Stop it, the country really can't fit any more bans on the domestic entertainment industry.

Although the aroma of food hadn't yet wafted out from the gazebo of the Mushroom House, the cozy atmosphere was already palpable.

Teacher Huang had just taken a quick look at the slightly loose window frame and was thinking about how to fix it when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

When I took it out and looked at it, the caller ID showed: [Yang Mi].

Teacher Huang raised an eyebrow, and that sly smile reappeared on his lips.

"He's already losing his composure? It seems Boss Yang really cares about his nephew."

With that thought in mind, he answered the phone.

"Hey, Mr. Yang, what brings you to call me, you busy man?" Teacher Huang teased familiarly.

On the other end of the phone, Yang Mi's voice carried a hint of laughter and a touch of probing: "Teacher Huang, look at what you're saying. I just saw the trending topics and was thinking about Mo An, so I didn't want to cause you any trouble."

"Troublesome? Not at all!"

Teacher Huang glanced at Li Mo'an, who was resting on a small stool not far away, and said meaningfully, "Your nephew has really given us a big surprise. That treasure-hunting drama just now is generating quite a bit of buzz."

Yang Mi paused for a moment on the other end of the phone.

She actually wanted to sound out whether the bomb-digging scenario was arranged by the show's director, Wang Yuzheng.

But judging from Teacher Huang's tone, it seems like there's something more to it.

"Teacher Huang, as long as the show is entertaining, that's all that matters," Yang Mi chimed in. "This kid is honest; he'll do whatever you ask him to do. And these props... they're quite realistic, aren't they?"

The props were arranged so realistically that, to Teacher Huang, it was tantamount to an admission.

"As expected of Boss Yang's work."

Teacher Huang was certain of his decision.

He was right. Director Wang Yuzheng may be a bit clever, but he definitely doesn't have the guts to use so many realistic-looking weapons as props. Without strong connections and financial resources, it would be impossible to get such lifelike items.

It seems that Yang Mi has gone to great lengths to promote her nephew.

Since the other party has already set up the stage, it would be too disrespectful for him, as the senior, not to go up and sing a few lines.

Besides, there was a slight awkwardness between him and Yang Mi yesterday because of that plate of braised pork intestines. Now he could take this opportunity to turn the page and do Boss Yang a favor.

Thinking of this, Teacher Huang's smile became even brighter.

"Don't worry, Mr. Yang."

Speaking into the phone, and also into the camera, Teacher Huang said in a relaxed tone, "We've known each other for so many years, and Mo'an has the potential to become famous, so I'll definitely cooperate with him. Now that the stage is set, shouldn't we put on a great show?"

"Thank you so much, Teacher Huang. I'll treat you to dinner another day." Yang Mi breathed a sigh of relief, completely at ease.

Since Teacher Huang said it was all about cooperating and setting up the stage, then this is definitely a confirmed script.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries and then hung up the phone.

At this moment, Teacher Huang was in a great mood.

He turned around and saw Peng Peng squatting on the ground, holding the tail tube of the mortar shell, idly spinning it around like a pen.

Originally, when Peng Peng brought this thing back, Teacher Huang's heart skipped a beat.

After all, the rust and the shape did look rather intimidating.

But now, with Yang Mi's endorsement over the phone, Teacher Huang's last bit of doubt has vanished.

"This prop team is really skilled."

He walked over and took the metal lump from Peng Peng's hand.

It feels heavy when you pick it up.

"Wow, that's a generous portion."

Teacher Huang weighed it in her hand, even more satisfied. "The texture of this cast iron is amazing. Pengpeng, didn't you just say the window was loose? Did you find the nail?"

"Found it, it was on the windowsill." Pengpeng stood up and clapped his hands.

"Okay, let's get started."

Teacher Huang held the Type 97 mortar shell as if it were a newly bought claw hammer, and strode over to the slightly shaky wooden window frame.

At this moment, the camera in the live stream immediately followed, giving Teacher Huang and the hammer in his hand a close-up.

Li Mo'an followed and stood a few meters away, watching the scene calmly.

He had just done the calculations in his mind again.

