FQ chapter 46

“The umbrella and fan, the family in town can make them. The craftsman is nearly seventy and has been doing bamboo weaving for fifty years. Now he runs the shop with his daughter,” Fan Qing said as he opened the yogurt and handed it to Luan Ye.

“We explained it to him once and he understood. He spent the whole afternoon making several samples for us. I picked a few that looked good and had Li Hongkuo bring them back to test. We’ll check the results tomorrow. If you want to come see…”

“If you think it’s fine, then it’s fine,” Luan Ye said. “Just go with your ideas.”

That should’ve sounded encouraging, but Fan Qing felt a little conflicted. “I’ve never done this before. What if we make everything and it doesn’t come across well in the photos?”

The buckwheat cakes were filled with sweet red bean paste—not hot, but still fragrant. Luan Ye swallowed a bite and took a sip of yogurt.

“First of all, I’ve been doing this for years,” Luan Ye said. “As long as it’s not a total disaster, we can make it work. At worst, it’s the difference between a 90 and a 70.”

“If the scene doesn’t work, rely on composition. If composition fails, work on lighting. If lighting isn’t great, fix it in post. If all else fails, say it’s artistic and no one can argue.” Luan Ye chuckled.

“So impressive.” Fan Qing laughed.

Luan Ye continued, “And secondly, I trust you.”

Fan Qing looked up at him immediately.

“From being a guide, to giving feedback, to communicating with the bamboo craftsman—you have your own ideas, and you’re not the kind of person who backs off or slacks off just because something’s hard,” Luan Ye said.

“That’s enough. Experience is the least important part—not just for this, but for anything you’ll face in the future, anywhere.”

“Do it your way, and then hand it over to me.”

Only after Luan Ye finished another buckwheat cake did Fan Qing finally nod.

“…Got it.”

“You were the one who communicated with the bamboo craftsman, right?” Luan Ye asked.

Fan Qing nodded. Luan Ye continued, “Then keep handling it. Start with paper lanterns and umbrellas—hold off on the rest for now.”

Fan Qing hesitated a moment, then nodded: “Okay.”

……

In the following days, Fan Qing was extremely busy—busier than when he used to take people into the mountains. He was constantly running between the papermaking workshop and Xuehu Village, sometimes even going into the old town to improve the lantern and umbrella designs. He usually arrived late to meet with Luan Ye, and they’d discuss progress and scene concepts.

By the time Luan Ye returned to the “No Hurry” studio, Fan Qing and Li Hongkuo had already completed the first batch of what they had planned, and there were quite a few of them.

The courtyard was filled with paper lanterns of various sizes, decorated with imprints of flowers and leaves, and small candle-like lights inside. When night fell, the shadows they cast were beautiful. The alley by the entrance was lined with hanging paper umbrellas and lanterns. On the walls of the courtyard and alley, paper artworks were framed—colorful paintings of local deities by Li Hongkuo and his team. They were quite eye-catching.

When Fan Qing and Luan Ye arrived, they saw tourists taking photos in the alley.

The entire papermaking process setup was ready. Everything was tidy—camera-friendly but still retained a rustic authenticity.

Li Hongkuo stood at the door, wearing traditional clothing—clean but not new—and looked full of energy.

“It’s all done according to Mr. Fan’s instructions,” he said, likely assuming Fan Qing’s opinions were the same as Luan Ye’s. “Mr. Luan, what do you think?”

Luan Ye glanced at Fan Qing and smiled.

“Looks great,” he said. “Exactly what I had in mind.”

Fan Qing also smiled but didn’t say anything.

“With more foot traffic, some people have been buying things—mostly asking about the lanterns and the paintings on the walls,” Li Hongkuo said excitedly. “We sold a few. I didn’t dare sell the rest in case you needed them for photos.”

“…It’s not that serious,” Luan Ye laughed. “What’s more important—business or pictures?”

Without hesitation, Li Hongkuo said, “Your photos, of course.”

“…You’re unbelievable.”

Before Luan Ye could say more, one of the tourists stepped inside and asked, “Is the lantern at the door for sale? How much is it?”

Li Hongkuo looked at Luan Ye, about to speak, but Luan Ye cut in immediately: “Yes, it’s for sale.”

Fan Qing added, “One hundred and fifty.”

The customer hesitated—probably thought it was expensive.

“All handmade,” Luan Ye said, pointing to the equipment inside. “Each lantern takes over two weeks to complete. Guaranteed one-of-a-kind.”

“If you buy one, we can write a local blessing on it for you,” Fan Qing said. “Makes it a nice souvenir.”

The real boss, Li Hongkuo, chimed in at last: “…Buy two and I’ll give you 15% off.”

The customer was clearly interested: “Can I choose myself?”

All three of them answered at once: “Yes.”

The couple spent a few minutes picking and bought three lanterns. Each was inscribed with a phrase by Yang Jie.

