Author Archives: Thingyan

The distant hillside was densely packed with a sea of Nitean little people. They led red pigs, some holding large leaves, slowly making their way toward the inn.

As soon as Lu Yao appeared, the entire procession seemed to freeze, as if someone had hit the “pause” button.

After a brief silence, a few little people riding red pigs detached from the group, huffing and puffing as they ran toward the inn.

Lu Yao recognized a few familiar faces and crouched down with a smile, waiting for them to approach.

Monk was the first to rush up to her. “Lu Yao, Lu Yao, we’re here for food!”

This guy had zero reservations.

Behind him, Zhuang Yu, Dada, and other members of the hunting team trickled up to the inn’s entrance, all greeting Lu Yao in turn.

The hunting team leader, Liyan, approached and quietly explained the situation.

It turned out that about half of their tribe would be arriving at the inn in waves.

This migration was long and arduous; they were already exhausted and then caught in a torrential rainstorm. Half the group was scattered, and their belongings and food had been completely soaked.

Liyan requested that this half of the tribe be allowed to rest under the inn’s eaves.

The downpour had just subsided, leaving the valley muddy and treacherous.

The little people, drenched and looking like bedraggled chicks, stood at a distance, hesitant to move closer.

Lu Yao waved to them and turned to head back into the inn.

The hunting team, now reassured, returned to spread the word and ease the tribe’s worries. They began escorting the rest of the group to the inn’s shelter while dispatching half their members to retrieve the scattered tribespeople.

The inn’s other guests, upon hearing about the red pig tribe outside, immediately thought of the migration.

They couldn’t sit still anymore, hurrying down via the lift to peek under the eaves.

When the little people of the red pig tribe saw familiar faces emerge from the inn, their intense unease eased a little.

Lu Yao rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out two packs of spiral-shaped pasta. She handed them to Xiao Zheng. “Cook all of this. Make a big pan of tomato meat sauce and a pot of seaweed and bean sprout soup—be sure to chop the seaweed and sprouts finely. Qingyan, Bai Lu, help prepare the ingredients. Oh, and cut up that can of yellow peaches too. I’ll go check outside.”

Lu Yao grabbed a few large towels, laying them out on the ground outside.

The little people approached cautiously, their wide eyes filled with wonder.

A real big person!

Having interacted with little people from various tribes, Lu Yao was experienced in handling these situations.

She tossed the towels and casually went back inside, as if she wasn’t at all concerned about their arrival.

The hunting team—along with Monk, Dada, Zhuang Yu, and the inn’s other guests—welcomed the hesitant, weary little people at the door.

Although the ground under the eaves was damp, it was much better than the muddy puddles below the steps.

At first, the little people instinctively avoided the spots where Lu Yao had laid the towels. The red pigs, however, had no such reservations, prancing about on the soft towels before finding a clean, comfortable spot to plop down and stay put.

The little people tending to the pigs gingerly stepped onto the towels, only to be astonished by how much softer they were compared to their own tanned hides. Even more surprisingly, the towels carried a pleasant, fragrant scent.

One by one, they began sprawling across the towels, lying in disarray, and closing their eyes in peace. Their exhausted bodies and minds finally found a brief respite.

From behind the inn’s massive walls came the sizzling sound of cooking, accompanied by a tangy, mouthwatering aroma that wafted into the air.

The little people, who had almost drifted off on the cozy towels, suddenly sat bolt upright. Wiping at their mouths, they realized drool was already trickling down their chins.

So Fragrant!

They had never smelled anything so mouthwatering!

What is this?

When Lu Yao came out carrying a giant pot of meat sauce pasta, she saw the dirty Nitean little people scattered like peanuts across the towels, either sitting or lying down.

She tapped the pot with a spoon. “Dinner time! Line up at the door to get your food.”

All the little people raised their heads to look at her, their eyes as bright and round as black grapes.

Lu Yao tilted her head back to take a deep breath, then lowered it, her face calm as she directed them to line up.

She set up a long wooden plank at the door, dividing it into three serving stations.

Yunwei and Zhu Zhou manned one station, Jiexiang and Ziye the second, and Lu Yao and Heici the third.

Lu Yao, being the “big person,” sat on a low stool in the corner to assist.

The staff of the snack shop had prepared disposable mini utensils specifically for Lu Yao’s new inn in the Nitean world. The utensils were biodegradable, vanishing after three days.

Lu Yao handed trays to Heici, who wore heat-resistant gloves and carefully placed a single spiral pasta coated in rich tomato meat sauce onto each tray. Lu Yao then added a lidded cup of seaweed and bean sprout soup to the corner of each tray.

Qingyan, Xiao Zheng, and Bai Lu couldn’t cross the star portal, so they worked on the back end, packing the soup. One carefully used a dropper to scoop the soup, another cautiously used tweezers to place the lids, and the last delivered the trays to the door.

It was a smooth, almost toy-like assembly line operation.

The other two stations, managed by Yunwei’s team and Jiexiang’s team, also operated in an orderly fashion.

The little people of the Red Pig Tribe quickly grasped the concept of lining up. Once they received their meals, they gathered in groups of three or five around the towels, placing their trays in front of them.

They leaned over to blow on the hot food, cautiously licking the sauce first before brightening up and enthusiastically digging in.

The more carefree ones, like Monk, simply sat down wherever they were, blew on the food half-heartedly, and, finding it too hot to hold, leaned down to eat straight off the tray.

“This is so good!”

“What is it? Why does it smell so amazing?”

Monk bellowed, “Lu Yao’s cooking is even better than anything in the Xiaguang Tribe!”

Monk had never actually eaten in the Xiaguang Tribe, but that didn’t stop him from confidently “dissing” them.

Other little people overheard and turned to look toward the inn’s entrance, where the big person known as Lu Yao stood.

Lu Yao wanted to cover her face in embarrassment.

Monk, you’re too blindly loyal.

As the pot of pasta emptied, the line outside remained long.

For the Nitean little people, a single piece of spiral pasta was enough for a full meal, especially when paired with a bowl of soup.

But that didn’t stop the greedy ones—they polished off their trays, licked them clean, and then queued up again, holding their spotless trays with wide, innocent eyes as they obediently waited at the back.

Lu Yao turned and called, “Xiao Zheng, cook two more packs of pasta.”

Bai Lu chimed in, “Zheng already went to do that—the tomato meat sauce smells incredible.”

Lu Yao nodded. “Tell him to make extra. You guys can eat here tonight, too, and head back afterward. Are the peaches ready?”

