The Martial Artist Turned Movie Mogul-Chapter 983 - 982. Tang Village

"After all, she’s introducing her hometown’s tourist spots. Can’t blame her; there’s really nothing to livestream on the bus. That area is super desolate."

"I ordered some wild mushrooms this morning, and the ones in the link looked pretty good. But why does this place seem kind of familiar?"

"It’s starting... wait, hold on... where is this?"

"What the heck? This place is even more desolate than this morning! She’s gone back to a village again, huh!"

The familiar rustic scenery quickly reminded viewers of the mountain guide’s village from the morning. But when Tang Shu casually strolled along and said "my home," the livestream exploded instantly.

"Your... your home?!"

"No way! Is this reality TV finally back on track? The camera’s finally showing Tang Shu herself!"

"Isn’t the main point what Tang Shu’s home looks like? Why are you all so off-topic, audience members!"

"Wowowow~ I gotta say, this place is really... um, pretty backward, huh?"

"She mentioned before she’s from Yi City, so I thought she lived in the city. What’s going on now?"

"Isn’t it obvious? Tang Shu grew up in the town or the village. The setting in the video feels way too familiar—looks exactly like my home!"

The audience went wild, excited as if they’d uncovered some major gossip, sharing the news far and wide.

Tang Shu, the actress who’s more glamorous than most and often plays high-society roles, turns out to probably be from the countryside—a straight-up village girl! What a shocker!

As soon as the livestream started, it drew in countless viewers, with the numbers still climbing rapidly.

The photographer, lugging his equipment step by step, sometimes followed behind Tang Shu and sometimes walked beside her. He looked calm on the outside, but inside, his mind was already screaming "WTF."

Damn it! This guest is seriously something else!

He was so naive, so naive. He actually thought that after touring the tourist spots, nothing big would happen. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect the guest to take him straight to a village, not even bothering to hide it!

Are all the actors at Starshine Media this straightforward? Couldn’t you at least rent a house to fake it? Image, image—don’t you want to protect it at all?

Sure, being from the countryside isn’t anything shameful, but this kind of thing is just begging for tabloid rumors. And some entertainment writers love typing up wild narratives—what if someone accuses you of being unfit to play prestigious roles?

Tang Shu, walking ahead, was completely oblivious to his concerns. She led him through the small town, past a stone marking its name, and onto a winding mountain path.

Wait a minute—mountain path?!

The photographer nearly tripped and fell.

The livestream’s comment section erupted into a frenzy.

"What’s going on? Why is it getting more and more remote?"

"Wasn’t that small town supposed to be Tang Shu’s home? Why are we still going forward? There’s nothing but wilderness ahead!"

"Wait, are we really going to her house? Or are we on some kind of scenic hike to pick wild mushrooms?"

"I’m so confused, girls. Anyone care to explain?"

Nobody stepped up to clarify. The photographer, trying his best to maintain professional composure, quietly stayed in the background. Tang Shu, never much of a talker, had clammed up completely now that there were no scenic spots to visit or products to promote. "Not talkative" might as well have been plastered on her forehead.

The livestream went eerily quiet, broken only by the occasional sound of snapping twigs or distant bird calls. It was peaceful... almost unnervingly so.

Of course, this didn’t last long. After twenty minutes of climbing, the out-of-shape photographer’s breathing became increasingly labored, and the camera angle turned into an unsteady view of Tang Shu’s back.

The heavy puffing sounds soon echoed in the livestream, prompting a wave of teasing comments.

"Dying of laughter—our photographer is totally wiped but still has to smile and keep going. Hahaha!"

"Even a trained photographer can’t keep up. Just how far away is Tang Shu’s house? Are we sure she’s not just taking us on a hike for fun?"

"Miss Tang in front, could you slow down a bit? We’ve been glued to this livestream for almost half an hour now, and yet here you are with your huge backpack, still full of energy!"

"No way Tang Shu’s stamina is this good. That bulging backpack of hers must be stuffed with cotton. Right? RIGHT?"

Finally, the camera caught Tang Shu slowing her pace. Occasionally, she turned back to check on her one and only companion.

"Tired? Want to take a break?"

The photographer finally spoke, gasping, "Tang... Miss Tang, how... how much further?"

"At this pace, probably another 20 minutes. The path isn’t long, just a bit tricky to walk."

"..."

The photographer desperately wanted to argue, *This isn’t even a path! We’re literally climbing a mountain, in its purest, most literal sense!*

"I can keep going... Maybe we could slow down a bit?"

"Alright, if you say so."

Tang Shu took a few steps back and grabbed the black equipment bag from his hands. "Here, I’ll carry this for you. You just focus on filming. Or maybe save the shooting for when we get to my home?"

"No, no, filming now is fine. This is a livestream, after all."

The photographer didn’t even know if he should accept her help or protest the continued live broadcast. Miserably, he handed over the black bag.

Twenty minutes isn’t a long time in theory. By the time they finally spotted the outline of gray buildings, the number of viewers in the livestream had surpassed five million.

Most of them were Tang Shu’s longtime fans, filling the comment section with the phrase "Big Uncle," loudly proclaiming their presence. The original viewers from the program team only made up a small fraction.

"We’re here. This is my home. It’s a bit secluded, but the air here is amazing—you’ll love it."

There wasn’t an ounce of arrogance in Tang Shu’s tone; she was merely stating the truth. Situated on the mountainside, Tang Village enjoyed fresh air all year round—a stark improvement over the smog-filled capital city.

The photographer breathed a sigh of relief. As they neared the village, the vague silhouettes of structures gradually came into focus.

On the small vertical screen of the livestream, a cluster of ancient gray buildings appeared—seemingly wooden, exuding a heavy sense of history. One house led seamlessly to the next, arranged at varying heights across the frame.

"Holy sh*t? What is this place?"

"Is this some kind of tourist attraction? There’s so much of it—I can’t even see where it ends. Why does it look so ancient?"

"Wait, what’s happening? Why does this make no sense to me? Am I an idiot...?"

"This place is so damn retro. I think I see a gate? The frontmost pillars—are those the gate? And does that even have a plaque on it?"

"Closer, closer! What’s written on it? Zoom in, photographer dude!"

The photographer was utterly shocked, far more than anyone else. After all, he could see it more clearly than anyone—a massive cluster of buildings had indeed materialized halfway up the mountain.

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