FQ chapter 4

The rain drizzled on through the night, but the next day brought clear skies.

Maybe the coolness of the night rain still lingered, or maybe the elevation was a bit high—either way, the sun didn’t feel hot on the skin. It was warm and comfortable. The stone tiles in the courtyard, washed by rain and then dried by sunlight, gleamed brightly. The bougainvillea on the courtyard wall bloomed vibrantly.

Beneath the big tree in the middle of the courtyard was a small bamboo table and chair set, with a thick piece of glass on the tabletop. On the tea table sat a small herbal teapot. Luan Ye had boiled some hot water and was now sipping it slowly in the courtyard.

After a bath and a nap, plus some hot water, he could now barely manage a few syllables—his voice was hoarse, almost painful to hear.

Granny Mu entered from outside, carrying a bamboo basket on her back. Luan Ye nodded at her in greeting.

“Up so early?” she asked.

It was nearly 1 p.m., so Luan Ye wasn’t sure if that was a greeting or sarcasm. She went on without waiting for a reply: “We’re having rice noodles for lunch. You can eat those, right?”

Luan Ye nodded and paused a few seconds before rasping, “Yes.”

“Aiyo! You were fine yesterday!” she raised her eyebrows, a bit incredulous. “What happened to you?”

Luan Ye thought to himself, Well, you didn’t see me being mistaken for a mute and getting the charity treatment last night.

But that was too complicated to explain with his current voice, so he just smiled.

Granny Mu set the basket down at the kitchen door and asked, “Do you have a fever? Runny nose?”

A tiny, skinny old lady, but with a surprisingly loud voice. Luan Ye shook his head.

She reached out and touched his forehead briefly, so fast that he didn’t even have time to react.

“Just a sore throat. Easy to fix.” She quickly diagnosed. “I’ll go to Yuhua’s later and get some loquat leaves to make tea. Drink that. I’ll steam a pear for you tonight.”

Luan Ye froze for a moment. “…Okay.”

“Then no spicy sauce for the noodles.”

Rolling up her sleeves, Granny Mu marched into the kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“We’ll do pickled veggies with minced meat.”

Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen. It took Luan Ye a while to snap back to reality.

Over the years, he’d traveled a lot for photography and met all sorts of people—guarded, friendly, kind, indifferent.

But Granny Mu didn’t really fit into any of those categories. She was… natural.

Like coming home from elementary school at noon to find your grandma had lunch ready, scolding you not to be late for afternoon classes, and slipping a coin into your backpack for a popsicle before you left.

But because it had been so long since Luan Ye had experienced that kind of “naturalness,” he didn’t know how to react.

The kitchen window faced the courtyard, and the smell of pickled vegetable noodles wafted out, suddenly making Luan Ye feel hungry.

As he took another sip of hot water, there was a loud clang behind him—the sound of a door opening.

Luan Ye turned. The door of the room downstairs opened, and someone shuffled out in slippers, wearing just a tank top and shorts. His hair was dyed a blinding gold, shining in the sun.

The guy was clearly not fully awake. When he spotted Luan Ye, he paused, then walked over after a two-second delay. “You…”

“Just moved in. He’s upstairs!” Granny Mu’s voice chimed in from the kitchen window.

“Oh!” The blond guy instantly became friendlier, loudly responding and dragging a chair to sit beside Luan Ye.

“Finally, someone new! Are you here for a long stay? When did you arrive? Yesterday, the place upstairs was still empty when I went out.”

Luan Ye took another sip of water to soothe his throat and replied, “Yesterday.”

“No wonder. I was at work yesterday. When I got back, everyone was already asleep.” He picked up the conversation immediately. “Where’d you come from? How long are you staying? I’m from Shandong—ever heard of Zibo? It went viral recently for its barbecue. You should visit sometime!”

“…Sure.” Luan Ye nodded.

“My name’s Qiao Feibai, just call me Xiao Qiao—everyone here does.” The blond guy—Qiao Feibai—grinned brightly. “Just like the character in that game—I’m super good, a national-level player. Do you game? I’ll carry you next time if you do. Hey, what’s your name?”

Luan Ye: “…”

Just listening to him was making his throat hurt again. He could only pick out the important part and reply: “Luan Ye.”

Qiao Feibai went “Ohhh” and said, “I’m twenty-two. You look about the same age?”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Luan Ye replied after another sip of water.

Qiao Feibai nodded and casually said, “Okay, Ge.”

Luan Ye: “…”

Granny Mu arrived like a savior, carrying two large bowls of rice noodles and setting them in front of the two.

“Stop asking him Questions . His throat’s messed up.”

Qiao Feibai’s eyes widened like a cat’s. “Throat? You’re sick? I’ve got medicine—I’ll get it for you after lunch. I’ve got everything for throats, even Malva nut.”

Luan Ye gave him a glance, and Granny Mu added, “He sings at a bar. Sometimes he performs by the street.”

“That’s not street-performing,” Qiao Feibai corrected, wrinkling his nose. “It’s street art.”

“When he first came, he always lost his voice from singing,” Granny Mu continued, ignoring him. “I gave him loquat tea and steamed pears too—it worked.”

Qiao Feibai nodded like crazy in agreement and turned back to Luan Ye.

“You just got here, probably haven’t explored yet. It’s smaller than the ancient towns in tourist areas but has a lot of fun shops. You can easily spend a whole day in any random spot. I work at a bar on the west side of the village—I’m there on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Come by, I’ll treat you to a drink—after your throat’s better.”