Bai Lu handed over the sliced peaches.

Lu Yao took the bowl and began serving them.

After distributing the “swirly food,” as the little people called it, Lu Yao handed out sweet peaches.

The little people, now stuffed, were torn—they were full, but the food was too delicious to resist.

They huddled into groups of three or five, sending one representative to stand in line for peaches, which they carefully divided among themselves.

By the time the second batch of pasta was ready, the inn’s walls were lined with little people lying on their backs, their bellies bulging. Looking across, their stomachs resembled rolling hills.

Lu Yao couldn’t resist snapping a photo and posting it in the employee group chat.

[Lu Yao: Free-spirited and uninhibited.]

[Hot Springs Inn Bai Lu: Oh my god!!! Why are they so adorable!!!]

[Hot Springs Inn Qingyan: [Cat laughing hysterically.jpg]]

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi: Quick, I need a blood transfusion!]

[Little Pet Cafe Ji Zhixin: [Facepalm.jpg] Piao Piao is jealous and wants me to take a picture of him too.]

[Little Pet Cafe Ji Zhixin: [Chubby seal belly photo.jpg]]

[Nail Salon Harold: @Little Pet Cafe Piao Piao Chubby, fighting over everything will only hurt you in the end.]

[Nail Salon Si Jin: @Nail Salon Harold, isn’t that comment a bit inappropriate?]

[Interdimensional Cinema Ming Shi: Is this from a new film? They’re so adorable.]

[Blind Box Shop Xue Ge: Lilly is right—they really do look delicious!]

…

After posting the picture, Lu Yao quietly retreated.

The large hot spring area was already halfway built, with the pool and piping installed. She noticed many of the little people’s clothes were dry, but their faces, hair, and bodies were still speckled with mud.

She filled several large basins with hot spring water, placing them in the male and female bath areas, and called out for anyone who wanted to bathe to line up.

The well-fed, sprawled-out little people stirred at the sound. Some refused to get up, rolling over before closing their eyes again, while others slowly climbed to their feet, shuffling to grab their clothes and prepare for a bath.

While the little people were eating and bathing, none seemed willing to enter the inn to rest. Even Monk and his group stayed huddled under the eaves.

As night fell, Nitean nights grew cold.

Lu Yao went to the storage area and brought out several sturdy delivery boxes. She cut small light holes into them, lined the interiors with soft blankets, and laid them sideways under the eaves with a rock on top to weigh them down.

By nightfall, freshly bathed and chilly little people automatically rolled into the boxes, just like chicks returning to their nests.

The red pigs needed no coaxing; they huddled together in the boxes, shivering in clusters.

After hours of chatter, the human staff each had a large plate of tomato meat sauce pasta for dinner before clocking out for the night. The inn’s guests also returned to their rooms to rest.

Jiexiang and Ziye, who didn’t make it back before dark, were given a guest room by Lu Yao.

The pair didn’t head straight to their room, instead opting to stay in the dining hall, devouring more pasta.

Earlier, Jiexiang had practically drooled all over the floor while helping serve meals. At one point, she couldn’t resist sneaking a dab of meat sauce with her finger. That one taste instantly dethroned the canned peaches as her all-time favorite.

Their dinner was also tomato meat sauce pasta. After finishing one piece, Jiexiang’s belly was already bulging. Yet, she insisted Ziye join her for a walk to digest the food, only to return for a second helping.

Lu Yao watched from the side, worried Jiexiang might eat until she made herself sick.

Jiexiang split her pasta in half and insisted Ziye share it with her. Ziye hesitated, acting as though he was reluctant, though his grin nearly reached his ears.

Lu Yao witnessed it all: “…”

After polishing off their second piece of pasta, Jiexiang and Ziye finally returned to their room to rest.

Lu Yao tidied up the dining hall, then grabbed a book and settled under a lamp to read.

In the kitchen, the water bottles were filled, and all the ingredients and seasonings were prepped and ready for the next meal.

Meanwhile, in their guest room, Jiexiang and Ziye finished washing up and climbed into bed.

Jiexiang tucked her hands under the blanket and stared at the white ceiling. “Today feels like a dream.”

Ziye: “Mm.”

Jiexiang: “Yuanwei, A’dai, and Hudie are all building nests outside the inn. It’s going to get lively here.”

Ziye turned to his side, holding Jiexiang’s hand. “Do you… also want to stay here?”

Jiexiang turned to face him. “Don’t you?”

Ziye: “Mm, I do too.”

Jiexiang: “Should we move here?”

Ziye: “Should we ask Lu Yao first?”

Jiexiang waved her hand dismissively. “She’s so nice; she’ll definitely say yes.”

Ziye: “…Mm.”

…

In the middle of the night, Lu Yao faintly heard the sound of wind howling. She set her book down and stepped outside.

Half of the Red Pig tribe’s scattered members and hunting team were making their way along the wide, illuminated road toward the inn.

They were so small, trudging through the night like a field of rolling potatoes. Lu Yao couldn’t make out the expressions on their faces, but their eyes shone brightly in the dark.

She turned on the large lights under the eaves, left the door wide open, and went to the kitchen to light the stove and start cooking noodles.

The meat sauce and soup were kept warm on the stove; once the pasta was boiled, the meal could be served.

Even before reaching the eaves, the little Red Pig tribe could smell the mouthwatering aroma wafting through the air, making their stomachs rumble.

The old clan chief, riding a Red Pig, gazed toward the inn in the distance and asked Liyan, “Is that the lair of the big human?”

Liyan corrected him, “That’s Lu Yao’s inn. I asked her to help care for the tribe.”

The old chief lowered his head and said no more.

As they reached the eaves, they didn’t see their tribespeople at first, only a series of large, peculiar boxes arranged outside.

Monk, sleeping in the box closest to the door, groggily woke at the noise. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and called out, “Clan Chief, Captain.”

Liyan strode over and lifted one corner of a box, revealing their tribespeople packed inside, sound asleep.

Lu Yao had finished preparing the late-night meal and came out just in time to see Monk. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “Monk, get a few people to help distribute the food.”

The number of little people arriving at the inn that night was no fewer than those who had arrived in the afternoon. Lu Yao couldn’t manage it all on her own.

Monk woke up Dada and Zhuang Yu , then found a few other familiar companions. Having seen the meal distribution process earlier, they quickly grasped the task after a brief explanation from Lu Yao, eagerly taking it on with enthusiasm.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ever since Lu Yao brought hot spring water to the inn and started working on the hot spring pavilion, she hadn’t gone up the mountain in days.