Li Hongkuo brought out two more lanterns to fill the empty spots and then started taking photos.

Yang Jie was there too, in traditional dress and a headscarf. None of them were used to serious photography and looked nervous—especially Yang Jie, who didn’t know where to place her hands and feet.

“Just work how you normally do—no need to pose or make expressions,” Luan Ye smiled. “Act like I’m not here.”

Yang Jie paused, then said, “Oh, okay.”

Once they got into the rhythm of papermaking, everyone relaxed. From a distance, Luan Ye tried to help them forget about the camera and capture their most natural state.

Fan Qing stood beside him, watching through Luan Ye’s camera angle.

Behind them were wooden houses and various paper lanterns. Ahead were people in traditional clothes, methodically pounding materials, pouring paper pulp, and pressing paper. In the end, they lifted a sheet of centuries-old handmade paper toward the sunlight, observing the life and botanical patterns within.

Luan Ye didn’t direct them to pose to avoid making them nervous. He adjusted the camera settings frame by frame himself.

The photo and video shoot continued until after dark. Once the sun set, all the lanterns lit up, and the entire studio, starting from the alley, became a stunning sight.

When the shoot ended, Li Hongkuo shut the door and insisted on taking everyone out for hotpot. He ordered pomegranate wine. Yang Jie had soda; Fan Qing was driving, so only Li Hongkuo and Luan Ye drank.

“I’ll finish editing the photos and video in the next couple days,” Luan Ye said. “You’ll post them on your own account, right?”

Li Hongkuo nodded. “And also on the public account for our local media platform. They reached out before asking for intangible heritage content. Can I send them a copy?”

Luan Ye thought for a moment. “Sure—but don’t credit me.”

Fan Qing paused while picking up food and looked at him.

Li Hongkuo was surprised too. “No credit?”

“Yeah. Just credit the ‘No Hurry’ studio. I didn’t use to shoot this kind of content—it’d be inconvenient if my name’s attached.”

Li Hongkuo didn’t really understand but accepted the answer: “What if they want an interview?”

“You, Yang Jie, and Fan Qing,” Luan Ye said. “That’s more than enough.”

Yang Jie waved her hands quickly: “I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can,” Luan Ye laughed. “You did a great job in the photos and explained everything clearly.”

Yang Jie blushed. “I got used to talking with so many visitors these days.”

Fan Qing stared at him for a moment. Luan Ye’s explanation might’ve fooled Li Hongkuo, but Fan Qing knew the real reason. Still, he said nothing.

Li Hongkuo responded enthusiastically, “Got it!”

“As for the paper lanterns and umbrellas—if there’s a market, keep making them. Improve the designs where needed,” Luan Ye said. “You’ve settled the bamboo weaving part, right?”

Li Hongkuo was chewing and mumbled, “No, I don’t know how to explain it. Mr. Fan handled it. Most of this stuff is his doing.”

Luan Ye turned to Fan Qing, feigning mild surprise. “Really?”

…Really? Weren’t you the one who asked me to handle it?

“Yes,” Fan Qing replied, already guessing what Luan Ye was up to.

They exchanged a glance. Luan Ye winked quickly.

“Of course!” Li Hongkuo blurted out. “You two were the ones who suggested making these in the first place!”

“Mainly Mr. Fan—design and communication, he worked hard,” Luan Ye said, smiling.

Li Hongkuo raised his cup to clink with Fan Qing’s tea. “Thanks for everything, Mr. Fan! You’re officially one of us at the No Hurry studio now!”

“One of you?” Fan Qing took a sip of tea.

“Just verbal, right?” Luan Ye asked.

“No way,” said Li Hongkuo. “Mr. Fan’s worked hard—design, coordination, everything. Let’s treat it as a technical partnership. If we make money, the three of us split the profits!”

“Don’t count me. I just took photos,” Luan Ye said. “You two figure it out.”

Fan Qing glanced at him, lips pressing slightly.

“There’s still the fans and crafts to finalize before Mr. Fan here returns to school,” Luan Ye continued. “Make a few samples first and test the market. If offline sales are good, consider going online—maybe try livestream e-commerce.”

Li Hongkuo frowned, dumbfounded again, forgetting even to eat: “I can’t do that—I can’t even talk properly to customers face to face, let alone online…”

“You don’t need to say anything for now. Just start a livestream and record your daily work—how you pound the pulp, how you dry the paper…”

“Would anyone watch that?” Yang Jie asked, a bit surprised.

“Young people these days are really bored. People watch hoof trimming and carpet cleaning videos,” Luan Ye said with a smile. “If you don’t believe me, ask Fan Qing.”

“…I haven’t watched any,” Fan Qing replied a bit helplessly.

“Why don’t the few of us partner up?” Li Hongkuo persisted. “If Mr. Fan ends up going back to school, we’ll still have someone to hold down the fort.”

“You’re the boss; that should be your job,” Luan Ye smiled. “He’s going to school, I’m not a local either. If we both leave, won’t the studio still run?”

