FQ chapter 11

Luan Ye didn’t reach for the jacket immediately. “What about you?”

“I’m used to it. I used to walk this way every day,” Fan Qing said. “Doesn’t feel cold to me.”

“Should I go get mine first…”

“Go down the mountain, get your jacket, then come all the way back up and into the mountain again?” Fan Qing sighed. “Are you trying to get your WeChat step count up?”

“…,” Luan Ye chuckled at the image.

“Just wear it. We’re only making a loop and coming back.”

This time Luan Ye didn’t insist. He took the jacket and put it on. It was still warm from being worn, with a faint scent of some unknown laundry detergent. He zipped it up to his neck and followed Fan Qing into the mountain.

After walking for almost half an hour, Luan Ye understood why Fan Qing had hesitated earlier.

Deeper into the mountain, they were walking on trails usually used by locals to herd sheep or gather firewood—uneven terrain, and with the recent rain, muddy and slippery. Much harder to walk than the main trail earlier.

Once again, Luan Ye felt very clearly that he was being a burden.

He looked up at Fan Qing, who was two steps ahead, wearing a thin gray hoodie, leading the way. Whenever the path was too steep or slippery, he would stop and turn back to watch him climb up.

“Am I—” Luan Ye’s foot slipped mid-sentence and he stumbled forward.

At the critical moment, Fan Qing reacted quickly, grabbed him by the forearm, and steadied him before letting go. “What?”

“…Am I one of those troublesome types of clients?” Luan Ye sighed.

Fan Qing turned back, puzzled by the question.

“No.”

“Then what kind of client is troublesome?” Luan Ye grabbed a short pine beside him and followed Fan Qing up a bit more.

“There are the half-baked hiking hobbyists. Don’t listen to advice, ignore safety notices, go off-route. End up lost or injured—a real pain.”

There were broken branches underfoot. Fan Qing kicked them aside to prevent Luan Ye from tripping, then looked back to watch him pass.

“You’re very obedient,” Fan Qing commented.

Luan Ye: “…”

Being called obedient by someone nearly ten years younger—Luan Ye didn’t know how to respond.

“…Thanks,” he said.

They walked a bit further in. The mossy path mixed with mud, and some areas had pooled water. Even though Fan Qing deliberately picked the better spots to walk, Luan Ye still slipped several times.

Troublesome again, Luan Ye thought.

His pace gradually slowed down. Then out of nowhere, he said, “Maybe we should head back.”

Fan Qing thought he was tired and looked at him. “Want to rest for ten minutes?”

“No need. Let’s go back.”

Luan Ye took a few seconds to even out his breathing, then smiled. “I thought about it. Even if we find mushrooms, I won’t recognize them. And I can’t cook, can’t take them back either.”

He paused. “Feels like I’m wasting time… doing something meaningless.”

And also wasting your time.

Fan Qing frowned, staring at Luan Ye’s face, trying to understand what he meant.

The curiosity and excitement Luan Ye had earlier about entering the mountain had disappeared, replaced by a calm indifference again.

“There’s a gentle slope just a little further ahead. Let’s go that far, rest a bit, then go back,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye nodded and followed behind him.

Not even five minutes later, Fan Qing stopped.

Luan Ye saw him walking to the base of a pine tree on the right. He squatted down and brushed aside some fallen pine needles. Luan Ye leaned over to peek.

He froze. “Whoa—what the hell?”

Next to the tree roots, several blue-white mushrooms were clustered together, not fully open, misty droplets still clinging to the caps.

Fan Qing reached out and gently cleared some of the surface dirt to reveal the base, then looked at Luan Ye.

“Pick it. From the root, but don’t pull too hard.”

Luan Ye crouched down, pinched the base like Fan Qing said, and pulled it up. It felt cool and a little soft.

“This—” He was actually a little nervous. “Is it edible?”

“Yeah. Not poisonous,” Fan Qing said. “Good for soup.”

He watched Luan Ye pick the rest and put them into the bamboo basket, then continued leading the way.

As they walked, Luan Ye kept glancing down at the few lonely mushrooms in the basket. The excitement began to wear off a bit.

“How long can these keep if we bring them back?”

“Not long, best eaten the same day,” Fan Qing said.

Eat today—but he couldn’t cook, and didn’t want to bother Granny Mu.

Fan Qing seemed to guess what he was thinking, adding: “I can cook. One portion is just right.”

“Huh?” Luan Ye was surprised.

Fan Qing glanced at him calmly: “I found these.”

Luan Ye stared for a few seconds: “Wow.”

The guide claims the mushrooms aren’t the boss’s—what kind of guide is this?

Fan Qing laughed a little before saying, “You can also take them back and pay a little cooking fee at a restaurant to make them for you.”

He paused. “If you can find the place, that is.”

Luan Ye looked up and stared at Fan Qing.

The kid’s challenge was obvious.

But still, Luan Ye couldn’t help feeling a little competitive.

After that, he didn’t mention going back again. Instead of trudging silently, he started looking around everywhere.

And only then did he realize there were a lot of things in the mountain. Leaves and pine needles thick as a blanket, pinecones scattered like little towers, moss and wild wood ear mushrooms growing on fallen logs, mushrooms of every shape nestled in the grasses under trees.

And this was when he realized the benefit of having Fan Qing along.

Fan Qing really had grown up in the mountains—he only needed one glance to tell which mushrooms were edible and worth picking.

Some mushrooms that looked harmless were highly toxic, and some ugly, wrinkly ones were safe. Some soft white ones would poison you, while oddly-colored ones were harmless…

Luan Ye tapped a reddish-brown mushroom cap and looked at Fan Qing.