On the hot spring flowering tree, Jiexiang woke up and immediately ran outside, leaning on a branch to look down below.

Ziye rubbed his eyes as he walked out. “She’s been at the stone forest lately. Maybe she won’t come up the mountain anymore.”

After becoming partners, they had traveled to many places before finding this haven.

Thanks to the hot spring, this area remained warmer than others even during the Twilight Season.

The Jiexiang couple had lived here for three years without encountering another of their kind. It often felt like they were the last two left in the world.

This year, their peaceful lives had been abruptly disrupted.

Ziye noticed how eagerly Jiexiang awaited the return of the big human and felt a faint pang of jealousy.

Jiexiang had always enjoyed lively places.

Ziye seemed to come to a major decision and walked over to Jiexiang. “Why don’t we… go find her?”

Jiexiang looked up, eyes wide with surprise, as though seeing him for the first time.

“You don’t dislike her anymore?”

Ziye lowered his head, fiddling with the corner of his shirt. “It’s not that I dislike her, just… just…”

Before he could finish, Jiexiang had already perked up, rolling up her sleeves. “Then let’s get ready!”

They went out to pick wild vegetables and flowers, carefully preparing a gift for their visit.

Jiexiang wanted to make fresh wild vegetable pancakes garnished with flowers. She was sure Lu Yao would be surprised.

From sunrise to noon, the two finally finished their preparations.

Carrying their meticulously wrapped gifts in leaf bundles, they slid down the tree and began their descent.

…

In the afternoon, thick clouds blanketed the sky.

The Hudie couple and A’dai couple each led a red pig, hauling the materials they had gathered for their homes under the inn’s eaves.

Jiegeng tucked his hands into his fur cloak, looking up. “It’s going to rain hard.”

Jinjin wore a troubled expression. “Why doesn’t Lu Yao let us build our houses directly under the inn?”

He disliked rainy weather; everything got damp, and it was easy to get soaked if you weren’t careful.

If their houses were under the inn’s eaves, there’d be no need to worry about rain or wind.

The smallfolk sighed like little elders, stacking their materials in a sheltered corner. They covered them with large, dried leaves and weighed them down with stones.

…

After traveling through mountains and streams from noon to late afternoon, Jiexiang and Ziye finally arrived at Thorn Valley.

The sight of the massive inn came into view. Wiping the sweat from their brows, they prepared for the final stretch.

Just as they reached the eaves, raindrops the size of beans began to pour down.

The two exhaled, looked at each other, and couldn’t help but laugh.

Carrying their gifts, they circled the inn’s base until they found the door, just as Zhu Zhou, returning early from the rain, arrived.

Jiexiang recognized Zhu Zhou. “We’re here to see Lu Yao.”

Zhu Zhou gave them a once-over. Not guests of the inn, he thought. Slowly, he walked over and pushed open the door, the bell above jingling softly.

Jiexiang and Ziye had observed the inn from afar but had never been this close. Everything seemed so new and fascinating.

The rain fell in streams, tapping rapidly on the ground like scattered beans.

Zhu Zhou led them inside and stood at the door, shouting, “Lu Yao! Lu Yao! Someone’s here to see you!”

Lu Yao emerged from the hot spring room next door. Looking down, she seemed surprised. “Did you get caught in the rain?”

Jiexiang and Ziye were still taking in their surroundings, snapping back to reality only when they heard her voice.

Ziye was still a little fearful of Lu Yao.

Jiexiang tilted her head up and nodded vigorously. “Almost got caught in the rain. We brought you some wild vegetable pancakes.”

The pancakes were neatly wrapped in leaves tied with dry grass and adorned with a thoughtful touch—a small purple flower.

Lu Yao couldn’t help but recall scenes from childhood cartoons. She squatted down and extended her hand. “Thank you.”

The rain outside grew heavier. Lu Yao invited the two onto the lift to go upstairs.

In the tea hall on the fourth floor, guests enjoying tea and snacks heard the commotion and leaned over the railing to look down.

Lu Yao introduced, “These are guests staying here. They’re upstairs having tea. Would you like to join them?”

The Jiexiang couple hadn’t expected so many other smallfolk to be at Lu Yao’s place. It had been ages since they’d seen their kind, so they eagerly agreed.

Lu Yao called for Zhu Zhou to take them upstairs. By then, Yuanwei was already brewing tea.

…

Upstairs, Jiexiang immediately spotted Jinjin with his cat-like ears, and Jinjin noticed her too.

Even though Xiaguang, Black Rock, and Red Pig were all large tribes, it wasn’t guaranteed that members of the same tribe knew each other.

Still, in this setting, even strangers from the same tribe felt a sense of kinship.

Ziye was also surprised to see A’dai with her light blonde hair.

The Shenmu tribe was relatively small, and intermarriage with other tribes was rare. Ziye himself was likely the only Shenmu smallfolk in the last five years to have been “abducted” into another tribe.

Seeing A’dai, he initially thought he’d encountered a fellow tribesperson. But as his gaze lowered and spotted the beast-horn marking on her neck, he realized she was a mixed-blood smallfolk.

…

In the kitchen, Lu Yao was contemplating what to serve her guests. She thought of Jiexiang and Ziye’s sweaty appearance when they arrived and glanced at a jar of canned yellow peaches in the cabinet.

Standing on her toes, she took down the large jar, opened it, cut a large peach slice into smaller pieces, and brought the fruit platter to the tea hall.

“I’ve prepared some canned yellow peaches. Give them a try.” Lu Yao placed the fruit platter in the middle of the table and pulled up a chair to sit.

The moment the fruit platter was set down, the sweet aroma of peaches instantly captivated all the smallfolk.

Jiexiang began salivating just from the sight of it. She was the first to grab a piece, taking a bite. The soft, sweet fruit made her eyes squint in delight.

Lu Yao hadn’t cut the pieces too small—they were about the size of mandarin orange wedges.

Each smallfolk grabbed a piece, hugged it close, and perched on the edge of the table, nibbling at it bit by bit.

The three human staff members paused their work, silently took out their phones, and started documenting the adorable scene of the smallfolk.

Qingyan passed by and gave Lu Yao a thumbs-up. The boss seemed to have an uncanny ability to discover new ways to entertain her guests.

…

Jiegeng, nibbling on his piece of peach, grew increasingly puzzled and couldn’t help but ask, “It’s still the Twilight Moon season—where did you get these fruits?”