Luan Ye smiled a little.

Qiao Feibai blew on his noodles while still talking: “After exploring the village, you can get a reliable guide and head into the mountains—the scenery’s amazing.”

Luan Ye nodded. “Sounds good.”

Although he said he’d go out and explore, Luan Ye didn’t actually leave during the first few days.

He slept until noon, ate lunch, and then Granny Mu would brew him loquat tea before heading out. Luan Ye spent the afternoons in the courtyard or tea room, sipping slowly.

Come eight or nine in the evening, he’d wait for Granny Mu to steam him a pear. The local pears were ugly but sweet when steamed with honey.

After three days of that, plus Qiao Feibai’s medicine, his throat finally recovered. He stayed in bed for another two days, then finally decided to go out.

Maybe because it was daytime and cars couldn’t drive into the village easily, there were more people out than the night he went to the supermarket. A small stream ran alongside the road, winding through the entire village. The water was clear and cold—probably snowmelt from the mountains.

As he followed the stream, he realized the village, though small, had a surprisingly complex network of alleyways. There were no big supermarkets, but many shops. Aside from inns, the most common were cafés. Each had its own unique style, all facing the snow-capped mountains. Lots of tourists sat at the windows taking photos.

One café diagonally across was called Laifu Café. Luan Ye paused. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

He pushed open the door, a string of bronze bells chiming brightly.

The man behind the counter was a bit chubby and greeted him with a warm smile.

“Take a look, what would you like to drink?”

Luan Ye ordered a latte and found a window seat.

The café had large windows, sunlight streaming in comfortably. Outside, a few people strolled by. At the corner, an old woman in traditional dress was selling souvenirs.

A Labrador lay sunbathing by the street, being fed sausage by passing tourists.

Luan Ye blinked—this dog looked familiar too.

Are all Labradors this size?

The owner brought over the coffee, then shouted toward the street, “Laifu!”

The fat dog, still eating sausage, suddenly jumped up with surprising speed and bolted into the café.

Luan Ye: “…”

Right. Now he remembered.

The owner lightly kicked the dog inside and turned to the tourists, smiling. “He’s on a diet. Too fat.”

Laifu tucked his tail and entered the café, then spotted Luan Ye and immediately ran over, circling him excitedly. Luan Ye petted him twice and asked, “Is this your dog?”

“Yeah,” the owner said. “He lies there by the road every day waiting for people to feed him. He’s gotten as fat as a pig.”

Luan Ye laughed. “Pretty smart.”

“All his energy goes into that,” The owner laughed too. “Are you here on vacation?”

“Mm.”

“Nice, Xuehu Village is a great place,” the owner said. “Come by for coffee whenever you’ve got time.”

More customers walked in, and the owner turned away to greet them. Luan Ye’s phone buzzed twice—an email notification.

He was still logged in, so he tapped it open. It was a work email asking if he could attend a photography exhibition.

The email came from an overseas studio he’d worked with before, and the tone wasn’t too formal. The last sentence read: “Sorry to bother you. We already asked Mr. Bai, and he said to contact you directly.”

Luan Ye stared at that sentence for a while, then expressionlessly typed, “Sorry, I’m taking a break.”

Two minutes later, he deleted the message and exited the chat window.

They had to ask me—because Bai Mingchuan couldn’t reach me.

Would Bai Mingchuan assume I’ve gone off somewhere to shoot photos again? Unlikely. Even when I was working, I never went completely off the grid for this long.

Bai Mingchuan knew I’d disappeared—but for now, he didn’t care.

Luan Ye put down his phone and took a sip of coffee. Laifu trotted over, and he scratched its chin. The dog squinted in contentment.

Laifu didn’t wear a leash, wasn’t kept in a cage. He had the freedom to lie there in the sun.

Not just because he was friendly and harmless—but because—

A dog that’s been raised for long enough won’t run away.

Luan Ye withdrew his hand.

The bell over the door jingled again. The owner looked up. “Oh, I thought you’d come by in the evening. Those coffee beans must be heavy.”

Luan Ye looked up. The man at the door was tall with a striking profile.

He froze. It was the young driver.

Laifu perked up, immediately stood and wagged his tail, barking once in greeting.

“Just happened to be on the way.” Fan Qing handed the box to the owner and scanned the room. His eyes landed on Laifu—then caught a glimpse of the man beside him.

When he saw the face clearly, Fan Qing stopped in his tracks.

He’d been thinking about that night for days—he thought this guy had already left.

Their eyes met. Fan Qing could tell Luan Ye remembered him too.

Pretending not to recognize him would be rude now.

Fan Qing sighed inwardly and walked over to him.

In the daylight, Luan Ye finally noticed how young he looked—even younger than Qiao Feibai.

Fan Qing stopped in front of him.

“You…” Fan Qing hesitated, “I thought you’d already left.”

Smooth talker, Luan Ye thought.

Fan Qing glanced at the empty coffee cup on the table.

“The coffee here is pretty good,” he added. “I’ll tell the owner to give you a discount.”

His tone was a little stiff—clearly not used to striking up conversation. Luan Ye smiled inwardly.

Too honest for his own good. He must have felt guilty after that night, and now seeing me again made him uncomfortable—so he forced himself to come talk.

Luan Ye didn’t tease him. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said.