FQ chapter 54

The buzz of his phone jolted Fan Qing so hard his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. His first instinct was to hang up, then he turned to check on Luan Ye.

He was still fast asleep, lashes still, not stirred at all.

Fan Qing glanced at the screen. Ten o’clock.

He had never slept this late before.

The missed call was from Li Hongkuo. The guy had just enough tact not to redial right away, instead sending a message: asking if Fan Qing could drop by the studio that day.

Fan Qing replied with an “okay,” then slipped out of bed to wash up quietly.

When he came out of the bathroom, he instinctively looked back at the bed. Luan Ye had rolled onto his side, quilt only covering him to the waist.

Fan Qing stepped over, meaning to pull it up for him. As he bent down, Luan Ye’s eyes opened.

Fan Qing paused, but still tugged the quilt up a little. “Did I wake you?”

“I woke up as soon as you got out of bed.” Luan Ye’s voice was low but steady. “Was that Li Hongkuo calling you?”

“Mm.” Fan Qing, still bent over him, met his gaze. “How did you know?”

“I told him earlier that you’d be back today—he must’ve timed it just right to look for you,” Luan Ye said. “Even my phone’s gone quiet.”

Fan Qing laughed for a moment before speaking: “He asked me to drop by, probably has something to discuss.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

Luan Ye glanced at him.

“I was just asking. If you’re tired—” For once, Fan Qing stumbled over his words, “—then just sleep a bit more.”

Luan Ye laughed for a good while before stopping, cleared his throat, and looked at Fan Qing: “You know, I find you really quite adorable.”

Fan Qing frowned slightly, just about to say something. Luan Ye flipped back the quilt, got out of bed, and headed for the bathroom.

“Give me ten minutes.”

Fan Qing lingered where he was for a moment, then couldn’t help following him to the bathroom door, leaning against the frame to look inside.

Luan Ye briskly brushed his teeth, splashed his face with cold water, wiped it off casually with a towel, reached out as if to grab something, then stopped. He turned his head and looked at Fan Qing standing at the doorway.

“Remember to replace my face cream.”

Only then did Fan Qing realize, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Alright.”

“There’s a bigger town near the studio—should have an adult shop,” Luan Ye said. “I remember there’s even a supermarket.”

The way he said it—so casually, so blunt—made Fan Qing straighten up instinctively: “You mean… buy it there?”

“Otherwise we could just ask at one of those tiny village shops. We pass them every day anyway.” Luan Ye found his reaction amusing and looked at him.

“Just pop in while passing, ‘Boss, you got any lub—’”

“Town. We’ll buy it in town,” Fan Qing cut in urgently. “City works too.”

Luan Ye smiled, turned back around, and reached for the hand-braided bracelet beside him.

He had taken it off the night before for his shower. Fan Qing watched him slip it back onto his left wrist and tie it snug, only then turning to come out.

As he passed Fan Qing by the door, Luan Ye suddenly turned his head, planted a hard kiss on the corner of his lips, and then moved smoothly past, as if it had all been one fluid motion.

Fan Qing froze for three whole seconds. He turned, staring at Luan Ye who was already rummaging through the wardrobe for clothes, a mix of laughter and disbelief on his face.

“What was that for?”

“Harassment.” Luan Ye didn’t even look back, his tone light and careless. “Don’t like it? Too bad.”

Fan Qing stared at him, words stuck in his throat.

Before choosing clothes, Luan Ye had already pulled off his shirt. Now, bare-chested, he bent over the wardrobe, sorting through folded shirts and trousers. The lean lines of his back muscles stood out, his skin strikingly pale in the morning light.

And across that skin—from shoulder blades down to the small of his back—were countless red marks, dark and faint, scattered everywhere.

How did those get there?

Oh. I did that.

How could I have… left him like this.

Fan Qing’s throat bobbed. Just before Luan Ye straightened up, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his waist, lowering his head to kiss his back.

This time, when they went downstairs, they didn’t run into anyone. They grabbed a quick bite and didn’t rush to the studio. By the time they arrived, it was already noon. A few tourists were outside taking photos with decorative paper umbrellas.

A young man snapped a bunch of shots for his girlfriend, then urged: “If you like it, why not just buy one?”

“The colors aren’t great,” the girl hesitated. “I’d get tired of it after a while.”

Fan Qing gave her a brief look.

The three-minute video Luan Ye had edited was spot-on. It showed the papermaking process, but also blended in local scenery and ethnic culture, styled in a way that drew in young viewers. After Li Hongkuo posted it, the video went viral quickly, re-shared by official accounts. Even reporters and media wanted to come down for an interview, to do a feature on intangible cultural heritage.

