Chapter 2

Cold air still seeped through the split in my shoes as I walked.

The production team probably figured I wore these beat-up shoes on purpose for the camera.

But nobody asked.

Arthur led us into a courtyard in the village.

There were four other kids on the show.

One girl dragged a white suitcase with a plush charm dangling from it.

A guy wearing limited-edition headphones asked for the Wi-Fi password as soon as he stepped inside.

Then there was a brother-sister pair, whining back and forth about the hot sun and the bad road.

The place wasn't all that run-down. It had blue-brick walls, a wooden door, and a kitchen stacked with firewood and cornmeal.

The moment I walked in, I caught the smell of food. It was a faint scent of dry cornmeal.

Even so, my stomach gave a light squeeze.

Arthur laid out our tasks—clean the yard, haul water, chop wood, and feed the chickens.

We couldn't have dinner until we finished.

Someone complained right away, "What about lunch?"

The director, Benjamin Carter, chuckled behind the camera. "This show is about experiencing life. Start by relying a little less on comforts."

Everyone groaned, but I didn't say a word.

Relying less?

I had long stopped having anything to rely on.

At the start of my freshman year, Harry had transferred me 30 dollars as usual.

The reference read, "Spend it wisely."

Starting college meant buying a mattress pad, textbooks, a washbasin, and clothes hangers, as well as paying class dues.

I had tallied up every single cost.

A secondhand mattress pad from an upperclassman cost 2.50 dollars.

I could borrow textbooks whenever possible and buy cheap used ones when I couldn't, which would cost 8.60 dollars.

The cheapest washbasin at the store was 69 cents.

A small bottle of shampoo was 99 cents.

Class dues were five bucks.

I re-counted what I had left three times. It wasn't enough.

During those two weeks of orientation, I ate only one meal a day.

For lunch, I bought two plain buns and got a bowl of free broth. For dinner, I just drank warm water.

When my blood sugar dipped and my vision went dark, I would just crouch down and wait it out.

One day, the advisor asked if I felt sick.

"I just didn't sleep well," I lied.

The truth was, I was starving—so hungry that my stomach was in knots.

The cafeteria lady saw me getting free broth all the time, and once, she snuck two cabbage leaves into my bowl.

I almost burst into tears right then and there.

After that, I stopped going to the same counter.

I was afraid she would recognize me, afraid everyone else would find out I couldn't even afford a meal.

During the noon break, the production team set up a family call segment.

I never expected Mandy to pick up.

The screen lit up, showing her sitting in an office. Her makeup was flawless, and her posture was straight.

"Mom," I called out softly.

She looked at me, and her very first words were, "Was the morning work tough?"

Just as I was about to shake my head, she added, "A little hardship is good for you. Your dad said you were living way too comfortably at school and complaining about everything."

My throat closed up. "I wasn't complaining."

Mandy frowned. "Jennifer, I don't want to hear you deny everything every single time. Your dad showed me the texts of you asking for things. You're 19 now. You can't just expect to be spoiled forever."

I was completely stunned.

Spoiled? Me?

But the camera was right beside me. Harry's warning still rang loud in my head.

All I could do was dig my nails deep into my palm. "I understand."

Mandy stayed silent for a few seconds. She sounded even more annoyed. "You always say you understand. Jennifer, I just hope you actually do this time."

The call ended, and the screen went black.

Sitting on the small wooden stool, I suddenly felt a wave of cold.

My roommate, Amber Roberts, once chewed me out for being stubborn and hiding how I felt.

But I wasn't being stubborn.

I was terrified. Terrified that if I opened my mouth, I would lose even that tiny bit of money I had left.

At 2:00 pm, the crew opened up their boxed lunches.

The food wasn't for us. Yet when the aroma drifted over, I couldn't help but look up.

The meal included grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and eggs.

The steam rose as they popped open the plastic containers.

I stared for a split second before quickly looking away. My stomach felt like it was being twisted in knots.

I turned around to wash the buckets by the well, splashing cold water over my face.

Water trickled past the corner of my mouth.

I almost licked it with my tongue.

How pathetic.

I lowered my head, keeping my face away from the camera lens.