Fan Qing’s chopsticks paused midway to the plate and he quietly set them down by his bowl.

Luan Ye looked at Li Hongkuo and tapped the table twice.

“As long as Fan Qing finalizes his part, even if he’s not here, you and Yang Jie won’t have much trouble managing things. Today went great, didn’t it? You even gave someone a discount.”

“Business has never been this good. It’s all because of you guys,” Li Hongkuo took a sip of wine and slammed his cup down. “Really.”

“When I used to work, I was on the production line—sitting on a stool next to the conveyor belt all day.”

Li Hongkuo stared into the bubbling hotpot, at a loss for words, murmuring.

“I was pretty clumsy back then too. Got yelled at by the boss several times for being late. My face would turn red.” He rubbed his face with one hand.

“Got up before dawn, came home after dark. Eight people crammed into one dorm room… Didn’t really get to talk—everyone was too tired.”

“I still remember my first time on the subway—I didn’t know you had to insert the card again to exit. I kept swiping and couldn’t get out. In the end, a staff member got annoyed, yanked the card from my hand, shoved it back, and muttered ‘country bumpkin’ under his breath.”

Li Hongkuo chuckled at his own story.

“Later I realized that place wasn’t for me. When I looked up, the buildings were so tall, the city was so big, but the sky was just a tiny patch. People lived in cubicles and could only say so little.” He took another sip of wine. “So I came back—though people said I was weak, that I gave up the big city for a tiny village.”

“But I knew deep down this was where I belonged. All I could do was make paper. Paper that wouldn’t even sell…”

“Who said that?” Luan Ye smiled. “Business was good today.”

“That’s only because you all came,” Li Hongkuo’s eyes were red. “You created all these new products, took photos, shot videos…”

“It’ll only get better,” Luan Ye said, raising his glass. “You will. And the studio too.”

He and Li Hongkuo clinked their glasses heavily. “Cheers!”

They chatted through dinner, and by the time they returned to Xuehu Village, it was completely dark.

The Yunnan sky was filled with stars. On the way back, Luan Ye rolled down the window, letting the night breeze and starlight pour in. They didn’t speak much until they rounded a corner and the wind picked up.

Fan Qing rolled the window back up a little. “Don’t catch a chill.”

Luan Ye turned to look at him, then shut the window.

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” he asked. “We’re almost home and that’s the first thing you’ve said.”

He looked at Fan Qing for a moment. “Are you upset?”

“…No,” Fan Qing replied.

Luan Ye watched him. Fan Qing pursed his lips before speaking again.

“Is the reason you don’t sign your name… because you don’t want people to find out you’re here?”

After a pause, Luan Ye looked away and nodded. “Yes.”

There was silence for a while. Luan Ye expected Fan Qing to ask who he was hiding from, or why.

But he didn’t. Instead, he asked a different question.

“Why won’t you partner with Li Hongkuo?”

“I don’t have the energy. And I didn’t come here to open a shop,” Luan Ye replied after a moment. “Besides, once the studio is up and running…”

“You might not still be here,” Fan Qing said softly.

Luan Ye turned to look at him.

Their car was the only one on the road. Wind roared past the windows. Tree shadows zipped by, indistinct and heavy.

“Is that why you’re upset?” Luan Ye asked.

“It’s not that I’m upset… I just don’t know what to do.”

Fan Qing kept his eyes on the road ahead and sighed.

“I knew from the start you’d leave. I even said so during the Torch Festival. But—”

But he still didn’t know what to do.

It was a mix of unease, neediness, and maybe a little selfishness.

“I’d rather you just packed up one day and told me goodbye, that you were leaving—and kicked me while I was still too shocked to react…”

Fan Qing laughed a little at his own words.

But Luan Ye didn’t laugh. He just looked at him, waiting.

The car gradually slowed to a stop by the roadside.

Fan Qing let go of the steering wheel and stared into the dark.

“But the feeling you give me is…”

He opened his mouth, trying to sound lighthearted, but each word felt heavy.

“It’s like even though you’re still here, everything you say and do is preparing to leave…”

No information on his WeChat profile.

Refused to let him pick up deliveries for him.

Delegated everything to him, barely spoke to others.

Wouldn’t allow his name on photos.

Refused to go into business with anyone.

It was like Luan Ye was doing everything to avoid forming ties, like he could disappear at any moment without leaving a trace.

Or rather—leave him at any moment.

That kind of slow, drawn-out farewell that never really begins but also never ends—it was like an hourglass with no end in sight. It hurt.

The road was deserted, the night stretching endlessly ahead. In the small sealed car, a faint dome light glowed above them, casting Luan Ye’s expression in shadow.

His voice was a bit hoarse. “How far are we from the village?”

“Twenty minutes,” Fan Qing replied, glancing at the GPS.

Luan Ye opened the door. “Let’s get some air.”