Chapter Fifty-Two: The Whole Audience Watches

"What are you treating me to?" Song Wan Ning asked.

"Whatever you want, I'll treat you."

"Then I'm not going."

"A Western restaurant just opened today, and all customers on their first day get a complimentary bottle of red wine."

As soon as she heard there was wine, Song Wan Ning nodded instinctively.

She was the type who loved food and fun, knowing her tolerance for alcohol was poor, yet she always enjoyed drinking.

Wen Jing Xing, driving, glanced sideways at her. "If someone else invited you for drinks, would you agree so easily?"

Song Wan Ning shook her head. "That depends on who's inviting me. If it's you, Young Master Wen, I'm absolutely at ease!"

She spoke her mind directly, feeling quite happy—after all, she'd spent so much time in Wen Jing Xing's room before.

Moreover, Song Wan Ning knew that when she got drunk, she tended to cause trouble for people, but Wen Jing Xing had never crossed any boundaries. Truly a gentleman!

Little did she know how much of an impact her words had on Wen Jing Xing.

Song Wan Ning said that if he was the one treating her to drinks, she felt safe. Did this mean she trusted him, at least deep down?

If future Song Wan Ning knew she was, step by step, sending herself down this path, she would surely give herself a punch to wake up!

Once they arrived at their destination, Song Wan Ning let Wen Jing Xing go ahead. She still needed to find a suitable spot to set up her stall.

The production team, aiming for authenticity in Song Wan Ning's street vendor experience, only arranged a few discreet cameras at her stall. Even the cameraman had to hide on the second floor nearby, filming Song Wan Ning from a distance.

And the production team didn’t let Song Wan Ning herself off the hook. They equipped her with sunglasses and a black mask—fully disguised. Unless someone knew Song Wan Ning well, almost no one could recognize her.

She had barely set up her stall when a new vendor appeared beside her. She looked closely, and realized it was the same owner who sold her the hat.

She was wearing that very straw hat, though the fresh flowers had wilted and she had plucked them off.

Perhaps Song Wan Ning’s unusual attire drew attention—the owner kept looking at her, glancing repeatedly at her stall.

Uncertain, he took out his phone, tapped something, then suddenly pointed excitedly at Song Wan Ning, his mouth forming an O. "You, you, you! You’re—"

But just then, several men with fierce looks and muscular builds stepped up to Song Wan Ning’s stall.

Song Wan Ning was busy setting up—her assigned role this time was a vendor making hand-grab pancakes, and she was arranging boxes of ingredients on the table.

Suddenly, the sunlight vanished, her small stall plunged into shadow.

Song Wan Ning looked up curiously to see several men crowding the stall. She thought, perhaps her stall was promising—business before she’d even opened.

Though her face was fully covered, her tone carried a smile, unmistakably cheerful to any normal person.

"Gentlemen, would you like pancakes? What toppings do you want? The price list is right—"

Before she could finish, one of the men abruptly reached out to interrupt her.

A thick, muscular arm appeared before her, veins bulging, fingers spread, as if demanding something from Song Wan Ning.

"Gentlemen, you need to pay first, then I can make the pancakes for you," Song Wan Ning said politely.

The hat seller finally couldn’t hold back and whispered a warning to Song Wan Ning: "These men are here for money. They’re notorious thugs in this area. Whenever new faces set up stalls, they collect protection fees."

He spoke so earnestly, not noticing that the men’s expressions were growing darker with each word.

The distance between them was minimal—if Song Wan Ning could hear, so could the thugs.

In the livestream, viewers all looked worried.

[Oh my god, this looks really dangerous! What can Song Wan Ning, a lone woman, do?]

[Why are you worried? It's a variety show recording—maybe it's just part of the plot to stir the audience.]

[But what if it's not fake?]

[Surely the production team isn’t that careless? Didn’t they investigate before filming here?]

[Director, director, come out and tell us—is this real or not!?]

[This kind of thing is nothing to joke about!]

[Song Wan Ning is so unlucky—yesterday she met bad people, now thugs.]

[Isn’t it because she’s too flamboyant? There are plenty of people who don’t like her.]

[Are you out of your mind? Song Wan Ning is so well covered, who could recognize her?]

Elsewhere, Li Weiwei, who had just received the news, sprang to her feet in shock.

She’d only just noticed Wen Jing Xing’s attitude toward Song Wan Ning this morning and wanted to help them along, and now something like this happened!?

If anything happened, how could she possibly explain to Wen Jing Xing afterward!

Perhaps because it was Wen family territory, Li Weiwei hadn’t expected any trouble, and so there were very few people accompanying Song Wan Ning—really just the cameraman.

She hurriedly called over, told someone to inform Wen Jing Xing at once, sent friends to support Song Wan Ning, dispatched several strong staff members, and rushed over herself.

Afraid she’d be too late, worried that Song Wan Ning might get into trouble.

Meanwhile, the cameraman upstairs, daydreaming about Song Wan Ning’s career, saw the situation go awry and rushed over even without his shoes.

Wasn’t this his favorite couple? Wasn’t Song Auntie his favorite ship? How could he let Miss Song fall into danger before his eyes a second time?

There were plenty of people walking along the beach, many witnessing what was happening at Song Wan Ning’s stall, yet not one stepped forward to help.

For bystanders, it was better to mind their own business—they didn’t want trouble.

Suddenly, one of the thugs pulled a large iron bar from a cloth sack, and smashed it hard onto the vendor's display table, denting it deeply!

The hat seller was frightened on the spot, trembling as he pulled out his phone to call the police, but the thug threatened him: "Did you forget the protection fee you paid? If you weren’t so honest, I’d come collect from you every day!"

He called the vendor honest, but in reality, the vendor had paid an annual protection fee.

Song Wan Ning raised an eyebrow and glanced at the vendor—he was quite brave, risking so much to warn her.

She thought for a moment, then suddenly snorted coldly, her tone turning sharp and contemptuous: "I thought you’d be more impressive, but this is all you can do?"

She pointed at the hole in the table, then quietly raised her middle finger.

It was a mocking gesture she’d learned from Wen Jing Xing’s computer that night. She’d thought it was pretty cool—modern people were interesting!

And now, at last, she had a chance to use it!