A live stream that dramatically transformed a depressed schoolgirl shocked netizens across the count

The levitating ball swept past the two people from the side, and the flower branches covered half of the camera lens.

This street is full of food stalls; I've already started checking train tickets.

[I can visit milk fan, rice cake, carved plum, tie-dye eight times a day.]

Even the roadside drumstick shaving craftsmen have more character than the posed photos at tourist attractions.

I long to live in the Bai family courtyard, listening to the drums in the morning and drinking tea around the fire in the evening.

[Don't bother checking the previous options; prices for nearby guesthouses have already gone up.]

The number of viewers in the live stream is still increasing.

Strings of corn were drying under the eaves, and bundles of chopped firewood were stacked by the door.

Straw-woven stalls were filled with straw hats and baskets, and a group of children surrounded a cart selling cold shrimp.

The sugar water was ladled into a coarse porcelain bowl, with small grains of rice flour floating in the brown sugar water.

The children squatted in a row with their bowls in their hands, the sound of slurping drowning out the drumbeats at their feet.

The camera pans forward along the street.

The vendors' shouts, the crisp sound of copper hammers striking silver plates, and the muffled thud of wooden mallets testing drums mingled together.

As the procession passed by a house, that house would offer tea and fruit.

Hundreds of thousands of viewers followed the camera through the villages.

Some people took screenshots to identify local snacks, while others flipped through calendars to find holidays, leading to a surge in searches for guesthouses around Erhai Lake.

Bai Weiwei first went to find the elderly man who was presiding over the ceremony.

She stood next to several people from the village committee, explained the scope of the live broadcast, and pointed to the floating ball next to Chen Lang.

"Don't film the shrine used for ancestral worship, don't show the elderly in close-up, and don't give close-ups of the children. Please tell me in advance which parts can't be in the shot."

The old man waved his hand.

"Just know your limits. Feel free to take pictures during the parade, and the stall owners are happy to let people see them too."

An old woman selling preserved plums nearby heard this, grabbed a green plum, and handed it over.

"Take a few more pictures of this. It's homemade, and the sweet and sour flavor is just right."

Chen Lang took the carved plum, took a bite, and raised his eyebrows.

"The payment for this game was settled quickly enough."

The old woman smiled and patted the bamboo sieve.

"If it tastes good, you can say so; if it tastes bad, you're not allowed to say so."

"Your contract terms are even tougher than Xingyao's."

Ye Xingyu stood behind and chuckled twice.

Chen Lang made a gesture towards the suspended ball.

The silver sphere rises to a height of two meters, the focus narrows, and the flower trees in the center of the square are captured in the frame.

White petals covered the stone steps, and the parade was tidying up the drum stand under the tree.

The men lifted the wooden frame to test its weight.

The woman squatted to the side and rewound the loosened red silk.

The bamboo baskets containing the offerings were moved to the roadside, and the remaining fruit was distributed to the children watching, one for each of them, with no one allowed to take more than their share.

Several tourists from out of town walked by, holding up their phones, and stopped beside Shen Qingci.

"Is she the girl who danced on the trending list last night?"

"It's her, I've seen her on social media so many times."

Shen Qingci raised her face and stood still without dodging.

She tucked the thin handkerchief into Ye Xingyu's collar and brushed her loose long hair behind her shoulder.

Ye Xingyu looked at the blue and white cloth strip on her wrist, and her shoulders slumped down.

The levitating ball swept past the two people, leaving a distance of more than a meter.

Ye Xingyu raised her hand and waved towards the live stream.

She pursed her lips, exhaled the breath she had been holding in, and her eyes lifted slightly.

The bruises from staying up all night are still visible, and the fixed expression on his face isn't what the company taught him.

An old woman at the stall handed me a carved plum.

"Girl, have something sweet."

Ye Xingyu caught it with both hands.

"Thank you, Auntie."

"Don't thank me, just have fun here. Nobody's going to rush you to work today."

Ye Xingyu lowered her head and took a small bite. It was so sour that her nose wrinkled, but then she smiled again.

[Xingyu definitely didn't sleep well last night.]

[Qingci is now willing to stand in front of the camera.]

They were eating preserved plums under the flowering trees, while my travel plans were already on page four.

The girls in Lang Ge's photos have all come to life.

Su Niannian held up her phone; Chen Lang's live stream was playing on Douyin. She glanced at the comment and stopped chewing the milk fan in her mouth.

"What do you mean by 'all come back to life'? Are you referring to the old paintings that used to hang on the wall?"

Chen Lang raised his hand and made a gesture.

The levitating ball bypassed Su Niannian's face, and the camera steadily focused on her spatula.

"Su Dapao, mind your image. Hundreds of thousands of people are watching."

"Let them look, I don't owe them any money for their meal."

