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

Chapter 50 isn't this one?

The door to the village broadcasting station was pushed open forcefully.

With a "bang," the old wooden door slammed against the wall, trembled a few times, and dust fell in clumps.

At this moment, Wang Yuzheng's appearance was nothing like that of a famous variety show director. His hair was messy, one corner of his shirt was tucked into his waistband while the other corner was hanging out, and his limited edition sneakers were covered in mud.

He was panting heavily, his chest heaving violently, and his eyes were bloodshot. This frantic run had almost broken his old bones.

inside the house.

Li Mo'an was sitting at that old broadcasting table, preparing to continue persuading the villagers.

Hearing the noise, he turned his head expressionlessly and looked at the aggressive director at the door.

"Director Wang?"

Li Mo'an blinked, her tone calm: "Why are you in such a hurry? Want some water?"

Looking at the still calm young man in front of him, Wang Yu felt a surge of anger and immense fear, which instantly rushed to the top of his head.

He rushed to the broadcasting desk, braced his hands on the table, leaned forward, and stared intently into Li Mo'an's eyes.

Because he had run so fast, his voice was hoarse and broken, trembling with a crack:

"Shut up!"

"I'll just ask you one question!"

Wang Yu was shouting, spitting as he spoke:

"It's all been exposed online! Those things... those things you dug up..."

"Is it a real bomb?!"

After shouting those words, Wang Yu felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

He stared intently at Li Mo'an, both hoping for a positive answer and fearing one. This conflicting feeling caused him to tremble slightly.

at this time.

Li Mo'an was a little puzzled as she looked at the director, who seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

"What's wrong with the director? Why is he reacting so strongly?"

Such a thought came to his mind.

In his view, wasn't this matter already obvious?

So Li Mo'an replied in a matter-of-fact tone, even implying, "Why did it take you so long to realize?"

"yes."

"They're all bombs."

"Didn't I already say that?"

Li Mo'an's voice was soft and steady, without the slightest ripple.

but.

The black microphone in front of him, which was not turned off, picked up every word.

The current traveled along the aging wiring and instantly reached the huge loudspeaker standing in the center of the village.

"Sizzle—"

The amplified sound instantly reverberated throughout every corner of the village, even startling the birds on the back hill into flight.

"They're all bombs, didn't I tell you that before?"

The echo reverberated through the valley.

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

at the same time.

Inside Mushroom Village, a lively scene unfolded.

Encouraged by the program's "Best Creative Award," and with a reward of fifty yuan for rice, soybean oil, and other ingredients, the villagers unleashed their boundless wisdom.

East end of the village.

Grandma Wang was sitting at the entrance of her own yard, with a large basin of freshly washed garlic cloves in front of her.

She was gripping the wooden-handled grenade tightly in her hand, smashing it with great enthusiasm.

"This thing is really handy."

As she smashed the garlic, Aunt Wang showed it off to a passing neighbor, "Look at this base, it's so flat. One hit and the garlic juice comes right out. It's much better than my lousy wooden mallet."

And next door.

Old Li, the carpenter in the village, was holding up an anti-tank mine and gesturing about it.

"This iron disc is sturdy; I happen to need a bolt holder for the pigsty door."

Old Li, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, pondered whether he should drill a hole in the landmine to secure it to the door frame.

And the group of children at the village entrance.

The chubby boy was pushing his beloved "airplane bomb rocking horse" to the ground, calling over a few friends to come over. They were using it as a spinning top, whipping it with whips, having a great time.

And in the fields.

The people in the Mushroom House were also busy.

This is a lush green cornfield, where the corn is growing very well.

Teacher Huang was sitting on a rather old small stool, holding the "hammer" he had taken from Li Mo'an—that is, the Type 97 mortar shell.

He was tired from working, and as soon as he sat down, the legs of the stool loosened, almost causing him to fall on his backside.

As someone who values quality of life and is highly skilled with his hands, Teacher Huang certainly couldn't tolerate it.

"Come on, Teacher He, help me with this."

Teacher Huang called to He Ling, while he skillfully turned the mortar shell upside down, held the tail tube, and aimed the rounded bullet at the tenon on the stool leg.

"eighty!"

"Bang!"

"eighty!"

"Bang!"

The dull metallic clanging echoed across the fields.

Teacher Huang smashed the wood with great rhythm, putting all his strength into each strike. The impact of the mortar shell's warhead against the wood caused the rust on top to fall off in a rustling sound.

While he was fixing it, his urge to teach others kicked in again.

He stopped what he was doing, wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked at his younger sister who was helping to hand him nails, and He Ling who looked on with curiosity, and began his little science lesson.

"Look at this corn, how well it's growing."

Teacher Huang pointed to the corn stalks around her, a confident smile on her face, radiating wisdom from life:

"This is what we commonly call spring corn."

"Many people can't distinguish between spring corn and autumn corn. It's actually very simple."

He brandished the mortar shell in his hand, pointing and saying:

"Spring corn is usually sown from late February to early March. It grows slowly, taking about four to five months to grow."

"Therefore, it will enter the harvest season from late May to early June, which is around this time of year."

At this point, Teacher Huang raised the cannonball again and slammed it hard against the stool.

"eighty!"

"This spring corn has plump kernels and a sweet, sticky texture. It tastes much better than the autumn corn that only ripens in a few dozen days."

He Ling, listening from the side, nodded repeatedly: "Teacher Huang knows so much, no wonder he's called a fortune teller."

The younger sister's eyes sparkled: "Daddy Huang is amazing!"

Just as Teacher Huang was enjoying the admiration of everyone and preparing to give that stubborn tenon one last heavy blow to smash it in completely,

While the villagers were busy crushing garlic and spinning tops, creating a lively and bustling scene...

"Sizzle—"

The distinctive electrical hum of an old-fashioned loudspeaker suddenly filled the air above the village.

Followed by.

Li Mo'an's unique, calm yet magnetic voice, amplified by the loudspeaker, carried with great penetrating power and clearly resonated throughout every inch of the land.

[They're all bombs, didn't I tell you before?]

This sentence.

There were no ups and downs.

No emotions.

It's as bland as stating "We'll have rice tonight."

but.

The instant those words were spoken.

The whole world fell silent instantly.

The wind stopped.

The cicadas have stopped chirping.

At the east end of the village, Grandma Wang's hand, which was holding a grenade, froze in mid-air, a rather comical pose.

The garlic paste in the stone mortar in front of her seemed to be emitting a fragrance.

At the village entrance, a chubby little boy was whipping a spinning top. The whip was raised in the air, his mouth was wide open, but the words "Spin it!" were stuck in his throat and he couldn't shout them out.

And in the cornfield.

Teacher Huang's raised right hand also froze in mid-air.

The heavy mortar shell he held in his hand was less than ten centimeters away from Maza's fragile wooden leg.

Sunlight shone on the rusty shell, reflecting a dull luster.

The smile on Teacher Huang's face froze on her face before she could even wipe it away, which looked very strange.

His eye twitched.

He Ling stopped holding the stool.

The nail that my sister was holding fell to the ground with a "clink".

next second.

"Clatter".

I don't know who let go first.

Followed by.