In a shocking turn of events that has left local farmers scratching their heads and raking through their dwindling profits, the once-thriving rice industry in Dounan has become a tale of woe, with many likening it to a tragic soap opera minus the dramatic music and the capable characters. Residents of the charming town, famous for its verdant rice paddies, are now breaking out the emergency stash of instant noodles as their beloved rice fields slowly turn into ghostly reminders of what once was. “It’s like watching your favorite TV show get canceled after a cliffhanger,” lamented local rice farmer Lin Cheung, holding a bundle of wilting rice stalks as though they were the last pages of his cherished script. “One minute, we were on top of the world, and the next, we’re just a sad punchline to a joke no one is laughing at.” What has brought sorrow upon these fertile lands is not an invasion of pests or a sudden drought, but rather the insatiable appetite of modern convenience. The rise of trendy fast-food chains offering rice-less alternatives has left Dounan's traditional farmers questioning their life choices and wondering if they should invest in avocado toast rather than their beloved paddy fields. “Have you seen the kids these days? They walk right past my farm on their way to the newest hipster café in town, oblivious to the glorious grains I have nurtured for decades,” complained farmer Yu Chen, gesturing dramatically towards his desolate fields. “I’ve even tried to sell my rice as ‘artisan hand-harvested grass’ to appeal to the cool kids, but they just keep asking if it’s gluten-free!” As Dounan’s farmers trade in their rice paddies for alternative careers—ranging from “organic TikTok influencer” to “reality show contestant”—the local economy has taken a turn for the worse. Business owners are seen reorganizing their inventory, with signboards now offering “Buy One, Get One Free on Instant Noodles” in a desperate attempt to attract the fleeting youth demographic. In a last-ditch effort to save their fading legacy, a group of farmers have banded together to launch a “Save Dounan Rice” campaign, complete with a social media hashtag that has failed to trend. They hope to entice residents to rediscover the beauty of fresh, natural rice, free from the chains of fusion cuisines that have led them astray. However, instead of support, their pleas have mostly brought out the local college students with a trend for meme-making—suddenly transforming Lin’s sad rice paddies into a backdrop for ironic selfies. “Literally no one needs to see this!” exclaimed social media manager Mei, after witnessing the chaotic scene at the once-beautiful fields. “I mean, who even cares about local agriculture when we can optimize our feeds with more shots of overpriced lattes?” As the sun sets over the abandoned rice fields of Dounan, the echoes of discarded harvesting tools reverberate through the air, accompanied only by the distant hum of smartphones capturing the end of a golden era. The plight of the Dounan farmers serves as a poignant reminder that sometimes progress arrives in the form of a hollow avocado toast, and for those who grow the rice, it’s truly a bitter pill to swallow.