All eight still sat at the sa table, each with a serving of dumplings on their dining plates, deeply moved by the words of Uncle Chef.
The process of making dumplings was cumberso, even rolling out the dumpling wrappers was done by hand, so everyone understood that the instructors must have rested very late last night.
After the al, everyone arrived promptly at the gathering field.
But after arriving, they only saw the filming crew, no instructors, and not even a single person in a team uniform, which left everyone sowhat stunned.
"Director, who is our instructor today?" Jane Sampson turned and asked the director, who was hiding behind the camcorder.
"Your instructor today is yourselves," the director answered. "These past few days, your instructors have worked hard to train you, so today’s first mission is to co up with at least three performances—you can have more, but not less—to show your coaches and the mbers of the guard team this evening. The second mission is to use your imagination and hand-make a gift to express your feelings towards your instructors for the week."
"Hand-made? What about the raw materials?" Hibiscus Wood asked. "Can we get our wallets back and go to the city district to buy raw materials?"
"You’ll naturally get your wallets back after filming is over, and the materials for the gift cannot be bought; it’s not about how much money, but about your sincerity and creativity," the director explained. "You have the entire dayti to prepare for the performances and the gifts."
"Ah! We can’t even buy the raw materials?" Mair Williams exclaid, holding her head in despair. "Then, director, do you provide things like paper and pens?"
"Yes, we provide so materials. You can request them from the program crew, and after discussing it, we will consider whether to give them to you," the director nodded.
After saying this, the director fell silent, clearly not intending to interfere with the preparation of the eight people any longer.
The weather was nice today, without a big sun, just a cloudy day.
Hugo Edwards spoke as they sat on the ground, "The evening’s program is a collective effort, so let’s discuss that first. After we decide, we’ll prepare the gifts in the morning and rehearse together in the afternoon. How does that sound?"
"Sounds good," Jane Sampson agreed first.
"What kind of performances shall we prepare?" Charlotte Miller knew the better the performance, the less she had to worry about cara ti.
The problem was, she didn’t actually have many talents.
"Mair Williams is a singer, so singing a song related to the guard team on the spot shouldn’t be a problem, right?" Hugo looked towards Mair.
"No problem for ," singing was a skill Mair Williams relied on to survive, so indeed, it wasn’t a problem.
"I can do a recitation!" Charlie Peterson raised his hand eagerly. "Brother Edwards, Alexander SkyShaw, the two of you can join in reciting a poem about defenders and the guard team."
"Recitation I can do!" As a host, recitation was a necessary skill, so upon hearing Charlie Peterson’s suggestion, Charlotte’s spirits lifted. "I’ll join the recitation."
"Recitation works," Hugo nodded, then turned to look at Jane Sampson, Hibiscus Wood, and Benjamin Worthington; now only these three were left without a plan for the performance. "We need at least three performances; we’re one short. How about you three decide whether to collaborate on one or how to arrange it?"
"There’s singing and recitation already—how about a dance? Let Jane Sampson dance," Charlotte suggested. "With just three performances, it’s best not to repeat if possible."
"I can’t dance," Jane Sampson spread her hands in a helpless gesture and then turned to look at Benjamin Worthington. "Can you?"
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