Chapter Three: Why Do I Feel Like Her Knife Skills Are Excellent!?

Song Waning took a deep breath and asked, “Sir, what shape should the landscaping be? Are there any requirements?”

The greenbelt was lined with clusters of grass, their round leaves lush and vibrant, so dense that not even the stems could be seen. Purple flowers bloomed everywhere.

The old man replied, “It’s simple. Just trim both strips of greenery down to your waist height, make them neat and square. Later, a professional gardener will come for the finishing touches.”

The production team understood what kind of backgrounds these guests came from—they could hardly expect them to do much of a job.

So when deciding on the tasks, they usually made them easy to handle, but tiring and dirty.

Hearing how straightforward the requirements were, Song Waning let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, I understand.”

Having explained everything, the old man left.

After a while, he returned, pushing a toolbox. “These are the tools you’ll need. Choose whichever suits you.”

Song Waning glanced through the box and finally picked out a large machete.

The old man’s expression was a bit surprised. “Are you unfamiliar with this work? For a beginner, it’s better to use large scissors—they’re easier to handle.”

“No need, I’m better with this.”

The old man stared at the delicate-looking girl before him, then at the machete in her hand, his eyes widening with disbelief. “Are you… sure?”

The viewers in the livestream were equally astonished.

“She’s lost her mind, hasn’t she? No matter how clueless, how can you use a machete to trim plants?”

“She’s always had everything handed to her, what could she possibly know? Ridiculous.”

“Yes, sir, you can leave this area to me,” Song Waning declared confidently.

The old man was filled with misgivings—but it was the guest’s choice, and he had no right to interfere. Sighing helplessly, he shook his head and walked away.

Song Waning examined the machete in her hand, over a foot long, sharpened on just one side, clearly not used much—the blade was still new.

She walked to the greenbelt, raised the machete, and swung it down. Leaves and purple flowers fell in a shower, and the tangled branches that would normally require painstaking cuts instantly became a neat, flat surface.

“Wait, the machete actually works?”

“No way. Those branches are so soft—how did she cut through them with one swing?”

“Even if she can chop them, the greenbelt is so long—how could she possibly make it all neat and tidy?”

“Exactly. Maybe she just got lucky with the first swing.”

“She’s definitely being lazy, doesn’t want to use scissors, so she’s hacking away with a machete.”

“What’s the rush? We’ll know once she’s finished trimming.”

“...Why do I feel like her blade technique is actually really good?!”

Even the cameraman following her was left gaping in shock.

But the first livestream of the day was already over, and he hurriedly closed the stream.

Leaving behind a baffled crowd of viewers.

“Just when we were about to see the answer, the time’s up?!”

“Director! Director! We want longer live broadcasts!”

“No rush, the full episode will be out in a few days. Let’s just wait and see.”

“With women like her, don’t get your hopes up.”

Even though the stream had gone dark, many viewers lingered in the chat, mocking Song Waning.

At that moment, a trending topic shot to the top of Weibo: #IgnorantSongWaningHackingFlowersWithAMachete#, ranking fifth.

Clicking in, one would see a post from a veteran media account.

“WaitingForWenToBreakOffEngagementV: Hot off the press! Spoiled and clueless Song Waning hacks innocent flowers with a machete! Details in the video below. We’re one step closer to the breakup! Today is day two of waiting.”

Scrolling down, the post had thirty thousand likes and thousands of comments.

The comment section was filled with calls for Young Master Wen to break off the engagement soon.

Elsewhere, at Rong City Airport.

Cheng Mu stood by the car waiting for someone. When he spotted the tall, elegant figure in black among the crowd, he immediately went forward.

“Boss, please,” he said, opening the car door. He waited for the man to get in before taking the driver’s seat himself.

Thinking of the trending topic he’d just seen, Cheng Mu hesitated, gripping the steering wheel tightly, unsure how to bring it up.

“Is something the matter?” Wen Jingxing looked up at him.

“Well… Boss, it’s better if you see for yourself.” Cheng Mu handed him his phone.

Wen Jingxing took it and stared at the screen for a while, saying nothing, his brows deeply furrowed.

Cheng Mu ventured, “Should I have someone remove the trending topic?”

“No need.”

Wen Jingxing’s eyes were dark, his lips pressed into a thin line, revealing no emotion.

“But she’s your fiancée. Shouldn’t you do something…”

“From now on, if there’s any trending topic about her, don’t ask me. When this variety show ends, I’ll approach the Song family to break off the engagement.”

Wen Jingxing hadn’t wanted to join the show; it was only because his grandfather and Song Waning’s grandfather were old friends, and had arranged their engagement when they were children.

Now Song’s grandfather had passed away, and his own grandfather was eager to see them together, even signing them up for a dating show, saying young people could develop feelings if they didn’t have any.

He’d gone on about it for so long it gave Wen Jingxing a headache. Finally, his grandfather threatened to fast, saying if he didn’t find someone soon, when would he ever? Wen Jingxing reluctantly agreed.

Now, it seemed the Song family’s young lady really didn’t have much character.

Cheng Mu said, “Yes, sir. I’ll take you to the company first, then to the resort.”

“Very well.”

...

It was soon noon. The sun hung high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, the scorching rays burning the flesh.

The old man carried a broom, intending to sweep up the branches Song Waning had cut.

When he arrived, he was stunned.

The greenbelt that had been messy in the morning was now impeccably trimmed, with no trace of human intervention.

Even the fallen leaves had been swept up and piled neatly to one side.

As for Song Waning herself, she held a long hose, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat, watering the plants.

“Sir, you’re just in time—I’m almost done. Is my work acceptable?” Song Waning turned and called out to him.

The old man nodded furiously in disbelief. “Acceptable? This isn’t just good—it’s absolutely perfect!”

“You flatter me, sir. There are still some imperfections.”

“You child, who would have thought you were so capable? How did you manage it so quickly?”

“I told you, I’m skilled with blades.” Song Waning smiled, speaking the truth, though the old man assumed she was being modest.

To wield a machete as deftly as a sword requires inner strength.

But since Song Waning had crossed over to this world, all her inner power was gone.

Inner strength isn’t brute force—it’s finesse.

So even without inner power, Song Waning could wield a machete with astonishing skill.

Even the cameraman, who at first had only been watching the show, kept asking Song Waning later if she could teach him how to use a blade.

He thought it was cool.

But Song Waning refused him coldly.

The old man said, “Since you’ve completed your task so well, come with me.”