“Can you eat this one?”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s red?”

“You guys have a song I saw online,” Luan Ye cleared his throat. “Red cap, white stalk…”

Before he could finish, Fan Qing burst out laughing, turning away and laughing for a long time.

Luan Ye watched him. When Fan Qing laughed, he actually looked his age—very sunny and bright.

“Cook it properly and it’s fine,” Fan Qing said, calming down. “And it’s not a white stalk. It’s yellow.”

Luan Ye looked down and confirmed it was.

He skillfully picked the mushroom.

While he was still busy harvesting, Fan Qing looked up at the sky.

Through the thick canopy, it had gotten darker in just a short while. The pressure in the air had dropped.

When Luan Ye stood up, Fan Qing asked, “Ready to head back?”

Luan Ye let out an “Ah,” a bit reluctant. He checked the time and realized they’d already been in the mountain for over two hours.

Time really flew.

The basket was half full—definitely enough for that night. Any more would be excessive. Luan Ye nodded, “Let’s go.”

His tone rose slightly; clearly, he was in a good mood.

Fan Qing glanced at him, amusement flickering in his eyes, then led the way down via another path.

This path had more low shrubs, dense and thick. They used branches and leaves for balance and didn’t slip as much.

Halfway down, Fan Qing stopped again and gestured for Luan Ye to look at a nearby bush.

It was a wild raspberry plant, lush and full. Most of the berries were ripe, bunched up densely.

“Locals call it ‘black bubble fruit,’ but it’s actually just raspberry. When it turns black, it’s ripe and edible.”

The rain had washed the wild berries clean, making them look fresh and juicy. Luan Ye watched Fan Qing pick one and eat it. He followed and picked one too—quite sweet.

When he reached for another, Fan Qing stopped him.

“Not washed. One is enough to try.”

He pulled off two large leaves from a nearby tree branch and said, “Hold out your hands.”

Luan Ye blinked, then held out his hands. Fan Qing placed the leaves in his palms and turned to pick more berries, placing a handful at a time into Luan Ye’s makeshift “bowl.”

“There are thorns on the branches,” Fan Qing explained.

Luan Ye held the berries and finally felt like more than a boss—he was also kind of a supervisor. When the berries were heaping up in his hands, Fan Qing stopped picking.

Luan Ye pointed at the ripe berries still left on the bush. “There’s more.”

Fan Qing looked at him for a moment, seeming like he was about to laugh.

“Leave them. Birds, squirrels, and passing shepherds will eat them.”

Luan Ye was momentarily stunned. Fan Qing had said it so naturally, without thinking, like it was just obvious.

Compared to him, I really am a capitalist boss, Luan Ye thought to himself.

“Put them in your pocket. Don’t mix them with the mushrooms,” Fan Qing said. “Some mushrooms are poisonous when raw and can contaminate the fruit.”

Luan Ye was wearing Fan Qing’s jacket, which had fairly large pockets. He wrapped the berries in the leaves and tucked them inside. Fan Qing looked up again at the sky.

“Let’s go, we can’t stop now,” he said. “It’s going to rain in the mountains soon.”

Not even ten minutes after he said that, raindrops came pouring down.

The rain fell fast and hard, and there was no chance of finding shelter in the mountains now. Fortunately, the two of them were walking quickly. By the time they reached the main mountain trail, the downpour had almost soaked them completely.

Luan Ye was better off—his upper body was protected by the waterproof jacket. But Fan Qing’s sweatshirt was completely soaked and clung to his skin, outlining his figure.

Luan Ye pointed at the jacket: “Should I—”

Before he could finish, Fan Qing interrupted, “If we switch now, both of us will be drenched. No point.”

True enough. Luan Ye sighed.

“Let’s go down the mountain first,” Fan Qing said, walking ahead. “I have clothes in the car.”

As they descended, the rain lessened with the drop in altitude. By the time they reached the lakeside, it had almost stopped, only a few light drops falling now and then.

There were still tourists leisurely enjoying the lake. Only Luan Ye and Fan Qing looked like drowned rats. People passing by looked at them with some shock.

Luan Ye met Fan Qing’s gaze, a bit amused. “Is the weather messing with us?”

“Mountain weather’s always like this,” Fan Qing replied, slightly exasperated. “Raining up top, sunny down below. Rain in the east, sun in the west.”

They walked, dripping wet, to the car parked at the ranch lot. Fan Qing opened the trunk and pulled out a backpack, taking out a quick-dry towel and handing it to Luan Ye.

Luan Ye wiped the rain off his face and hair, then unzipped the jacket. His clothes underneath were mostly dry. He gave the towel back to Fan Qing after a quick wipe.

While Luan Ye was drying his hair, Fan Qing pulled a white T-shirt from the bag and took the towel.

“You came prepared,” Luan Ye commented.

“Brought it last time I hiked. Didn’t get around to unpacking.”

Fan Qing hesitated, then opened the backseat door.

“You need to get in just to change a shirt?” Luan Ye asked, laughing. “It’s not like you’re changing pants.”

Fan Qing glanced back at him but said nothing, then shut the door.

Luan Ye chuckled and patted his pants pocket. Inside were cigarettes and a lighter—slightly damp, but thanks to the windbreaker, the cigarettes were still dry.

He lit one and took a drag.

The car window was tinted a faint brown. Through it, he could see Fan Qing with his back to the glass, taking off his sweatshirt and drying the rain off his body.

He lowered his head, the lines of his youthful back defined and lean—his silhouette blurred through the window.

Luan Ye smiled and looked away. In the distance, a rain-soaked cedar tree stood tall at the lakeside, drenched but lush and green.