She put away her phone and pointed the spatula at the camera.

"Who said I'm a New Year's painting? Come out here, I'll add a couple of strokes to your picture."

The comments section was filled with laughter.

Chen Lang took a step back behind her.

"Be civilized when livestreaming, and keep your tools of crime in check."

"Let me deal with the back of your head first."

Su Niannian chased after them for a couple of steps with a spatula in her hand, but Bai Weiwei stepped in between and pushed the two of them apart.

"The drums are about to start, you two shut up for a bit. If you keep making a fuss, the village committee will have to put on a separate show for you."

The drummer raised his mallet, and the parade prepared to depart from the outside of the square.

The vendors retracted the bamboo baskets that were extended by the roadside.

Several children ran to the eaves with bowls of sweet soup in their arms, while the people carrying the flower stand all lowered their shoulders.

The suona player had just drawn his breath into his chest.

The roar of engines crashed in from outside the archway.

Ten supercars with exaggerated decals lined up, their tires rolling over speed bumps.

Several vehicles had their chassis too low, causing the metal to scrape against the road surface and make a screeching sound.

The lead dark purple Lamborghini rushed into the outer area.

The car swung its front end across the intersection, blocking the only exit in the square that allows vehicles to pass.

Heat waves spewed from the exhaust pipe, and flower petals and candy wrappers from the stone slab rolled into the bottom of the car.

The vendor selling Liangxia (a type of cold noodle dish) hurriedly steadied the glass jar, while the elderly man selling straw crafts pulled his bamboo basket hanging by the roadside back.

A child holding a teacup was standing in the middle of the road. Bai Weiwei rushed over and led him to the eaves.

The song ended halfway through.

The mallet rests above the drumhead.

The villagers who had been carrying the flower rack took off their shoulders and moved it to the roadside.

Tourists backed away from the stalls, while several elderly people stood in front of the door, leaning on their canes, their eyes fixed on the convoy blocking the exit.

The suspended ball rises on its own.

The wide-angle lens swept over ten cars, the blocked exit, the stalls full of goods, and the parade in the square.

The number of viewers in the live stream exceeded two million.

[I just booked a guesthouse, and now someone's blocking the road in the village?]

Ten supercars blocked the parade exit. Do these people even know how to drive?

That purple SVJ belongs to Xiao Yunlong; I've seen it in his garage before.

[There are elderly people and children all around, plus stalls; who are you trying to make the revving engine work for?]

Ye Xingyu stared at the license plate of the lead car.

She clenched her fingers into her palm, her lips moved twice, and her breath caught in her throat.

Several phones next to her were turned towards her, and Shen Qingci took half a step forward, using her body to block the camera.

"Stand behind me."

Ye Xingyu grabbed her sleeve.

"He's here for me."

Shen Qingci did not turn around.

"That's not your turn to answer it alone."

Su Niannian put down the unfinished milk fan and twirled the spatula halfway in her palm.

"If they dare to mess with this stall, I'll show them what local specialties are all about."

Gu Qingshang took out his phone and started recording.

"Don't do anything yet. Record the license plate, location, and duration of the traffic jam."

Chen Lang glanced at the intersection blocked by the convoy, then reached out and pushed a child who had run off the roof back to the adults.

"Su Dapao, put the spatula away."

"They started the trouble first."

"Causing trouble is the police's job. If you shovel it down, the lawyer will have to prepare another set of documents."

Su Niannian gritted her teeth and pressed the spatula back to her side.

The scissor doors of the Lamborghini rise.

Xiao Yunlong, dressed in a black and gold racing suit, stepped out of the driver's seat, his reflective sunglasses covering half of his face.

Ah Biao got out of the car behind with seven or eight reporters and anchors.

The camera, fill light, and microphone were all aimed at Ye Xingyu.

The flashes went off one after another.

Ye Xingyu stepped back to the stone steps, her heels bracing against them.

Su Niannian stood in front of her, holding a spatula.

"If anyone moves the camera forward again, I'll add a wok filter to their image on the spot."

The livestreamers stopped in their tracks.

Gu Qingshang walked to the other side and started recording with his phone.

She recorded the vehicle's location, license plate, exit, and the crowd of onlookers in sequence.

Chen Lang did not turn off the live stream.

He tapped the side of his ear twice with his fingers.

The levitating ball rose above the plaza, and the camera shot downwards, bringing the entire scene of ten cars blocking the exit into the live broadcast room.

"Family members, look carefully."

Chen Lang glanced at the leading Lamborghini.

"That's called paying for roadblocks."

[Brother Lang's comments are spot on.]

Others drive supercars to show off, but he immediately labels them as roadblocks.

[Blocking the villagers' parade and bringing media to surround them—what kind of challenge is this?]