Chapter Forty-Six: Let’s Have Another Round, Our Way

As expected, the moment Xiao Siqi heard what Xiao Yao said, he immediately understood that Xiao Yao was admitting this piece of music was his own creation. However, Xiao Yao didn’t directly confess; instead, he shifted the focus back to the name, signaling that he still preferred not to attract too much attention for the time being.

“I see,” Xiao Siqi nodded with a feigned look of realization, then complained, “That’s true. You made such a wonderful piece, but just tossed it to me among a pile of scores without saying a word. If it weren’t for Bayi discovering it, who knows how long it would have remained buried.”

The crowd around them finally understood. It turned out this composition was the work of Xiao Siqi’s mysterious creative partner. Both of Xiao Siqi’s most popular songs bore the mark of this collaborator, whose true identity he steadfastly refused to reveal—a matter that had even made entertainment news. Everyone in the circle knew Xiao Siqi’s temperament, so no one bothered to pry further about the partner’s identity or their relationship, just wearing expressions of “so that’s how it is.”

Of course, there was one exception. Sun Zhihao had once guessed during the first episode’s recording that it was Xiao Yao. At that time, Xiao Siqi denied it on camera. But unwilling to be seen as a liar, Xiao Siqi privately told Sun Zhihao that it was indeed Xiao Yao, explaining that Xiao Yao had only contributed a conversation that inspired him and a few bars of melody. Sun Zhihao was the only outsider present who knew this secret. From the father and son’s behavior, he easily deduced the truth: Xiao Yao had composed a complete ocarina piece entirely on his own without Xiao Siqi’s knowledge. It had been less than a year, and the boy’s progress was astonishing. If not for his promise to keep the secret for the two of them, Sun Zhihao would have insisted on clarifying the matter with Xiao Siqi immediately.

With the milking task successfully completed, the father and children finally enjoyed the lavish breakfast prepared by the production team. After breakfast, it was already past nine in the morning. The crew gathered the guests at a small grassy slope to begin the morning’s activity.

Compared to the morning’s hard work, this event was far more enjoyable. The task was to play, engaging in a uniquely prairie pastime—grass sledding.

Grass sledding is similar to sand sledding in the desert or rafting in a park. Participants sit on a smooth-bottomed cart or wooden board and slide down from the top of a slope. Whether on water, sand, or grass, the friction allows for a thrilling ride down to the bottom in one breath, making the entire experience exhilarating.

Xiao Yao had been longing to ride horses on the prairie, and he had tried grass sledding in a scenic spot in his previous life. Although the artificial turf there differed from the natural grass here, the sensation was similar. Moreover, the artificial slope had a steeper incline, which made the ride faster and more thrilling. Hence, he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about this activity.

Though Xiao Yao lacked interest, the others were very excited. Perhaps because they had never tried it before or because there was no competition—just pure fun—the fathers carried wooden boards back and forth from the top to the bottom of the slope with their children, playing joyfully.

They happily played for over an hour, until around eleven when the crew urged everyone to return to their lodgings to prepare for lunch. Reluctantly, everyone headed home with their children.

Since Xiao Siqi and Sun Zhihao’s accommodations were adjacent, the two families naturally returned together. Upon arriving, instead of heading straight to the kitchen in the RV, Sun Zhihao invited Xiao Siqi for a walk.

“A walk? It’s almost lunchtime—what’s the point of a walk now?” Xiao Siqi and the filming crew looked puzzled.

“Well,” Sun Zhihao addressed the filming crew for both families, “Xiao Siqi and I have some sensitive matters to discuss, things not suitable for broadcast. We hope you won’t follow us, and we’ll turn off our microphones for a while.”

Hearing this, Xiao Siqi immediately understood Sun Zhihao’s intention. He beckoned to Xiao Yao, saying, “Bayi, come along.”

“I want to go too!” Sun Tingting, seeing her father and Uncle Xiao taking Xiao Yao for a walk, naturally didn’t want to be left out.

“Dear Duor, you stay in the room for a while; we’ll be back soon,” Sun Zhihao soothed Sun Tingting. Because she was too young, he dared not let her know about Xiao Yao. Though she might not understand, there was a risk she could accidentally spill the secret, which would make his promise to the father and son seem foolish.

“Oh.” Though reluctant, Sun Tingting obediently pouted and agreed.

The three of them slowly walked to an open space and turned off their microphones. Xiao Siqi first spoke to Sun Zhihao, “Brother Sun, I know what you want to ask. I don’t know either. Of course, I want to know, too, so I called him here to explain himself.” Then he turned to Xiao Yao, “Bayi, did you really compose ‘The Original Scenery of My Hometown’? When did you write it? How come I never knew?”

Xiao Yao knew Sun Zhihao already suspected him. Seeing the two had called him aside to a place where the microphones were off, he understood they wanted to talk about this. Since he had shamelessly taken credit for the piece to avoid future copyright issues, he could only continue the charade.

