FQ chapter 55

The interview lasted quite a while. Besides the workshop staff, the local officials were also interviewed. The article came out quickly—just two days later, Li Hongkuo had already reposted it on his Moments.

It included some photos taken by Luan Ye. Before Luan Ye agreed to use a pseudonym, Fan Qing had been worried the credit might read: “Photos by a mysterious and warmhearted photographer…”

But in the end, it was credited as Yi Mu, just as Luan Ye had said.

Photography: Yi Mu.

There were also some photos taken by the reporter—some of the papermaking process, and a group photo of the workshop staff. Fan Qing stood at the very edge, unsmiling, looking serious.

“Pretty handsome,” Luan Ye commented. “A young entrepreneur.”

Fan Qing closed the article. “The young entrepreneur’s already gone off for training.”

Later, more waves of reporters came—some from the city, even the province. At first, Li Hongkuo still got nervous, but once he realized the questions were always about the same things, he grew more relaxed and eloquent.

Luan Ye’s guess was right. It was clear the local authorities valued this project, even inviting Li Hongkuo to attend a seminar on integrating intangible cultural heritage with cultural tourism. He would exchange ideas with teachers from other places, learn advanced cultural tourism concepts, and as an “outstanding inheritor,” share his own development history and insights. It all sounded very prestigious.

The seminar was in the city, and it would last three or four days. Before leaving, Li Hongkuo drafted and revised a four- or five-page speech—whether he used it or not was another matter.

Once he left, the studio was left in the hands of Fan Qing and Yang Jie. When it got busy, Luan Ye would also stop by—acting half as a salesperson, half as the workshop’s tea-drinking mascot, parked there the whole day until Yang Jie closed up in the evening.

Most of the visitors came because they’d seen the videos. Taking photos outside the studio was free, but most people still bought something.

Fan Qing had just finished packing a paper lantern for a customer when he turned around and saw two young girls holding cameras, asking if they could take a photo with Luan Ye.

He immediately wanted to walk over—but the next second, Luan Ye nodded and flashed a peace sign at the camera.

Fan Qing froze.

The girls happily snapped their photo and thanked him.

“Since you’ve already taken a photo, why not buy something too?” Luan Ye said with a smile. “These are intangible heritage products—very meaningful souvenirs.”

“Are you an employee? Do you get commission if we buy something?” one of the girls asked.

“There’s a reward,” Luan Ye replied. Tilting his head toward Fan Qing not far away, he added, “That boss over there pays me daily.”

What the hell are you saying?!

Fan Qing glared at him. The two girls glanced over at him, then actually nodded. “Alright, do you have any recommendations?”

Luan Ye looked straight at him. “Boss Fan, recommendations?”

“…”

Fan Qing walked over and introduced the products one by one. The two girls couldn’t decide and in the end bought two of everything—leaving with a big bag, satisfied.

“Over a thousand.” Yang Joe exclaimed with excitement. “Young people these days really don’t hold back.”

“Well, they’re traveling,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing didn’t say anything. Only when the shop was temporarily quiet, and Yang Joe went off to check on the bark she had boiled yesterday to see if it was ready to be pounded, did he turn his gaze back on Luan Ye.

The moment their eyes met, Luan Ye raised his brows slightly.

“So, where’s my reward, Boss Fan?” Luan Ye sat back in his chair, voice low enough that only the two of them could hear. “That was over a thousand.”

Fan Qing didn’t answer. He quickly checked the surroundings.

No customers for now.

Yang Jie’s back was to them, and the sheets of paper drying in the courtyard blocked some of the view.

Fan Qing pulled back his gaze, pressed a hand against Luan Ye’s chin, and suddenly leaned down to kiss him—tongue slipping past his lips to sweep through his mouth—then released him and leaned back.

Luan Ye stared wide-eyed at him, stunned into silence.

“Did you eat candied fruit?” Fan Qing asked. “It’s sweet and sour.”

“…What the hell!”

Luan Ye finally burst out laughing, cursing in a low voice. “Are you crazy? You scared me!”

Aside from the redness creeping up his ears, Fan Qing’s tone was much calmer.

“Not every time has to be you scaring me.”

He hadn’t controlled his volume much. Yang Jie, who was coming back through the courtyard with the bark, overheard and asked, “What scared you?”

What scared him?

