"Brilliant. Truly brilliant," said Da Jun, as if something had just occurred to him.
Last night, he'd woken suddenly in the middle of the night, pale and breathless. A nightmare, clearly. This morning, as usual, he reviewed the overnight footage. That was when he saw it.
Mental illness. Most geniuses had some form of it. And now Da Jun understood something else.
"Da Jun, what's wrong with you?" asked Lao Zhan, puzzled.
"Lao Zhan, yesterday, was Teacher Chu working on the farm all day?" Da Jun asked.
"Yeah." Lao Zhan nodded. "That's right."
Then that was it. That confirmed it.
Without another word, Da Jun pulled out his phone and called a friend. The response matched his suspicion exactly.
He took off running, leaving Lao Zhan standing there, completely confused.
To the back-left of the Mushroom House sat an ordinary-looking little building. It had been rented separately by the production team as accommodation for the behind-the-scenes crew. Right now, the producers and artistic director were gathered there, deep in discussion.
There were three producers of Back to the Countryside: Lan Wuyi, Kun Yun, and Luo Xunyuan. The first two had been brought on starting from season two because of their critical roles, while Luo Xunyuan represented Mango TV and also served as the show's chief director.
"Producer Luo, please take a look at this." Da Jun pulled out the footage from last night. It showed Chu Zhi waking in terror from a nightmare. He laid out his reasoning. "Teacher Chu's depression is really serious. Aside from the nightmare, he worked in the fields all day under intense conditions. Even when Da Kong was groaning in pain, Teacher Chu showed no signs of discomfort at all," Da Jun explained.
"I asked a friend of mine who has depression. Even severe depression doesn't dull physical pain. On the contrary, negative emotions increase activity in the amygdala, which heightens pain perception. People with severe depression are actually more sensitive to pain."
"Really?" Luo Xunyuan's impression had been quite the opposite.
And he wasn't alone. Most people who didn't understand depression—including the artistic director and casting coordinator—assumed it dulled pain. After all, didn't people with depression often self-harm? Knives, blunt objects… If they were more sensitive to pain, wouldn't that hurt too much?
"My friend has struggled with depression for over seven years," said Da Jun confidently. "The only reason Teacher Chu didn't react is because he was holding it in for the camera."
Holding back in front of the camera. Not milking sympathy. Just enduring it silently. Luo Xunyuan frowned, deep in thought.
"Give me a moment," he said. He still wanted to be certain.
He called a doctor. Not a psychiatrist, but someone knowledgeable. The doctor confirmed: even severe depression, even with organic brain changes, would not numb pain. In fact, with impaired serotonin and norepinephrine systems, patients could experience somatic pain symptoms like headaches, chest pain, joint pain, or stomach pain. Especially headaches—over half of all depression sufferers experienced them.
"If the person you're talking about truly has severe depression, it's impossible that they wouldn't feel pain. The human pain threshold has limits. Just enduring it isn't enough. I believe the more likely explanation is… he's gotten used to it."
Luo Xunyuan hung up. He was over forty now, well beyond the age of idol-worship. Even so, when he heard the doctor say he's gotten used to it, his chest tightened.
"Producer Luo, what I mean is, we should include all this in the edit," said Da Jun. "Let the fans see just how much pain Teacher Chu is enduring."
What did Chu Zhi's suffering have to do with Da Jun? He wasn't one of the Little Fruits. What the public loved most was either creating gods or tearing them down. And if neither of those was possible, then watching a god suffer was the next best thing. Da Jun's suggestion was purely for the ratings.
The footage would be included, no question. But they had to inform the artist first. Chu Zhi's stature was such that even Mango TV wouldn't want to offend him.
"Director, I have an idea," said the artistic director suddenly. "Why don't we make the next episode's theme about caring for those with depression? Invite a celebrity who has struggled with it. Build a whole episode around it."
It was a trash idea. But somehow, it was the kind of trash that piqued curiosity. Luo Xunyuan gestured for him to go on.
"First of all, Teacher Chu is known for his good nature. Remember how he covered for Da Kong and Xiao Mei, taking on more work to finish the melon fields? If the theme is caring for depression, I'm sure he'd cooperate."