“I made it last night—no, this morning during my morning exercise,” Xiao Yao fabricated. He couldn’t say he had written it earlier. Since Xiao Siqi taught him composition, Xiao Yao had tried composing on his own, whether full pieces or fragments, and always showed them to Xiao Siqi. If this were an old piece, Xiao Siqi would have known. Xiao Yao instinctively wanted to say “last night,” but composing without paper or pen was questionable, though his memory was exceptional, and Xiao Siqi knew this. There was no paper here, but composing silently was nearly impossible. He had gone to bed with Xiao Siqi last night; sneaking out to play the ocarina in the dark was unlikely—if either of the two had light sleep and heard the ocarina, the secret would be exposed. Morning was easier to explain: during his early workout, others were still asleep, and the daylight justified his run. The filming crew hadn’t captured it, which also helped. Since the intense filming of his early morning exercise in episode two, the crew hadn’t followed him in episode three to spare them all the trouble.

As for the creative process or inspiration, such things were hard to explain clearly. Xiao Yao said that after morning exercise, looking out over the endless grassland stirred his emotions, so he took out his ocarina and played. The mood of the piece matched the serene dawn perfectly. Regarding the title’s “hometown,” his explanation was more mystical: the vast prairie gave him a faint sense of familiarity, prompting him to childishly believe he had once lived there in a past life. This nostalgic feeling, he said, was his previous life’s hometown.

Listening to Xiao Yao’s explanation, both Xiao Siqi and Sun Zhihao were somewhat speechless. But their goal was achieved: confirming that the piece was indeed Xiao Yao’s own creation, composed fittingly that very morning on the prairie.

Liu Shanxing approached Chen Min, watching the three from afar, and joked, “Chen Jie, what do you think they’re discussing? Surely not arranging a child marriage?”

Chen Min laughed, patting Liu Shanxing, “People have their secrets; don’t pry where you shouldn’t. Besides, how would I know? You saw Bayi’s behavior yourself—such a kid must have plenty of secrets.”

Having cleared their doubts, the three returned to their lodgings. Facing Sun Tingting’s resentful gaze, Sun Zhihao pretended not to notice and silently prepared lunch for both families. After eating, everyone took their afternoon rest.

At three in the afternoon, the five families were summoned again by a task card. The venue was the camp’s center, with idle herders watching nearby.

Chen Lei announced the task: “This time, we’ll compete against the local herders. The competition has two halves, each featuring a different event. Each event has two rounds—one for the fathers and one for the children. The events are tug-of-war and Mongolian wrestling. The fathers will face five selected local herders in a five-on-five tug-of-war, then each will send two wrestlers for one-on-one matches. The children will likewise compete against five local children of similar age. I wish everyone the best of luck.”

“Tug-of-war might be hopeful, but wrestling? We don’t stand a chance,” the fathers grumbled.

Among the five fathers, Zhao Tao was strong; Zhou Lixing, a world champion, was naturally formidable. They likely had more strength than the average herder. Sun Zhihao’s somewhat plump figure was hard to assess, while Lin Shaohua and Xiao Siqi looked thin and weak. In pure strength contests like tug-of-war, their chances were slim.

As expected, the results were no surprise. Facing five burly local herders, the fathers were visibly disadvantaged and lost the tug-of-war in less than ten seconds.

Next was the children’s tug-of-war. The children’s chances seemed slightly better. Zhao Rui was robust and had martial arts training. Though Xiao Yao looked slender, his previous performance in the private gathering showed his strength rivaled Zhao Rui’s. The chubby Zhou Zhihao, despite being the youngest, was strong from long-term boxing practice. The relatively weaker ones were the artistic Lin Qisan and the girl Sun Tingting. For fairness, the opposing team included a girl as well. But when the five local children appeared, the fathers lost hope. They were all stocky and muscular; aside from Zhao Rui, none could compare physically. The match confirmed their fears: the children lost decisively.

Losing both rounds was embarrassing. With wrestling coming next, grim expressions darkened their faces—they were clearly heading for a shutout.

Wrestling began with the fathers. The representatives were naturally the strongest, Zhao Tao and Zhou Lixing. Despite not being outmatched in strength, the herders’ superior technique meant both lost without contest.

The fathers’ matches were between adults; the competitive spirit was moderate. The herders knew they had an advantage and weren’t overly boastful, keeping the atmosphere lighthearted.

The children’s wrestling was different. The representatives were Zhao Rui and Xiao Yao. Like the fathers, they matched their opponents in strength but lacked technique entirely. Facing two local children who had practiced Mongolian wrestling since childhood, they were quickly defeated. Although Xiao Yao had an adult’s soul and strong learning ability, he had never encountered wrestling in any life. The rules declared victory as soon as one party touched the ground, leaving him helpless.

Losing was one thing—it was just a game unfamiliar to them. But the herder child who wrestled Xiao Yao either truly looked down on these city kids or was provoked by Xiao Yao’s grip, and taunted, “You can’t win a single match—these Han Chinese are useless.”

The fathers felt awkward but couldn’t reprimand a child. Xiao Yao was still a child himself and didn’t care. Already frustrated from losing, the insult struck a nerve, and Xiao Yao’s temper flared.

“Just now we followed your prairie wrestling rules, which none of us knew. What’s there to be proud of in winning? If you’re so confident, let’s wrestle again under our rules!” Xiao Yao shot a rare sharp glare at the boy.