Chapter Forty-Five: Another XY

After the families dispersed, Zhihao Sun didn’t bring up the topic of formal family alliances again, seemingly confirming Xiaoyao’s suspicion that the serious discussion among the fathers earlier was merely a jest. Nevertheless, Zhihao still parked his RV beside the humble yurt of Siqi Xiao and his father, becoming their neighbor.

At noon, Zhihao cooked several vegetable dishes in the RV’s modest but modern kitchen. Since the kitchen was too small to accommodate two people cooking simultaneously, and because Siqi’s family had provided enough steamed buns and meat pies for both families as the main staples, Zhihao was spared the trouble of preparing the main course. Content with this arrangement, Siqi happily enjoyed the meal without lifting a finger.

After lunch, as usual, everyone took a brief rest. With the afternoon assembly scheduled for three o’clock—a relatively late hour—there was still time for some free activities following the nap. Siqi and Zhihao, each with their child, strolled together nearby, soaking in the breathtaking scenery and vast grandeur of the grasslands. The only disappointment was that neither Siqi nor Zhihao could ride horses, and the program had not arranged for local herders to accompany them. Thus, their wish to gallop across the plains on horseback remained unfulfilled.

At three in the afternoon, everyone promptly gathered at the meeting point. Lei Chen then announced the afternoon’s activity: herding sheep.

Of course, this did not mean chasing the free-ranging sheep scattered across the grasslands—that would have been far too difficult. Their task was to catch sheep inside a pen.

The production team had chosen a local herder’s sheepfold, where the group’s assignment was to catch and subdue each of the twenty-some sheep one by one, so that professional veterinarians could administer vaccinations.

This task was to be completed jointly by the fathers and their children, but separately. “Jointly” meant that both fathers and children would take turns catching sheep from the pen, with fathers responsible for two-thirds and children for one-third. “Separately” meant that fathers would enter the pen first while the children watched from outside; once the fathers finished, the children would enter and the fathers would step outside to watch. Only five people were allowed in the pen at a time during each phase.

None of the adults or children had any experience with this, so even Xiaoyao’s usual brilliance couldn’t help much. Whether adults or kids, it was chaos—sheep scattering everywhere as everyone scrambled to grab them. Fortunately, with many hands and limited space in the pen, they managed to corner the sheep. After over an hour of hard work, the group of ten split into two shifts and successfully caught and vaccinated all the sheep in the pen.

By the end of the sheep-catching, all ten were covered in dust and dirt. After completing the task, it was only natural for everyone to return and freshen up. The local minority herders were hospitable folk; such a rare visit from so many celebrities deserved a warm reception. Thus, the fathers were spared the trouble of cooking dinner that evening. The herders prepared mouthwatering ethnic specialties, including a whole roasted lamb, allowing everyone to relax and feast.

Though autumn still lingered in many inland regions, the weather on the northwestern grasslands had already turned quite chilly, especially at night. When the guests arrived at the dinner gathering around six in the evening, the sky was still bright but several bonfires were already lit.

The golden roasted lamb, sizzling with juices, whetted everyone’s appetite. Besides the lamb, the herders also brought various barbecue ingredients and utensils, letting the guests enjoy the thrill of grilling lamb skewers on the grassland.

After everyone was sated, the guests were delighted to discover that the herders hadn’t just prepared food but also arranged a traditional Mongolian dance performance. Though not at the scale of the Nadam Festival, it was nonetheless a lively, spirited bonfire party.

Amid the festivities, the production team cleverly orchestrated some small interactive segments, such as having a local herder perform a dance for the children to guess which animals were being imitated.

On the grassland, the favorite animal movements fell into two categories: wolves and eagles. Wolf motions were difficult to incorporate into dance, but wing-flapping gestures were common. Han Chinese dances featured soft, flowing arm movements representing various birds, while Mongolian dances were more vigorous, naturally embodying the eagle.

Xiaoyao had guessed this before the herders’ performance but preferred to keep a low profile, quietly enjoying his lamb skewers on the sidelines. Only when the entire group gathered around the bonfire to dance at the end did he reluctantly set down his food and join in with some spirited kicks.

The next morning, the production team roused the five families early for the day’s first task. Previously, morning tasks mostly involved competing for breakfast, but this time it was about breakfast, yet not a contest. Like the sheep-catching the day before, the families had to cooperate to complete the task, or else there would be no meal.

The morning’s challenge was milking cows. None of them had any experience with this. Even the five fathers had seen cows only a handful of times in their lives, let alone milked one.

