Stop it, the country really can't fit any more bans on the domestic entertainment industry.

The next day, early in the morning.

The sun shone once again on this small mountain village deep in southern Yunnan.

According to the rules Li Mo'an had set beforehand, today was the second day that batch of hammers was being lent out.

For most villagers, it was just an ordinary day. But inspired by the Best Creative Award that the production team had unexpectedly announced late last night, a subtle yet intense chemical reaction occurred throughout the village.

The temptation was rice, soybean oil, and fifty yuan in cash.

That was the spark ignited by the boundless wisdom of the working people.

So when the program's cameramen carried their equipment, intending to go to the village to shoot some footage and see what the so-called "everyone sharing hammers" was all about, they captured scenes that would make bomb disposal experts around the world have a stroke on the spot.

The camera pans past the village entrance and first arrives at Aunt Zhang's house at the east end of the village.

It was breakfast time, and the aroma of firewood-cooked food filled the farmhouse courtyard.

Aunt Zhang was wearing an apron and squatting on a small stool by the kitchen door, with a stone mortar for crushing garlic in front of her.

What she was tightly clutching in her hand was not the common wooden mallet.

Instead, it was an object with a long wooden handle and a head that was a lump of cast iron.

It was a standard German-made M24 hand grenade with a wooden handle. Although the handle was somewhat rotten, the structure was still intact.

Or rather, it was the version copied by the University of Tokyo back then.

Aunt Zhang skillfully tossed a few cloves of garlic into the stone mortar, then raised the mortar high in her hand.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

With rhythmic thuds, the cast iron projectile, filled with high explosives, was colliding intimately and violently with the hard stone mortar base.

With each impact, the garlic cloves shattered into pieces, splattering juice everywhere.

Every impact is like tap dancing on the nose of death.

Aunt Zhang was smashing things with great enthusiasm, and while she was smashing, she was also cheerfully talking to the camera that was coming closer:

"Wow, this thing really works!"

She shook the wooden handle in her hand, a satisfied look on her face:

"Look, this handle is long, easy to grip, and has a nice anti-slip grip. It's also heavy at the top; you don't need to use much force, just drop it and the garlic will turn to mush!"

"My old wooden mallet was so flimsy, it would take forever to break. This iron lump, it's done in two hits!"

As she spoke, she struck him twice more hard.

"Bang! Bang!"

The photographer's hand trembled slightly, and the lens shook accordingly.

Although he didn't know it was a real hand grenade, the sight of its shape and the dull metallic clanging sound sent a chill down his spine.

But this is just the appetizer.

........................................

The camera then shifts to Li Erniu's house at the west end of the village.

Li Erniu's family has a chubby three-year-old son who is at the naughty age.

At this moment, on the muddy ground in the yard.

A massive aerial bomb, at least half a meter tall, was embedded headfirst in the soil, with its tail fins pointing upwards, only half of its body protruding from the ground.

The chubby three-year-old boy was riding on the rusty missile, his little hands gripping the tail fins on both sides, his bottom rubbing against the smooth metal shell.

"Giddy up! Giddy up!"

The child chanted a slogan, treating the massive bomb—enough to level half the village—as his little rocking horse.

Li Erniu stood to the side, holding a rice bowl in his hand, watching his son having fun, and he couldn't stop smiling.

"Son, hold on tight! Don't fall!"

He explained to the photographer:

"This thing is heavy but stable! I was thinking of buying a rocking horse for my child, but now it seems unnecessary. This one can not only be ridden, but also help build courage!"

"And look at this look, so imposing! Your child will definitely grow up to be a real man!"

In the footage, the child's innocent smile and the gruesome war remnant beneath him create a powerfully impactful image.

........................................

The camera then shifted to the doorstep of Wang Laosan, a bachelor in the village.

Wang Laosan was a lazy man who usually liked to squat at the doorway, sunbathe, and smoke.