In the world of Nitean, the seasons were clear-cut. Fruits as large and sweet as these were usually only found in the Harvest season of Sunshine.

Lu Yao explained, “These were picked last season. We peeled and cleaned them, cooked them in sugar syrup, and then sealed them for storage in a cool place. During Twilight and Breeze, they’re still good to eat.”

She tried to keep her explanation simple, skipping the complex theory, and concluded with, “It’s a secret technique of my people.” The smallfolk were fascinated.

Jiegeng, with wide eyes, took another bite of his fruit, savoring its soft sweetness without a hint of an odd taste.

The way bigfolk stored food was far more advanced than anything the Xiaguang tribe could manage.

If his tribe could preserve fruits like this, they wouldn’t have to worry about food shortages during the Twilight season.

Jiegeng began to entertain some ideas. He wanted to learn how to make canned food.

…

Jiexiang, munching on her peach, occasionally glanced at Jiegeng, who was lost in thought, her expression inquisitive.

Ziye squinted as he ate, and his peach slipped from his hands and rolled under the table.

Jiexiang turned to him, stunned, and stared for a while before saying, “Your fruit fell.”

Ziye slowly jumped down from his chair and bent over to pick it up.

Lu Yao saw him about to take a bite of the fallen piece and quickly stopped him. “There’s more on the table. Don’t eat that one.”

Ziye, unfazed, shook his head and took a bite anyway. “It’s fine. Still sweet.”

Lu Yao: “…”

She had clearly seen Ziye deliberately drop the fruit but couldn’t figure out why he would do such a thing.

Much, much later, Lu Yao unintentionally heard a little story from the cheerful and lively Jiexiang—

Jiexiang had grown up hearing tales of how the Xiaguang tribe excelled at crafting delicious food. She didn’t have many hobbies, but she loved eating, and the thought had stuck with her.

When she came of age, Jiexiang decided to join a trading caravan on an adventure.

Her plan was simple: to sneakily “abduct” a young, kind, and skilled cook from the Xiaguang tribe to be her partner.

However, that year, several newlywed couples from her group needed to visit the Shenmu tribe to seek blessings for a child. The caravan decided to head to the Shenmu tribe first, then detour to Xiaguang.

It was during this journey that Jiexiang met Ziye, who was serving at the Shenmu temple.

In the end, Jiexiang never made it to the Xiaguang tribe. Instead, she formed a bond with the golden-haired, handsome, and slightly clueless Ziye at the Shenmu tribe.

Ziye couldn’t cook, which initially annoyed Jiexiang.

But after gazing a bit longer at Ziye’s strikingly beautiful face and silky blonde hair, she would always find herself calming down.

…

Outside, the rain subsided intermittently. Jinjin and Jiexiang suddenly perked their ears and looked up at Lu Yao.

Lu Yao: “What is it?”

Jinjin and Jiexiang exchanged glances. “Someone’s coming. A lot of people.”

Lu Yao got up and walked outside. Standing under the eaves, she looked out into the distance.

Her eyes gradually widened.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Jiegeng and Hudie’s faces lit up with joy, and they nodded eagerly.

Lu Yao rose and walked toward them. “What’s on your mind?”

Hudie tilted her head up and hesitated before speaking. “We… we want to stay in Thorn Valley.”

This pair of smallfolk had been searching for a suitable place to build their nest. After two days in Thorn Valley, exploring the surrounding area, they decided this was where they wanted to settle.

However, since this was a big human’s territory, they had hesitated to bring it up.

Would the big human even allow smallfolk to live near her domain?

Lu Yao was a bit surprised and looked down at the female smallfolk named Hudie. “Why do you want to live in my territory?”

Hudie answered straightforwardly, “Because it’s safe here.”

For smallfolk from different tribes to bond as partners, they must leave their respective tribes. Once they leave, they face risks, lacking safety and consistent food supplies.

Living near the inn, protected by a big human, was far safer than surviving alone in the wilderness.

Lu Yao asked, “May I ask which tribe you’re from?”

Hudie paused slightly before answering honestly, “My father is from the Black Rock Tribe, and my mother is from the Red Pig Tribe.”

So, she was of mixed heritage.

Lu Yao’s curiosity was piqued. “I’ve never met anyone from the Black Rock Tribe. Do you have their traits?”

Hudie nodded and rolled up her animal-skin sleeve past her elbow, revealing a small patch of bluish scales on her forearm.

“The Black Rock Tribe’s territory is by the sea,” Hudie explained.

Her parents were both strong and capable individuals. Despite being from different tribes, they successfully bore a child, Hudie.

As an adult, Hudie met Jiegeng, a smallfolk from the Xiaguang Tribe. The two became partners and, like her parents, wandered this land together.

After hearing their romantic story, Lu Yao smiled warmly and agreed. “I’d be delighted to have you as neighbors. Feel free to choose a spot to build your home.”

Hudie and Jiegeng exchanged looks, almost unable to believe it.

Had she really agreed so easily?

Hudie couldn’t help but confirm, “I mean, we want to live in Thorn Valley. We’d like to build our nest near the inn.”

Lu Yao nodded. “I understand. Just make sure to avoid the main roads and the train tracks.”

Realizing they’d been granted permission, Hudie and Jiegeng hugged each other and began jumping around in joy.

…

On the fourth floor of the second guest room area, a smallfolk with orange cat ears couldn’t contain his excitement. “We want to live here too!”

He had overheard the conversation.

Lu Yao inclined her head. “Then there’ll be two households as neighbors now.”

The cat-eared smallfolk hurried back to his room and shook his companion, who was lying in bed. “A’dai! Lu Yao said we can live in her territory!”

His companion, A’dai, was also of mixed heritage, with traits from both the Shenmu Tribe and the Red Pig Tribe. She had light golden hair and a beast horn mark below her neck.

A’dai had been resting but sat up at the news. “What’s going on?”

The cat-eared smallfolk, named Jinjin, couldn’t hide his excitement. His ears twitched back and forth as he spoke.

When A’dai heard Hudie and Jiegeng would also be staying, she became just as thrilled. She tossed off her blanket and got out of bed. “Let’s go talk to them.”

As rebels who had left their tribes, they rarely dared to speak to smallfolk from other tribes during their journey, relying solely on their companions for support.

The first time engaging in deep conversation with smallfolk who shared similar experiences, and discussing topics of mutual interest, drew in the attention of the Iris couple halfway through. The group chatted animatedly well into the night before finally dispersing.

…

At dawn the next morning, the two couples woke up especially early.

