!"

He turned to Lyra and said:

"Layla, go home later and tell your parents that you're going to be on TV, and tell them to come over after lunch."

"This afternoon, I helped them both take care of that beast. Tonight, our two families will eat meat together and watch you on TV!"

Lyra glanced at Fett, who had difficulty walking, and hesitated:

"Uncle Frank, Fett has difficulty moving around, so I'll stay here and take care of him. You can just make a phone call and tell them."

Fett also spoke up:

"Dad, I need to talk to Lyra about something. Could you please tell Uncle Roy and the others?"

Old Frank glanced at Lyra, then at Fett, a knowing smile flashing in his eyes: "Alright! You two can stay inside then."

"By the way! Uncle Frank, the chimney in Fett's room seems to be blocked; it backs up smoke whenever it's lit."

"Could you please turn it on while you're at it? Otherwise, if we don't light the fireplace tonight, Fett will get cold while he sleeps."

"knew!"

Old Frank looked at the perfectly matched young couple and readily agreed, then turned around and hummed a little tune as he made a phone call.

As the old man's footsteps faded into the distance, only Fett and Lyra remained in the living room.

The air suddenly became somewhat quiet.

Lyra remembered that Fett had said he needed to talk to her, so she turned around to look at him, about to ask what it was.

But he found that Fett was staring straight at him with those deep eyes.

Only then did the two of them have a moment of peace after surviving the ordeal.

A subtle atmosphere quietly arose between the two.

Sunlight streamed through the window, gilding Fet's sharply defined profile with a golden edge, making Lyra momentarily dazed.

Her heart started beating faster, and her breathing became rapid.

What...what is he going to say?

Is it a confession?

Leila's fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes.

She lowered her head, fiddled with her hair, and avoided looking Fett in the eye, her voice barely audible, a whisper tinged with anticipation and nervousness:

"F...Fett, what do you want?"

Fett looked at her slender yet strong arms, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was deep and earnest:

"Lyra!"

"Teach me how to shoot!"

"I agree!"

Layla suddenly raised her head and blurted out the words, her voice so loud it startled even herself.

But then she realized what Fett had said in the second half of his sentence.

It's not "be my girlfriend".

Instead, it was "teach me to practice shooting".

Leila's expression froze on her face; the joy that was about to burst forth was immediately blocked, stuck in her throat, neither coming out nor going down.

"what?"

She blinked, looking at Fett with a bewildered expression:

"Practice...practice shooting?"

Fett's eyes were resolute:

"Yes! Practice shooting."

He glanced at the hunting rifle hanging on the wall, then at his bandaged leg:

"I've always studied in the city, so I haven't had many opportunities to handle guns."

"But guns are good things, you have to practice."

"I didn't expect any large wild animals to appear near the farm, so I wasn't in a hurry to learn."

"We suffered a huge loss. We almost lost our lives."

"Once I've mastered shooting, I'll carry one with me wherever I go."

"If I encounter this situation again, I can take that beast down from dozens of meters away, and I will never be as passive as I was last night."

He sighed, his tone tinged with frustration:

"If I had a gun last night, even if I couldn't have hit it, the sound of the gunshot and the smell of gunpowder would have scared that wild boar away."

After hearing this, Leila's romantic feelings dissipated considerably, and she puffed out her cheeks somewhat dejectedly:

"Okay... alright! I'll teach you."

She glanced at Fett's bandaged leg and left hand, frowning. "However..."

"What about the wound on your leg? It must hurt!"

"It's alright."

Fett stretched his body, looking relaxed:

"Didn't you already see the condition of my wound?"

"Shooting doesn't require running or jumping, and my legs don't hurt as long as I don't move."

Lyra was still uneasy, and pointed to Fett's hand again:

"What about your hand? The recoil of the gun is huge; every shot will shake your hand. Can your left palm withstand the injury?"

Fett raised his hands and looked at them:

"My left hand is more badly chafed, but my right hand only has a few cuts and is fine."

"At worst, we can start with pistols. They have less recoil, so I should be able to hold a gun with one hand."

"What do you say, Instructor Lyra?"