The director blew his whistle with the enthusiasm of someone who didn't have to enter water of questionable clarity.
"Teams, to your stations!"
And with their tools, or lack of tools, decided, the cast lined up at the pond like reluctant soldiers marching into battle.
The pond shimmered beneath the sun, deceptively calm.
Ripples glided across the surface like a warning.
Somewhere beneath, fish plotted their escape.
The first touch of pond water was shockingly cold, sending a collective shiver down several spines.
An Ning stepped down the slope, net in hand. The water splashed around her calves, cool and oddly refreshing after the rice fields.
Zhou Zhenyu followed, rolling up his sleeves with the air of a man preparing for a respectable day of work rather than televised chaos.
He tested the water with his foot. "Depth is manageable."
An Ning nodded. "Visibility is low. We catch by movement."
"Understood."
The audience adored them already.