The great photographer Luan Ye had been scared by a lightning-fast kiss.

“Nothing,” Luan Ye quickly answered, glancing at Fan Qing with a smile. “We were talking about the papaya candied fruit you brought. Fan Qing didn’t get any.”

“Oh, it’s on the counter!” Yang Joe said. “Help yourself!”

“Got it!” Fan Qing replied with a laugh.

No Hurry usually stayed open until seven or eight in the evening. Yang Jie’s home was in the town.

“Better let our young entrepreneur hire two more staff for his enterprise,” Luan Ye sighed on the way back.

“Otherwise, when we both leave, what’ll happen to the studio? Can’t just close down, right?”

“He’s already looking,” Fan Qing said as he drove. “He wants to find people who are a bit professional—good at livestreaming, but who also genuinely like papermaking.”

“Pretty professional of him.” Luan Ye clicked his tongue.

When they got back to Xuehu Village, Fan Qing parked and turned to him.

“Heading home?”

“Let’s take a walk.” Luan Ye replied.

Night was falling, and Xuehu Village’s lights were dim. The streets were quiet and empty. In the distance, the outline of the snow-capped mountains blurred into the horizon. The two of them walked on side by side.

Along the road were water channels filled with weeds and fallen leaves, stone-paved paths, tall lush trees, an old stage with burnt-out bulbs.

A coffee shop, the Go See the Mountains bar, all sorts of little shops selling quirky trinkets. Someone strummed a guitar under the big tree. Down the lane was a bookstore, turn the corner and you’d reach Granny Mu’s house.

Everything was hushed and still, only their footsteps breaking the silence—a steady rhythm that somehow felt reassuring.

“Have you figured out how you want to film it?” Fan Qing asked. “That promotional video.”

Luan Ye looked at him, then after a moment said, “I never said I’d film it.”

“You’ve circled around several times without saying a word, even stopped to stare at a few places,” Fan Qing said with a smile.

“And usually, you can’t refuse these kinds of things.”

“Why not?” Luan Ye asked.

“Because you’re… a good person.” Fan Qing hesitated, unable to find a better word.

“Isn’t it a little late to hand me a ‘good person card’ now?” Luan Ye asked.

“Kind, soft-hearted, especially toward people and things that have something to do with you,” Fan Qing finished the rest of the thought.

“You’ve lived here this long, met so many people—you’d definitely agree.”

Luan Ye just smiled without replying. After a while, he finally spoke.

“We’ll definitely film it, but how to film it, that needs a script.”

He continued walking slowly forward.

“Shooting a promo film for a whole place isn’t as simple as just filming papermaking. Where do we start, where do we end? What things, which people are the most distinctive? How many establishing shots so it doesn’t feel too packed, how many events so it doesn’t feel too empty…”

He stopped on a small arched bridge.

“For example, the promo film I want to make is A Day in Xuehu Village.”

“Mhm.” Fan Qing nodded.

“The first day of the month or the fifteenth, six in the morning. Granny Mu and the other elderly women wake up, put on their ethnic clothes, and come out of their homes one by one. They gather together and head to the ancestral hall to burn incense and chant scriptures.”

Fan Qing followed along in his imagination.

At that time, the morning light was just breaking, the mountain air a little chilly. A thin mist still lingered, leaving the world fresh and clean. The local ethnic chanting rose and fell in tone, merging together, and by the time they finished twice, the sunlight had just landed on them.

“Ten in the morning, most of the village shops are open. Embroidery, tie-dye, the general store, bookstore, cafés… The flower pastry shop at the entrance of the village would just be taking its first batch out of the oven, and the fragrance spreads far.”

As if the sunlight itself was filled with the scent of rose petals and flaky pastries.

Luan Ye chuckled. “Sometimes it feels like I can smell it even upstairs.”

“Li Ge’s café starts roasting beans then too, the smell’s pretty strong. Every time I go for a stroll I can smell it—really wakes you up. Usually that’s also when Laifu starts begging by the roadside.”

“Spare it already,” Fan Qing laughed. “Last check-up, the doctor said it had actually lost weight.”

Luan Ye laughed a bit, then continued.

“By afternoon, the bookstores and such are open too. On sunny days, the light is perfect then—you can see the snowy mountains from the second floor of almost every window. Sunlight spills onto the streets and into the rooms. Sometimes a breeze blows, lifting the tie-dyed fabrics hanging along the walls.”