They didn’t even bother with breakfast and rushed to find Lu Yao, eager for her to accompany them to choose a site for their new homes.

Now that Lu Yao had agreed to let them live in Thorn Valley, they felt completely at ease and uninhibited around her.

Lu Yao, still groggy and barely awake, faced four pairs of sparkling, expectant eyes. Stifling a yawn, she turned to them. “Hold on, let me wash my face.”

When Lu Yao emerged freshly dressed, the little ones were neatly lined up on the first shelf of the kitchen spice rack, their short legs dangling as they waited.

Lu Yao’s sleepiness vanished immediately. She picked up the four smallfolk in one swoop, cradling them in her palms as she headed outside. “I’ll get us there faster.”

Jinjin’s “scream” got caught in his throat, muffled by her words.

Hudie clung tightly to Lu Yao’s thumb, his face as pale as a sheet.

Jiegeng and A’dai, on the other hand, seemed calmer, gently bracing themselves against her fingers.

…

As they stepped outside the inn, the sky had just begun to lighten, a faint white glow spreading at the horizon.

Standing in the palm of a “giant,” overlooking the vast landscape, they marveled at the sight of rolling mountains resembling waves.

Hudie exclaimed in excitement, “So high, so amazing!”

What would have been a long trek for the smallfolk was just a few steps for Lu Yao.

She soon reached the wide, open ground beside the inn and set them down gently.

Lu Yao had expected them to deliberate carefully and take their time choosing a location.

Instead, as soon as Hudie landed, she dragged Jiegeng to a corner of the inn wall and marked out a boundary with a twig. “We’ll build our house right here!”

Meanwhile, A’dai and Jinjin quickly picked a spot behind Hudie’s plot, also hugging the inn wall.

Lu Yao couldn’t make sense of their preference for sticking close to the wall but could already envision a future where a ring of smallfolk houses encircled the inn.

She crouched down, picked up a twig, and drew new boundaries 40 centimeters away from the inn’s foundation. “The eaves will need drainage channels underneath, and it’ll be too damp to live near the wall. Hudie, how about moving your plot here? I’ll help you lay the foundation and pave the area. A’dai, your house can go here—neighbors on both sides, how nice!”

Given Thorn Valley’s low terrain, rainwater wasn’t a major issue for the inn, but smallfolk houses needed special attention.

Hudie and A’dai were insistent on staying close to the inn, and it took Lu Yao quite a bit of convincing before they reluctantly agreed to move their plots slightly farther from the wall.

Having stayed in the inn’s rooms, they were now filled with ideas for their future homes, though they hadn’t made any real progress yet.

Even during breakfast, they continued discussing it enthusiastically.

…

Hearing that the others had already chosen home sites, Yuanwei felt a twinge of longing.

While living in the dorms was comfortable, she occasionally missed their old home.

She brought it up with Zhu Zhou, and together they approached Lu Yao, expressing their desire to build a new home near the inn as well.

Lu Yao marked out a plot for them next to A’dai’s and even preemptively set aside space for another plot beside it.

By noon, Heici came to Lu Yao, saying he wanted to live near his kin too.

Lu Yao took him outside to show him his designated plot.

Heici, who was used to living in caves, stared blankly at the open ground and then turned to Lu Yao, looking lost and bewildered.

Lu Yao couldn’t help laughing. “Do you need my help?”

Heici responded firmly and loudly, “Yes!”

…

As the smallfolk enthusiastically started planning their new homes, Lu Yao didn’t jump in to help right away. She wanted to observe how they built houses on their own.

The Red Pig Tribe typically lived in caves, using straw to shield against wind and cold. However, this flatland didn’t allow for digging caves.

The Luo Xiong Tribe preferred building houses from stones, wood, and mud, but A’dai was enamored with the clean, delicate style of the inn’s architecture—something Jinjin couldn’t replicate.

Hudie noted that the Black Rock Tribe liked to build under large rocks and use wide leaves for weather protection. While this worked well during the Sunshine, Spring, and Breeze Seasons, it was less suitable for the Twilight Moon Season.

Yuanwei mentioned that the Xiaguang Tribe liked living in tree hollows or among branches, choosing sturdy roots or wide branches for their homes. However, the saplings Lu Yao had transplanted around the inn were too thin and short to meet their needs.

The smallfolk grew increasingly frustrated.

Lu Yao, watching their struggles, couldn’t stop chuckling. Without offering hints, she went off to collect stones and quietly continued building her hot spring pool.

That afternoon, two new guests arrived at the inn.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Lu Yao didn’t have lunch at the inn that day.

With Fu Chi resigning, the cinema staff organized a farewell banquet from Fuxianju, reserving three tables. Naturally, as the boss, Lu Yao had to attend.

The cinema had already closed for the day. When Lu Yao arrived, she ran into the waitstaff at Fuxianju’s entrance. They informed her that they would return the next morning to collect the empty plates and food boxes.

She headed straight to the third floor, where the banquet was already set up.

After taking her seat, Lu Yao said a few words, followed by Fu Chi.

Zhu Zhu, Wen Jian, Gouzi, and Kuba—all among the earliest staff members—looked at Fu Chi with expressions full of sadness.

At first, they had been drawn to his striking appearance and the inexplicable aura he carried.

As they got to know him, they discovered that not only was Fu Chi good-looking, but he was also exceptionally knowledgeable—completely unlike the scholars of Great Wu Dynasty.

When Lu Yao was away, Fu Chi managed the day-to-day affairs of the cinema.

Whenever the staff had questions, he always had the answers.

What Fu Chi didn’t know was that he had amassed a small group of admirers in Great Wu Dynasty, including a number of young women secretly harboring affection for him.

However, his reserved demeanor and “keep your distance” aura meant no one dared to confess to him openly.

Led by Lu Yao, the staff all toasted Fu Chi.

The pear blossom wine from Fuxianju carried a pleasant floral fragrance, was light in alcohol, and unlikely to cause inebriation.

Die Qi, Jin Lu, Qi Wu, Shui Shan, Ming Shi, Tai Er, and Kuba—all the “small digits” staff—took turns offering him a toast.

Most had benefited from Fu Chi’s guidance in areas such as bookkeeping, guest reception, operating machinery, cooking, and even photography and filming.

Kuba, Tai Er, and Yiyi even called him their mentor. Fu Chi had not only taught them filming techniques but also gifted them a full set of equipment.

Once Fu Chi left, the responsibility of managing advertisements and shooting videos for the cinema would fall to these three.

Die Qi was set to take over Fu Chi’s position, becoming the new assistant manager.