At that moment, he was sitting with his legs crossed, a cheap cigarette that cost 2.5 yuan a pack dangling from his mouth, puffing out smoke.

On the threshold at his feet lay a disc-shaped iron lump.

It was an anti-personnel mine with the pressure plate removed, revealing a circular groove in the middle, which was originally the location for installing the fuse and explosive chamber.

Now, the groove is filled with cigarette ash and several cigarette butts.

Wang Laosan took a puff of his cigarette, then skillfully reached out and tapped the ash off his cigarette against the edge of the landmine.

"Da, da."

The cigarette ash fell precisely into the groove of the thunderbolt.

Then, he pushed the cigarette butt in, twisted it, and put it out.

Facing the camera, Wang Laosan grinned, showing off his large, yellow teeth, and pointed quite smugly at the ashtray on the ground:

"Look, this thing looks like it was made just for me."

"The size and depth are just right. And it's made of iron, so it's heat-resistant and won't break if dropped."

"Do you know what the most crucial thing is?"

Wang Laosan mysteriously leaned closer to the camera and patted the landmine:

"This thing looks tough! It has an industrial vibe! When I was working in the city, the things that big bosses had on their desks were all this high-end."

These scenes were broadcast live across the entire internet without reservation via high-definition signals.

Viewers who initially thought they were just watching a live stream of road construction have now gone completely crazy.

The live stream room was filled with a joyful and crazy atmosphere.

"Hahahaha! I can't take it anymore! I'm going to die laughing in this live stream!"

"The production team is actually working?! This idea is absolutely brilliant!"

"Using a grenade to smash garlic? Hardcore! So hardcore! Every single one of those grenade smashes felt like a blow to my heart!"

"I've learned something new! I'm going to order a hand grenade model right now to smash garlic at home—it'll really add a sense of ritual!"

"That kid riding the cannonball is a genius! That childhood is the absolute pinnacle! I won't need to make things up for my essays anymore!"

"Landmine-themed ashtrays? Cyberpunk in the new countryside? Wang Laosan, you have a good eye for aesthetics!"

........................................

Countless screenshots have been turned into memes.

Aunt Zhang holding a grenade, like Thor's hammer.jpg

A child riding a bomb is winning at the starting line.jpg

Wang Laosan's elegant way of flicking cigarette ash will never go out of style.jpg

These emojis spread like wildfire, sweeping across major social media platforms in just half an hour.

Everyone felt that these were props and scripts carefully designed by the production team, and they were all amazed at how hard the production team had gone to make the show funny.

No one realized that those lumps of iron being smashed, ridden, and scalded were actually the sleeping Grim Reaper.

at the same time.

At the village entrance, on that dirt road that is still under construction.

"when!"

"when!"

The familiar sound of hammering still echoes.

Wearing his training uniform soaked with sweat, Li Mo'an held a hoe in his hand and calmly repeated the monotonous digging motion.

He turned a blind eye to everything that was happening in the village.

Whether it was the sound of Aunt Zhang crushing garlic, the sound of children playing, or the sound of Wang Laosan boasting, they all seemed to be shut out from his world.

He dug out another mortar shell with tail fins, picked it up casually, looked at the rust on it, and then tossed it into the pile next to him like a radish.

"Another one."

He muttered something to himself in a low voice.

The sunlight shone on his face, but his handsome features remained completely expressionless.

Even now, the entire village has become a powder keg that could explode at any moment; even though the villagers are frantically flirting with death while holding his spoils.

He remained calm, completely an outsider.

It was as if those repurposed explosives had nothing to do with him.

Or perhaps in his unique understanding, as long as it didn't explode, it was a useful piece of iron, and there was nothing wrong with the villagers making the most of it.

This extreme tranquility, combined with the villagers' whimsical wisdom and the frenzied online celebration, creates a bizarre yet harmonious scene.

This is a grand, bizarre, yet incredibly realistic dark comedy.

And the climax of this play seems to be only just beginning to heat up.