“CCTV’s Yunnan bureau reached out,” Li Hongkuo said. “They want a special report, after seeing our photos and video. They’ll be here Monday.”

Luan Ye nodded. “They should interview you and Yang Jie. That’d be great.”

Li Hongkuo instinctively started: “I—”

“You’ll do fine,” Luan Ye cut him off. “Even if you think you won’t, you have to. You’re the founder and the one in charge. This won’t be the last time.”

Li Hongkuo’s refusal stuck halfway, then twisted into a groan: “But they said the interview will include a live demonstration of papermaking—that part I can handle with Yang Jie. But they also want to ask about artistic inspiration, balancing tradition and innovation, the challenges of heritage preservation… that’s too professional. I don’t know what to say.”

His face looked miserable. “When he called me, I was already nervous. And he said leaders from the tourism bureau will be there too—so many people.”

“You weren’t this nervous when you came to me for photos,” Luan Ye teased.

At that, Li Hongkuo laughed. “Hey, that was desperation. Last-ditch effort.”

Luan Ye glanced at Fan Qing.

Fan Qing spoke up: “Ask the reporter for a list of questions first. That way we can prepare.”

When Li Hongkuo nodded, he continued: “For the tougher questions, I’ll draft some notes. Try to rephrase them in your own words. And remember, interviews usually take more than one shot—they’ll redo it if needed.”

Li Hongkuo opened his mouth again—probably to ask if Fan Qing could do it instead—but under both their gazes, he swallowed the thought and sighed.

“Ugh, I just freeze up in front of a camera.”

“You’ll get used to it. There’ll be more in the future,” Luan Ye said. “The leaders are mostly interested in the heritage angle, to see if this place can be made into a model.”

“A model? Us?” Li Hongkuo was shocked. “I was about to go bankrupt before.”

“That makes you even more of a model. A hands-on entrepreneur who turned things around,” Luan Ye said.

Li Hongkuo chuckled. “They also asked if we shot the photos and videos ourselves.”

Luan Ye looked up.

“I didn’t mention you. Didn’t dare say it was me either,” Li Hongkuo said quickly. “I just told them it was an anonymous, warmhearted yet mysterious ‘Lei Feng-style photographer’…”

At that, Fan Qing burst out laughing, glancing at Luan Ye as he did.

A “Lei Feng-style photographer.”

Sounded a lot like “rural revitalization officer.”

Luan Ye sighed.

“She even chased me about whether you’d join the interview. I told her probably not. Then she asked if we could at least use your photos, with your name credited. I said I’d have to check.”

“Thanks,” Luan Ye smiled. “No interview, but they can use the photos. As for the credit…”

He thought for a moment, then said: “Yi Mu.”

Fan Qing turned to look at him. Li Hongkuo didn’t get it and repeated: “Yi Mu?”

“Break down my surname ‘Luan’—it’s also ‘Yi’ and ‘Mu.’” Luan Ye scribbled it casually on the table.

“It means—”

His eyes fell on Fan Qing, and their gazes met. Luan Ye’s lips curved slightly.

“—also a tree.”

You’re also a tree. That was what Fan Qing had said.

Fan Qing looked at him. The faint smile on Luan Ye’s lips made him seem relaxed.

It must’ve been a spur-of-the-moment name. Back when Luan Ye was abroad, he always signed in English.

A pseudonym, but unlike before—when even writing a name for a parcel or a photo credit took him ages to decide.

“It sounds nice,” Li Hongkuo scratched his head, hesitated, then added:

“There’s one more favor. The village head of Xuehu called me.”

What, another one?!

Really treating the photographer like a full-time Lei Feng!

Fan Qing’s inner complaints flared instantly, though Luan Ye remained calm.

“Your village head has your number?”

“In a small village, sure—his house is right across from mine.”

Li Hongkuo chuckled sheepishly and went on:

“He said our video got so many likes it even trended. He himself must’ve watched it a dozen times. Now he’s wondering if he can contact the photographer—see if you’d shoot a tourism promo for Xuehu Village. Paid, of course, not volunteer work.”

Luan Ye stayed quiet.

“They said the town’s publicity office has filmed before, even hired outside help, but none of it got traction like ours.”

Then he mimicked their words: “When we film it ourselves, it’s all heart but no skill. When outsiders film, it’s skill but no heart. So they want this photographer—he clearly loves the place, but he’s also professional.”

“One compliment after another,” Luan Ye smiled faintly, giving no answer. His gaze drifted toward Fan Qing.

A second later, Fan Qing redirected the topic: “That can wait. Let’s focus on the interview first.”

“Oh, right. The interview,” Li Hongkuo snapped back, turning to Fan Qing.