Thanks to the intranet system, which had officially transitioned from beta testing to full use, the staff could still contact Fu Chi if they had questions—or if they simply missed him.

Though the wine was mild, it couldn’t withstand the reckless toasts.

Kuba, drunk with his pink-dyed hair askew, clung to Fu Chi, sobbing uncontrollably.

Die Qi sat off to the side, discreetly wiping away tears, while Tai Er thoughtfully took out his phone to record a short video.

Lu Yao didn’t drink much, watching the others cry and make a scene with an amused expression.

As the night deepened and one by one they fell asleep in various positions, Lu Yao got up and expertly began tidying up.

Those with families had already left after dinner, making it home before the curfew.

The small digits and a few of Gouzi’s group, now completely passed out, lay sprawled on the floor. Lu Yao carried the women and men separately to the rest area, carefully covering them with blankets.

…

Fu Chi stood by the second-floor window, a cigarette unlit between his fingers. His gaze lingered on the view outside, filled with a trace of longing but mostly relief.

Lu Yao walked over and stood beside him. Sincerely, she said, “Congratulations—you’re cured.”

Fu Chi turned, slightly surprised. Then a faint smile lit his eyes. “I’d almost forgotten. I came here in the first place to heal.”

Lu Yao met his gaze directly. “You’re so much better now than when you first arrived. I’m really glad this street was able to help you.”

Fu Chi gave a bitter smile. “From now on, I’ll only be able to come back as a guest.”

Lu Yao quipped, “You’ll get a permanent 20% discount on your monthly fee.”

Fu Chi couldn’t help but laugh aloud. “Boss, you’re generous. Guess I’ll have to post about this and show off.”

Lu Yao laughed along with him.

Under the dim glow of the lights, Fu Chi patted Lu Yao on the shoulder, turned, and began descending the stairs.

“Boss, I’m off duty.”

Lu Yao followed Fu Chi downstairs and gave him a gentle push at the door. “Go home and get a good night’s sleep. A new journey awaits you.”

Fu Chi stepped through the cinema’s portal and, in an instant, transitioned from the night into daylight.

He paused briefly at the entrance, waved without turning back, and then strode away.

…

That afternoon, the other staff members at the shopping street learned of Fu Chi’s resignation from the Great Wu staff’s posts on the intranet.

Some knew the inside story, others didn’t.

Meetings and farewells happened every day, and Lu Yao didn’t bother explaining. She turned her attention back to building and running the inn.

The hot spring water had finally been redirected to the inn, and the dimensional space upgrade was complete.

Lu Yao first worked with Budu to set up his room. Thanks to Budu’s innate ability to produce ice, she didn’t have to put in much effort, though his power weakened under the blazing sun.

To help, Lu Yao designed a set of dual ice-and-dark-element magical nails and enlisted Clarissa, Ambrose, and Harold to craft them.

Once activated, the nails formed armor-like protection on the wearer’s body, much like the enchanted nails used by Mumu and Harold.

When Budu wore them, he was no longer so vulnerable to light and heat.

Still, Lu Yao wasn’t entirely confident. If summer temperatures became too extreme, she was prepared to send Budu back to Qianmen Mountain.

Budu had no idea about Lu Yao’s contingency plans. To him, these days spent with her felt like a dream come true.

…

After finishing Budu’s room, Lu Yao turned her focus to designing the hot spring guest rooms. She wanted to revamp the component designs but hadn’t settled on an idea yet.

In the meantime, she decided to first construct the hot spring pool for human use, along with an underground drainage system and a purification pond.

The waste water from the hot spring would flow into the purification pond, be treated, and then discharged through the drainage channels.

Lu Yao was experienced in this sort of work, having purified deep-sea water and fish waste when she built the pet cafe.

The principles were the same; only the methods needed slight adjustments.

The Nitean Continent was so pristine, and the smallfolk were so endearing that Lu Yao wanted to preserve their environment as much as possible while avoiding any long-term risks to their lives.

…

The next day, Shanxian’s team and Gan Bing’s team prepared to leave.

They had stayed an extra day, taking a train ride, racing on the 3D track, spinning on the teacups, and watching a movie. Though they had seen and experienced many new things, their journey had to continue.

Shanxian’s team traded some oilstones for daily essentials like soap, tissues, tea, and food.

Gan Bing’s team bartered sugar cubes for food, rare spices, and condiments.

That afternoon, one of the three smallfolk couples also departed.

Having recently held their Iris Ceremony, they had left their respective tribes to find a safe place to build their nest during the early days of the Sunshine Season.

As guests trickled out, the inn returned to its usual quietness.

By evening, Lu Yao returned from her exploration to find one of the smallfolk couples standing near the lift again.

The female smallfolk seemed to be from the Red Pig Tribe, though she didn’t bear any obvious tribal markings. This was just Lu Yao’s assumption. The male smallfolk, with reddish tips on his hair, likely hailed from the Xiaguang Tribe.

Feeling their gaze on her, Lu Yao looked back. They quickly averted their eyes, visibly nervous.

This wasn’t the first time over the past two days. Initially, Lu Yao thought it was just her imagination, but she was now certain it wasn’t.

Sweaty and tired, she gave them a polite nod and continued down the hallway, intending to clean up in her room.

After taking a shower and changing into fresh clothes, Lu Yao felt too drained to cook. She ordered a meal through her phone instead.

About ten minutes later, the staff at Qingshan Noodle House contacted her to say the noodles were ready.

Lu Yao got up and went next door to pick up her food.

From the shadows, Jiegeng and Hudie watched her leave, nudging each other with disappointment.

“She’s gone again,” Jiegeng muttered.

“You missed another chance,” Hudie sighed.

…

When Lu Yao returned with her food, she sat at the counter, eating large bites of noodles. After finishing her meal, she noticed that the smallfolk couple still hadn’t spoken up.

Her patience finally wore thin. She looked directly at them and asked, “Do you two need something?”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Bai Lu sent Lu Yao several messages, including award-winning paintings from her school days, handmade crafts, and records of her personal social media achievements.

Compared to her first interview, she was much more earnest this time.

After sending her portfolio, Bai Lu candidly expressed her desire to work on the shopping street.

Lu Yao scrolled through Bai Lu’s materials carefully, her fingers moving across the screen.

She truly admired her—so young, yet so courageous.

Bai Lu’s skills were indeed well-suited for the inn. After some thought, Lu Yao reiterated her earlier point: working on the shopping street might seem fresh and exciting at first, but, like most jobs in the world, it eventually became monotonous and full of trivial tasks.