Teacher Huang's arm strength is within the range of a normal adult male. The wood of this window frame is relatively soft, and the nails are not too long.

Under normal force application, 99% of the shockwave generated by such an impact would be absorbed by the cast iron layer of the projectile's outer shell, and the energy transmitted to the internal fuse would be negligible.

Safety rating: 5 stars.

So he didn't say anything to stop it, but just watched quietly, like a responsible safety officer.

"Come on, everyone, watch carefully."

Facing the camera, Teacher Huang displayed the kind of performance desire typical of a seasoned variety show veteran.

If we're going to interact and create fun, then we have to make it interesting.

He held a long nail in his left hand and pressed it against the loose part of the window frame.

He raised the menacing-looking mortar shell high in his right hand.

The round, thick head of the shell was aimed directly at the small nail.

"Let's jump on the bandwagon today and pay homage to the classics."

Teacher Huang took a deep breath, focused his energy, and struck a classic pose from a skit.

next second.

"eighty!"

With a powerful roar, Teacher Huang slammed the cannonball down heavily.

clang!

A muffled thud.

The nail was driven in about a third of the way.

"eighty!"

It was another hard blow.

The rusty shell made violent, intimate contact with the spiked head, and sparks almost flew out.

"eighty!"

The third time.

The nail was driven completely into the wood, fitting perfectly.

Teacher Huang got so into smashing things that he even started to create a rhythm.

"Eighty! Eighty! Eighty!"

As he shouted, he brandished the real thing, powerful enough to raze the house to the ground, and began to brutally and repeatedly strike the nails on the window frame.

That scene was absolutely outrageous.

A well-known actor, holding an unexploded bomb from World War II, frantically hammered nails like a construction worker in a slow-paced lifestyle variety show.

Each strike of the hammer was accompanied by a rhythmic "eighty".

Peng Peng and Teacher He next to them were laughing so hard they were doubled over and couldn't straighten up.

"Hahaha! Teacher Huang, isn't this sledgehammer a bit too expensive?"

"Eighty-one hammer blows, this window was worth it!"

The live stream chat was absolutely in stitches, with the screen filled with "eighty" and "hahahaha" that completely obscured the view.

"Teacher Huang got it right! That joke was picked up so smoothly!"

"Oscar-worthy teamwork! I'm actually convinced this is a fake!"

"I'm dying of laughter! Who came up with this script? It's so brilliant!"

"Eighty-one, no cheating! This prop is really good quality, it didn't deform even after being hit like that."

........................................

And at this moment of online celebration.

Shanghai, an office building.

Xiao Wang, the military enthusiast who had just convinced himself that it was fake, was holding his phone with his eyes wide open.

He watched the Type 97 mortar shell on the screen being wildly swung around by Teacher Huang like a sledgehammer.

Watching those hammer blows fall felt like a heavy blow to his heart.

Each "clang" made his eyelids twitch.

"This is insane... If this were true, the fuse would have been triggered by vibration long ago..."

Xiao Wang muttered to himself, his lips twitching.

Even these old bombs that haven't been used for decades, the so-called dead bombs, can't withstand such violent treatment.

This is playing with fire! No, this is fancy suicide!

If that really was a bomb, a small mushroom cloud should have risen from the Mushroom House by now, and Teacher Huang should have turned to ashes.

But the reality is that Teacher Huang is still there, energetically shouting "eighty," and the bomb is obediently acting as its hammer, without any temper.

At that moment, the last vestige of doubt in Xiao Wang's heart—that this might be the real thing—completely vanished.

If there was still a one in ten thousand chance before, then Teacher Huang's few moves, which are enough to be recorded in the history of variety shows, have stamped the most authoritative seal on the conclusion that this was scripted.

"I knew it!"

Xiao Wang shook his head, stuffed the last bite of the braised pork trotter rice into his mouth, and a relieved smile appeared on his face.

"If this were true, would Teacher Huang dare to do something like this? He's not stupid."

"It seems that this prop not only looks good, but its internal weight distribution is also quite scientific. If it were hollow, it would have collapsed long ago."