Sunlight, snow mountains, a gentle breeze, fabrics of every color fluttering. Someone leads a horse through, the bells jingling noisily.

“By evening, the bars open. Most of them are pretty quiet, like that ‘Go See The Mountains’ place—singers with guitars, some places light a bonfire, beat hand drums.”

“At night, the village is peaceful. Not many people come out, but some take walks—from the head of the village all the way to the end, past the big tree, the arched bridge, the old stage…”

“And then sneak in a kiss at the old stage,” Luan Ye added.

Fan Qing smiled at him. Just then, a breeze drifted past, ruffling their hair. In the soft light, Luan Ye’s eyes were bright with laughter.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Very simple, very quiet,” Fan Qing answered softly. “And very happy.”

“That’s exactly the feeling.” Luan Ye reached out, hooked his pinky around Fan Qing’s, and then clasped his whole hand, fingers interlacing.

“Since I came here, it’s been that feeling.”

The moon leapt above the mountains, its outline growing bright. They started walking back.

“Sounds like there’s a lot to film,” Fan Qing said.

“That’s just a draft. The actual thing will be more complicated than me talking it through.”

“Can you handle it all?” Fan Qing frowned.

Even if he could help with some things, the filming itself was something only Luan Ye could do.

“I can’t shoot it alone, it’s too complicated,” Luan Ye said with a smile. “It’s fine—extra labor is arriving in a few days.”

It took Fan Qing a few seconds to react. “Your friend?”

“Mm, Xu Song.”

Fan Qing couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Isn’t he coming here on vacation?”

“He fell into my hands already,” Luan Ye grinned, completely justified, like a local tyrant. “Experiencing the local culture is also a kind of vacation—deep travel.”

Fan Qing chuckled, nodding. “Oh.”

“In a few days, Li Hongkuo will be back too. He can take us to talk with the villagers—mainly you talking,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing glanced up.

“No need to pay them, but it’s best to draft a simple contract. Materials, themes, what they expect it to look like, what effect they want—clarify everything from the start.”

“Mm.” Fan Qing nodded.

“Once that’s settled, the filming is entirely up to me. However it turns out, that’s it. No reshoots. And I can’t—”

“Can’t guarantee it’ll be as popular as the papermaking one,” Fan Qing finished.

So sharp.

Luan Ye nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

“The papermaking video may have gone viral because of the algorithm, or novelty for young people, plus the current heritage craze… There are a lot of reasons. I can’t promise that kind of uncertainty.”

“I can only promise I’ll shoot it in the best way I can think of.”

“Got it. I’ll handle the talks with them,” Fan Qing nodded. “Will you go too?”

“I should at least go once, out of respect. But you talking is enough.”

They reached the front door. Luan Ye let go of Fan Qing for a moment to push it open.

“Got to maintain the photographer’s mystique.”

They were still laughing as they entered the courtyard. Looking up, they saw Granny Mu hanging laundry.

She gave the coat in her hands a couple of shakes and asked, “Back already?”

“Yeah,” Luan Ye walked in.

Fan Qing hesitated for two seconds, then followed.

Granny Mu didn’t think much of it anymore. She turned to him with a grin. “Xiao Qing, here to play with Luan Ye again?”

She said it like they were two schoolboys meeting after class to play with slingshots.

Luan Ye burst out laughing, glancing at Fan Qing. Fan Qing’s expression mixed embarrassment with resignation. He nodded to her: “Mm, I had something to discuss with him.”

“Still that papermaking thing?” By now, she more or less knew.

“Have you eaten? I can cook you some rice noodles.”

“We’ve eaten,” Luan Ye said with a smile, rescuing Fan Qing. “We’ll head up—you should rest early.”

The two schoolboys went upstairs together, and Luan Ye was still laughing as they shut the door.

Fan Qing closed it, turned, and frowned helplessly. “Is it really that funny?”

“‘Xiao Qing, always coming to play with me,’” Luan Ye was in stitches. “Can’t you focus on your studies instead?”

“…silly..”

Fan Qing couldn’t help but laugh too. He leaned over, wrapped his arm around Luan Ye’s waist, and kissed him.

Focus on studies?

Impossible.

He was busy falling in love.