A few minutes later, Bai Lu replied:
[Bai Lu: I understand. Honestly, I hesitated for a long time before mustering the courage to reach out to you. Ever since I got back this afternoon, the thought of the shopping street has been consuming my mind. If I don’t give it a try, I’ll always regret it and feel restless.]

She wasn’t lying—few people could be so decisive.

Seeing her determination, Lu Yao decided there was no point in saying more.

[Lu Yao: Alright, come over tomorrow. You’ll start at the reception desk in the inn. There’s a seven-day trial period. After that, we’ll decide if it’s a mutual fit.]

Both Ji Qingyan and Zheng Ziyang had also been given a seven-day trial period when they first signed their contracts. Both had chosen to stay.

Exiting the chat window, Bai Lu sat in stunned silence for several minutes before realizing what had happened—she had actually messaged Lu Yao, and she hadn’t been rejected.

Her heartbeat quickened as she flopped backward onto her bed, covering her face and rolling around before springing upright to message Bai Jin:
[Bai Lu: Sis! I just contacted Lu Yao, and she agreed to let me join her team!]
[Bai Jin: No way!!!]

…

After handling her messages, Lu Yao still had work to do.

In another two days, she estimated she’d have the hot spring water fully redirected to the inn.

Aside from the hot spring bathhouse for smallfolk, she also wanted to build a relaxation pool for humans.

With the Dream Fulfillment System no longer around, Lu Yao had to handle tasks like upgrading dimensional spaces herself.

The new inn had been open for nearly a month now, and there had been no sign of the system. Whenever she thought about it, a vague sense of worry crept up.

Focusing back on her work, Lu Yao blurred the wall to the right of the inn’s entrance, creating a spacious dimensional space.

Because the process mimicked the abilities of the Dream Fulfillment System, it required 24/7 maintenance.

Thinking of Budu, Lu Yao also added a room next to the staff lounge in the kitchen corridor. She built this dimensional space as an icehouse—a personal, exclusive room for Budu within the inn.

…

The next morning, Ji Qingyan and Xiao Zheng arrived earlier than usual.

Lu Yao had posted a video in the staff group chat before bed: twenty-something smallfolk guests dining in the restaurant. The off-duty staff who saw it couldn’t stop replaying it, their smiles full of indulgence.

Not long after Ji Qingyan and Xiao Zheng arrived, Bai Lu also showed up for her first day of work.

Bai Zheng had driven her over, promising that she could catch a ride back with Bai Yi in the afternoon.

When Bai Lu saw Ji Qingyan and Zheng Ziyang again, she candidly shared how she had actively sought the opportunity to work at the shopping street.

Contrary to her expectations, neither of them reacted strangely. Instead, they were both very understanding.

Especially Zheng Ziyang, who lightly patted Bai Lu’s shoulder with a knowing look as if to say, “I get it.”

Bai Lu secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

…

By the time Lu Yao woke up, Xiao Zheng had already prepared breakfast.

The guests, too, began waking up. Seeing several human figures suddenly bustling about the inn, they did their best to remain composed, hiding any signs of nervousness.

After breakfast, the smallfolk noticed that the humans didn’t seem particularly interested in them, and they gradually became more at ease.

It seemed they intended to stay in Thorn Valley for a while, as none of them mentioned checking out.

Shanxian’s team, having heard Zhu Zhou mention the tracks and train outside last night, became excited. After breakfast, they begged Zhu Zhou to take them to see the train.

Gan Bing’s group originally planned to have tea on the rooftop, but upon hearing about the train, they noisily decided to tag along.

The remaining guests, all couples, sat in pairs in the corners of the inn, rarely interacting with others.

Lu Yao pulled open the curtain of the mini cinema and placed a phone inside, playing a film voiced by Yingtong and Jianlan.

Sure enough, the guests were drawn in, slowly gathering around the mini cinema, their eyes glued to the screen.

After settling the guests, Lu Yao called Bai Lu over.

During the days when the inn had no visitors, Lu Yao hadn’t been idle. Together with Ji Qingyan, she had built the guest room next to the mini cinema.

The new guest room area had a completely different style from the adjacent rooms. Lu Yao envisioned this section as a Rose Garden Inn. The building was a single European-style structure, with space behind each room reserved for a glass greenhouse and open-air garden.

The intricate details required more than just assembling parts; they would need significant interior design work.

Ji Qingyan had already expressed her frustrations to Lu Yao—her straightforward aesthetic worked for block assembly but not for soft furnishings.

Lu Yao didn’t push her and initially planned to handle it herself. However, with her hands full building the hot spring bathhouse across the way, she found herself short on time.

Then Bai Lu arrived, just in time to step up.

After reviewing Lu Yao’s blueprints and listening to her detailed description of the desired outcome, Bai Lu showed no hesitation. She confirmed the specifics with Lu Yao and immediately got to work with a soft brush.

Having loved arts and crafts since childhood, Bai Lu had tried her hand at everything from origami and clay sculpting to doll clothing and glass beadmaking. Anything involving hands-on creativity was her forte.

Painting walls and creating relief murals were second nature to her.

Lu Yao stood by for a while, watching Bai Lu work. Feeling reassured, she picked up her tools and headed outside. “I’ll leave the inn to you all. I need to get back to burying water pipes.”

…

The main roads surrounding the inn in all four directions had already been paved, with only part of the train tracks yet to be connected.

Even so, the half-completed tracks circling Thorn Valley were enough for the train conductor to take guests on scenic rides.

Walking along the middle of the road, Lu Yao saw Zhu Zhou driving the little green train with ten carriages, chugging past the fence with a cheerful woo-woo-woo.

The passengers inside were brimming with excitement, waving enthusiastically at her.

Below the fence, patches of grass had sprouted small clusters of blue flowers, swaying gently in the breeze.

Lu Yao crouched down, pulled out her phone, and lowered the angle to snap a photo.

The image captured the wild grass, blue flowers, train, and passengers, framed against the clear, cloudless sky and the massive wooden fence. It looked as though she had stumbled into a hidden fairytale world.

…

Returning to the inn at noon, Lu Yao posted the photo online, and the comment section immediately exploded with activity.

