Chapter 152 - 151
Valentine stood helplessly at the door, the camera still rolling. She bit her lip, walked over to the well-behaved little boy, and started looking after him.
Joanna Kennedy’s gaze swept across the simple courtyard, but her expression didn’t show much change.
There were still several more families to visit. The group didn’t stay long at the little girl’s house and quickly hurried to the next one. Along the way, they ran into Vivian Bishop’s team at one of the homes.
The situations were all similar. In the better-off cases, young people working elsewhere would send money back. Others were single-parent families where the father or mother had died in an accident while working away from home.
On the way back to their lodging, no one spoke. The tricycle chugged along the road.
For the next two days, the group continued to learn about the town’s situation, conveying the poverty and hardship of Oakhaven to a wider audience through their cameras.
The temperature difference between morning and night was significant in the mountains. Valentine caught a cold, and since Joanna spent a lot of time with her, she got infected too.
"Is it serious? Should we go to the town clinic for a shot?" Owen Jennings asked as he handed the prepared cold medicine packets to the two women and sat down next to Joanna.
Valentine sneezed. "Thanks," she said in a hoarse voice. "It’s all my fault for getting Joanna sick..."
If she hadn’t insisted on wearing so little all the time just to look good, she wouldn’t have caught a cold.
Joanna thanked Owen Jennings, then turned to comfort Valentine. "It’s fine. It has nothing to do with you."
Valentine was about to say something more, but Joanna had already turned back around. Shielding her face, she said to Owen Jennings, "Owen, stay away. It would be bad if I got you sick."
Owen Jennings had already grown accustomed to being called "Owen." He grinned and said, "It’s fine. I’m young and strong. I’m not afraid of catching it."
Joanna: "......??"
’Is he calling me old?’
Joanna let out a dry laugh and ignored him.
"You three, come and eat!" Nathan Vance, who was helping with the cooking, called out, poking his head out.
"Coming," Joanna replied. She pulled the frail Valentine to her feet, and Owen Jennings, who was sitting securely on a wooden stool, also held out his hand for her to pull, a look of pure innocence on his face.
Joanna forced a smile. "Oh? So frail for a young man? Weren’t you just saying how strong you were?"
"Joanna, I was wrong," Owen Jennings said, mimicking Valentine’s way of speaking, his tone bizarrely saccharine.
Valentine, standing nearby, was bewildered. Joanna silently rolled her eyes and reached out to pull him up. "Only because you contributed the cold medicine."
"Thanks, Joanna," Owen Jennings said, his tone still saccharine.
Since they both had colds, it wasn’t appropriate for them to eat with everyone at the main table. They packed some food in takeout containers and went back to their rooms to eat.
The window was blown open again, and mosquitoes flew in. Joanna had only been inside for a moment before she got several bites, forcing her to apply more mosquito repellent.
With her cold, she couldn’t taste anything. After eating a few mushrooms and a little bit of plain congee, she stopped. She carried her container downstairs, and Valentine came out too, walking ahead of her.
As they were going downstairs, an accident happened. Valentine missed a step, cried out in alarm, and tumbled down the stairs.
It was only one flight of stairs, so the fall wouldn’t be fatal, but it would definitely cause a serious injury. If she hit her face, her acting career would be ruined.
Joanna’s heart skipped a beat. She instinctively reached out and grabbed the back of Valentine’s collar, while her other hand gripped the stair railing tightly.
The wooden railing had splinters that hadn’t been sanded down properly, and they instantly tore into her palm.
She had grabbed her fast enough. Valentine stumbled down two steps before stopping, sitting on the stairs, still in shock.
Hearing the commotion, crew members quickly ran over and gathered around.
Valentine was still in a daze when Vivian Bishop helped her up. Her face was ashen. Aside from her pale complexion and a slightly scraped, red knee, she wasn’t seriously injured.
She could still feel the tightness around her neck where her collar had been pulled. She remembered Joanna was behind her—it was Joanna who had saved her. Valentine immediately turned her head and asked anxiously, "Joanna, are you okay?"
Only then did everyone’s gaze shift to Joanna.
"I’m fine, just scraped my palm a little," Joanna said. Her complexion was just as pale as Valentine’s. Her left hand was trembling slightly, its palm torn by the splinters and bleeding.
Seeing this, Owen Jennings, who had been standing on the sidelines, had his expression change. "Where’s the medic?"
The crew members finally snapped to their senses and immediately called the medic over to treat the wound.
This was harder to treat than a simple scrape. The splinters were embedded in the wound and had to be picked out one by one with tweezers, a time-consuming task.
"I’m so sorry, Joanna, I... I..." Valentine stammered as she watched the medic pick a bloody splinter out of the wound. Joanna’s eyes reddened with pain.
Tears of guilt streamed down her face. "It’s all my fault..."
Joanna’s lips had turned pale from the pain, and she was in no mood to comfort her. She just shook her head, looking rather helpless. "Valentine, can I call you big sister instead? Please stop crying."
She couldn’t stand seeing a pretty girl cry. After spending the past few days with her, Joanna could tell that Valentine didn’t have a malicious bone in her body; she was just spoiled by her family, making her overly naive and a bit... cowardly.
"It’s just a little scrape. It’ll heal quickly and won’t even leave a scar," Joanna said. But as soon as the words left her mouth,
the medic said grimly, "I wouldn’t be so sure about that."
Joanna: "........."
Valentine started crying even harder.
Joanna heaved a heavy sigh. Fortunately, Owen Jennings strode over at that moment with disinfectant and cotton swabs. Seeing the scene, he tried his best to make his voice sound gentle. "Valentine, you’ve had a scare too. You should go get some rest. We’ll take care of Jojo here."
Valentine didn’t want to leave and was about to protest, but Joanna chimed in, "Yeah, Valentine, the medic is here."
Since they both said so, Valentine bit her lip and left, glancing back every few steps.
Over by the stairs, the director had a crew member repeatedly sand the railing with sandpaper.
This was no small matter. An actress had been injured—and not just any actress, but Joanna Kennedy, the one connected to Southland.
"Director, the weather forecast says it’s going to rain soon. We should probably pack up the camera equipment in the courtyard first," a crew member said.
The director frowned. "Huh? Rain?"
It was supposed to be sunny when he checked yesterday. Why the sudden change? The director looked up and saw that the few white clouds from moments ago had indeed turned into dark storm clouds, rolling in thick and fast.
It looked like a downpour was imminent.
They hadn’t finished packing up the equipment when the rain began to fall, coming down harder and harder. By the time they finally got everything put away, everyone was soaked to the bone.
The sky was a mass of black. The rain was practically being thrown down from the heavens, hammering against the windows, which had to be propped shut with bricks.
"Jojo, don’t. You’ll get your hand wet," Owen Jennings said, taking the rag from her and wiping up the rainwater that had blown in.
"There, all done. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything. My room is right above yours."
Just as Owen Jennings was about to leave, there was a knock on the door.
The director, assistant director, and a few other senior crew members came in. "Jennings, are you alright?" one of them asked with concern. "This was our mistake. We failed to identify the safety hazards in time."