As usual, professional milkers demonstrated the process before the fathers and children took their turns. Most cows were docile and unlike bulls that might gore with their horns. However, their large size meant even a casual backward kick could be dangerous.

Everyone was cautious, trying to milk gently and correctly. With many professionals supervising, no one was kicked. Yet, since none had mastered the technique fully, the buckets placed under the cows were overturned several times. The task was tough overall. It took nearly an hour for the five families, working in relay, to fill the program’s required quota of one full container of milk. Physically not too demanding, the intense concentration made everyone feel quite exhausted afterward.

Because the program didn’t require everyone to milk, Xiaoyao, uninterested in the cow’s milking parts, didn’t participate. Instead, he helped soothe the cows while others milked.

While most people petted the cows to calm them, Xiaoyao took out an ocarina from his pocket and began playing music.

He had dabbled in the ocarina back in his previous life, but had given up due to poor breath control, finger dexterity, and rhythm. Still, he remembered the basic fingerings and scales, along with some well-known pieces. The ocarina he held was a souvenir he had bought earlier with Chengru Xiao while traveling between film sets. Thanks to over a year of professional piano training and martial arts practice improving his breathing and finger agility, his playing now surpassed even his twenties’ skill level. The only difference was that due to his age and physical condition, he could no longer comfortably hold the submarine-shaped twelve-hole ocarina; instead, he played a smaller, more manageable six-hole version.

Everyone was used to Xiaoyao’s musical talents by now. After all, he had once pulled off an erhu piece after just over an hour of crash training. Playing the ocarina was no big deal. What puzzled them was that the tune he played was unfamiliar to all.

Xiaoyao was performing a classic Japanese ocarina piece by the master Sojiro, titled “Scenery of My Hometown.” The melody was beautiful and profound, often used as background music in films and widely recognized. Among ocarina enthusiasts, this piece held a status comparable to “Hotel California” among guitar lovers—a must-learn classic. But in this life, without Sojiro, the piece didn’t exist. By the time Xiaoyao realized this, he had already finished playing it in full.

“Scenery of My Hometown” was a classic ocarina piece whose imagery was closely tied to natural landscapes. Standing on the grassland, Xiaoyao naturally thought of this as the first piece to play. The serene Zen-like quality of the melody perfectly soothed the cows, making the milking process much smoother.

Indeed, the cows calmed down, but the people around did not. Such a beautiful, unfamiliar melody immediately drew everyone’s attention to Siqi Xiao.

Siqi understood their curiosity. To be honest, he was quite surprised himself. Since Xiaoyao had helped him complete two songs, “The Most Beautiful” and “Missing You at Night,” Siqi had tried to nurture his son’s occasional musical inspiration and had even taught him some composition basics. Though he had long believed his son was a prodigy, seeing Xiaoyao independently produce such an outstanding pure instrumental ocarina piece within just one year still amazed him.

“Bayi, what’s the name of that song? Where did you learn it?” Siqi’s question, reading the crowd’s minds, also made clear to everyone that he was not the composer.

When Xiaoyao played, he was fully immersed in the piece’s mood. Upon finishing and meeting everyone’s strange gazes, he realized trouble was brewing. He had brought out the ocarina intending to keep his musical aura attributed to his father, since everyone knew his musical skills were only possible thanks to Siqi’s training. What he forgot was that this classic piece didn’t exist in this life, and Siqi would never claim credit for a composition he didn’t write.

Moreover, Siqi’s question openly confirmed the piece wasn’t his, so Xiaoyao could no longer attribute the work to his father even if he wanted to.

His first instinct was to invent an unknown folk master like in his previous life. But that was a trope for protagonists transported to ancient times, where mysterious geniuses were worshiped because no one could find them. In today’s internet era, such a brilliant piece would surely become viral in the pure instrumental community and have lucrative potential as film background music. If Xiaoyao admitted ignorance about the composer on the show, unscrupulous opportunists would rush to claim authorship by tomorrow. Would he then have to fight endless legal battles? The thought was exhausting. Xiaoyao preferred to avoid such early supernatural favors, but to spare the opportunists, he decided to be shameless himself.

“I found it among a pile of sheet music in your home music room. The piece is called ‘Scenery of My Hometown,’ and I think the composer was…” Fortunately, he had a little-known alias he could use, allowing him to explain things to his father while avoiding a flood of claims.

Thus, the evening ended with a delicate balance of musical mystery and familial understanding.