He continued analyzing, step by step. "Second, the idea doesn't deviate too far from our core concept. The Mushroom House is about yearning for life. Letting a depressed celebrity relax in that environment fits perfectly. Viewership would be strong."
Clever little devil. Luo Xunyuan was swayed. If they handled it right, it could generate a lot of interest.
"So who would be the celebrity struggling with depression?" Luo Xunyuan asked.
"What about Lin Mang?" the artistic director suggested.
He barely finished speaking when the casting coordinator immediately shot it down. "Lin Mang has attempted suicide twice. Both incidents were huge scandals. Do you really think he's a safe choice?"
The artistic director paused. On second thought, he had a point. Whether the suicide attempts were genuine or for publicity, it was still risky. Back to the Countryside was a slow-paced variety show. That rule couldn't be broken.
In the entertainment industry, many celebrities claimed to suffer from mental illness. Every time there was a scandal, someone would cry mental health issues. Who could tell what was real and what was an act? The room fell silent.
Then Da Jun suggested, "What about Ban Ke?"
Ban Ke? The name was unfamiliar, but it rang a bell somehow.
"She played Ruan Lingyu in Human Words Can Kill," Da Jun said. "Won Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival at age 21. She's the second-youngest winner in the festival's history."
Ah, that Ban Ke. Everyone remembered her.
Normally, winning such a prestigious international award at such a young age would ensure a smooth ride in the industry, assuming no major missteps. But Ban Ke was an exception. She was ruled by emotion, especially in love.
At 21, she won the Venice award. Not long after, she married an unknown writer. Ban Ke claimed she was drawn to his talent. At 23, she retired to raise their twin children.
To support the family, Ban Ke returned to the industry at 25. But the entertainment world was harsh. A two-year absence was enough to dim her star. Even with her past accolades, no big production wanted her.
Her depression began after a tragic event. While filming on location, her husband had an affair. Their two-year-old son fell ill with a high fever. By the time Ban Ke rushed home and took him to the hospital, it was too late.
She sued the writer in court, but the charges didn't stick. No matter how you looked at it, it didn't qualify as murder or even negligent manslaughter.
Ban Ke divorced him, took full custody of her daughter, and began raising her alone while returning to acting and variety shows. But her moderate depression made things difficult. Her focus faltered, memory worsened. She couldn't remember scripts. On variety shows, she'd zone out. Her fame waned. Most had forgotten about her.
"Ban Ke could work," said the casting coordinator. "She'll probably accept. And she's not shy about discussing her mental health."
There was another unspoken point. Ban Ke was affordable now.
"Her popularity has dipped, but her name still carries weight. A former Venice Best Actress," the artistic director agreed.
Luo Xunyuan didn't give a final answer. A decision this big couldn't be made alone.
After discussing both the theme and the guest, Luo Xunyuan brought the idea to the other two producers, Lan Wuyi and Kun Yun.
After watching the footage of the nightmare and hearing the theory that Chu Zhi had simply gotten used to pain, both men fell silent for a long time.
"Come to the Mushroom House, let depression fade away." Kun Yun liked the theme. "But will this hurt A Jiu?"
"Moderate depression is far less severe than the heavy kind," Luo Xunyuan replied. "Ban Ke might actually be able to comfort Teacher Chu."
That was true. People who'd been sick long enough often became their own doctors. Ban Ke, with her moderate depression, might have found ways to cope. If she could guide Chu Zhi even a little, maybe it wouldn't feel so heavy. Kun Yun mulled it over.
"I agree. I'll talk to Xiao Jiu myself," said Lan Wuyi. He was being unusually proactive. It was because he'd heard about the deaths of Chu Zhi's grandfather and two martyrs in his family from Kun Yun. He felt sympathy for Chu Zhi.
It was that sympathy that drove Lan Wuyi's simple thought. He wanted more people to understand just how serious Chu Zhi's condition was. That way, if he ever made a mistake, people might not crucify him for it.
Everything was decided. Tomorrow, they would invite Ban Ke for an episode titled Let Depression Fade Away.
The number of guests on Mushroom House had never been fixed. In past seasons, they'd even invited four or five at once. So bringing in one more wasn't unusual.
Next week, they would complete the task assigned by the network. Step by step, they'd start revealing Chu Zhi's background.