“Mr. Luan won’t be interviewed, but you have to join.”

Before Fan Qing could respond, he added: “I’ll do the talking, but if I forget something or get stuck, you can fill in. Otherwise, I’ll just worry I’ll slip up. It would be embarrassing if it’s aired.”

Fan Qing looked at Luan Ye, and when Luan Ye nodded, he said: “Alright.”

With that settled, Li Hongkuo continued: “Business has been good lately. Lots of visitors came just because of the video, and they buy things to take back. The bestsellers are herbal lamps, with calligraphy or paintings—unique stuff.”

Even while they chatted, Yang Jie had already served several customers.

“Plenty even ask for custom drawings. Sometimes just the two of us can’t keep up.”

He looked at Fan Qing with a grin. “I think we’re still offering too little. Remember that paper sculpture you mentioned…”

Quite a change from the Li Boss who once only sold notebooks and postcards.

Fan Qing thought for a moment. “We can try, but it’s pretty technical. We won’t manage anything too complicated.”

“I’ve already started learning online,” Li Hongkuo said.

When Luan Ye and Fan Qing both turned to look at him, he scratched his head a little awkwardly.

“I was originally planning to find a professional master, but we don’t have one here. So I found some videos online and learned that way. I’ve been practicing for a few weeks now—I can carve some simple things.”

“You’re pretty talented.” Luan Ye said with a smile.

Fan Qing added, “The shapes of the paper lanterns can also be changed—square, round, irregular. As for bamboo weaving, that’s definitely doable. And painting—if it’s too much to paint each one, we can carve wood stamps instead. Make a few different ones, and let the customers choose which design they want to print.”

“Like block printing,” Li Hongkuo said.

“Mm.” Fan Qing continued, “The size can also vary. For example, umbrellas and lanterns—they don’t have to be as big as the ones we normally use. Shrink them down, and they can be souvenirs.”

“Palm-sized.” Luan Ye said. “Add a magnet, and they could be fridge magnets. Or badges.”

“The paper colors can be varied too—dyed with plants, like tie-dye.”

This time Li Hongkuo’s mind caught on quickly. “I know a place—the town has a shop. Let’s go check it out this afternoon.”

“…No need to rush that much.” For the first time, Fan Qing felt like he was being outpaced in execution.

“Can’t help it, once business picks up I get all fired up.” Li Hongkuo laughed. “And when it gets even better, I want to try that thing you mentioned—”

He looked at Luan Ye. “Livestream selling.”

“You’ll do the selling?” Luan Ye asked.

“Of course not.” Li Hongkuo laughed. “I’ll hire a couple of young people then—like Fan Qing.”

“Hiring young people is easy. Finding someone like Fan Qing is the hard part,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing immediately turned his head to look at him.

Luan Ye raised his brows slightly and gave him a smile.

“Our Fan Qing is one of a kind.”

Fan Qing stared at him for a moment, then lowered his head and took a big gulp of tea.

The tea had already gone a little cold after all that talking—just enough to cool the heat that had rushed up inside him, threatening to ignite.

The two of them stayed in the workshop until dusk before heading back. Over the next few days, Luan Ye couldn’t be bothered to come again. As he put it: mysterious and warmhearted photographers usually don’t go out.

Fan Qing, on the other hand, was quite busy. He went to the workshop almost every day. New products needed to be designed, researched, and made… He’d even learned papermaking from Yang Jie.

On the day of the interview, quite a few people came. Besides the reporter, there were also cultural and tourism officials from the city and the town. With so many people wandering around, it was no wonder Li Hongkuo stammered a little when he spoke.

Still, the reporter was professional. Noticing Li Hongkuo’s nervousness, she quickly switched her approach, asking questions in a more casual, chatty way. She started from why he created “No Hurry,” then went on to its current development, the makeup of the team…

“Is this handsome young man also a member of the workshop staff?” In the middle of the chat, the reporter naturally turned to look at Fan Qing. “He looks very young.”

“…Sort of.” Fan Qing hesitated for two seconds. “I’ve only just started recently.”

“How old are you?”

Fan Qing almost blurted out “a few months short of nineteen,” but held it back just in time. “…Eighteen.”

“So young!” the reporter said.

“Just got into university,” Li Hongkuo added beside him. “Top student.”

Hearing that, the reporter’s eyes lit up noticeably. Fan Qing could feel her excitement at discovering a fresh angle.

“As a student, what made you decide to learn the intangible cultural heritage of papermaking?” the reporter asked. “Is it because you like it?”

“…Yes.” Fan Qing nodded.

You could say that.

Because he liked a mysterious and warmhearted photographer.