[Hot Spring Inn Ji Qingyan: So this is what it looks like outside the gate.]
[Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu: Ahhh! That little train is way too adorable!]
[Interdimensional Cinema Kuba: Why do they get a train?!]
[Interdimensional Cinema Zhu Zhu: @Interdimensional Cinema Kuba Doesn’t that train and its passengers seem a little… off? Where is this place? [Face-palm horror.JPG]]
[Blind Box Shop Lilly: Such round, plump little ones—perfect bite-sized pieces!]
[Blind Box Shop Luo Huian: Ahhh!!! The phone really works!]
[Little Pet Cafe Leilei: Waaahhh!!!]
[Childhood Tutoring Center Hu Jiao: Wow, I want to go there too!]
[Snack Shop Xingzi: So this is what the boss does when she’s not at the shop!]
[Snack Shop Ning Yun: Such beautiful weather!]
[Nail Salon Mumu: Squee!]

…

Lu Yao smiled as she carefully read through all the comments.

Honestly, the feeling was even more extraordinary than she had anticipated.

Through a single intranet connection, she had truly managed to bring together fascinating souls from different worlds.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Lu Yao couldn’t see the expressions on the smallfolk guests, but their heavy footsteps gave away their exhaustion, likely from the journey. She peeked inside the inn and called for Zhu Zhou and Heici to come and assist with reception.

Hearing her voice, Yuanwei ran to the railing to take a look. Seeing the sizeable group, she turned toward the small kitchen, but after a few steps, stopped. “Lu Yao, Xiao Zheng’s already gone for the day.”

Lu Yao nodded. “Alright, I’ll come help. I’ll handle the noodles; you take care of the side dishes and soup.”

With over twenty guests, Yuanwei couldn’t handle it all alone. It made more sense for Lu Yao to prepare the main course.

The presence of Zhu Zhou and Heici helped calm the nervous and frightened guests, at least a little.

The group was unsure how to line up and remained wary of Lu Yao, resulting in a chaotic scene.

Neither Zhu Zhou nor Heici were skilled with numbers, so assigning rooms and completing the check-in process required Lu Yao’s supervision.

Lu Yao went around to the other side of the cooking counter, started boiling water in the kitchen, and returned to manage the guests.

Zhu Zhou explained the inn’s check-in rules: items could be exchanged for Nitean coins to pay for lodging. Lu Yao then collected the payment and handed out keys, while Heici led the guests’ red pigs to the stables. Zhu Zhou guided the guests via the manual elevator to the guestroom area.

Thanks to their previous experience hosting the red pig tribe’s hunting team, Zhu Zhou and Heici handled their tasks relatively smoothly.

Once all the guests reached their rooms, Heici came upstairs from the stable and helped Zhu Zhou escort the guests to their assigned rooms.

Seeing everything running smoothly, Lu Yao turned back toward the kitchen.

She was about to start cooking the noodles when she noticed Ji Feichen still standing near the freezer. Surprised, she asked, “You’re still here?”

Ji Feichen looked slightly embarrassed. “The child hasn’t woken up yet.”

The freezer door nudged open, and Budu poked his head out. “I’m awake. Nothing’s wrong. You can go now.”

Ji Feichen stood up, glanced at Budu, then looked at Lu Yao. Awkwardly, he nodded at Budu. “Alright, I’ll leave now.”

From the day he was born, Ji Feichen had always been overshadowed.

He and Ji Feiming weren’t far apart in age. If Ji Feiming hadn’t been born with Yin-Yang eyes, Ji Feichen might have had the qualifications to compete for the position of divine emissary.

But fate had other plans. Among his peers, a prodigious talent emerged, rendering everyone else insignificant, like mere stones.

Later, the old gods fell, and Ji Feiming lost the divine emissary title.

Ji Feichen thought all his past humiliations and regrets would be erased when he found the sleeping child in the mountains of Qianmen. But the new child showed no intention of protecting the Ji clan, choosing instead to come to the shopping street. In the end, everything was for naught.

Budu, oblivious to Ji Feichen’s disappointment, simply lay back down in the freezer.

Lu Yao gave Ji Feichen another look, opened her mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted by a notification tone from her phone.

From the kitchen, Yuanwei called out again, “Lu Yao, I’m almost done here!”

Pushing her thoughts aside, Lu Yao responded and began preparing the noodles.

…

Five minutes later, the noodles were ready.

The guests came down from their rooms to dine.

Each of the three guesthouses had a dining area and laundry room on the first floor.

The small kitchen was located in Block 1. This group of guests was split between Block 1 and Block 2, so the meals were sent to the dining areas on the first floor of both buildings.

Coming downstairs, the guests appeared visibly more relaxed, their curiosity evident as they took in their surroundings.

Lu Yao carried the pot of cooked noodles to the serving counter, ladling portions into bowls and placing them on trays. She used a small cart to transport the trays to the small kitchen.

At the door, Yuanwei distributed side dishes and hot soup into each tray. Zhu Zhou and Heici then used carts to deliver the meals to the dining areas of the two guesthouses.

Despite being freshly prepared for twenty guests, the dinner service was completed quickly and efficiently.

A large bowl of noodles tossed with egg and shredded pork sauce, paired with a side of lemongrass-seasoned pickled radish strips and a bowl of wild vegetable tofu soup, greeted the guests. Their mouths watered at the sight, and they quickly set aside their worries, slurping down the noodles enthusiastically.

Most Nitean smallfolk ate with their hands, using rough spoons only for soup and occasionally wooden sticks for specific dishes. First-time guests at the inn were unfamiliar with chopsticks.

Zhu Zhou and Yuanwei demonstrated how to use them and assured the guests they could have seconds if needed. However, some guests, frustrated with their fumbling chopstick skills, resorted to grabbing the noodles with their hands.

The noodles Lu Yao cooked were fine dragon beard noodles, which were perfectly sized for the Nitean smallfolk to handle and eat directly. The only issue was the thick layer of sauce left at the bottom of the bowl, which required scooping with a spoon—or simply asking the innkeeper for more noodles.

With a small pot of noodles, a teacup of soup, and a small plate of radish strips, the twenty or so guests ate to their hearts’ content.

Feeling that the menu was a bit monotonous, Lu Yao also prepared fried milk. She had pre-made the base and stored it in the fridge. She cut the mixture into finger-sized strips, fried them, then sliced them into three smaller pieces, drizzling condensed milk on top.

Each guest received a small piece, which was enough to keep them content for quite a while.

Nitean smallfolk, when full, enjoyed sprawling wherever they found comfortable, chatting with others. If there were snacks within arm’s reach, their happiness only increased.

This group of guests consisted of a mix of tribes: one group of eight had animal ears and likely came from the Luo Xiong Tribe. Another group of six, with slightly reddish hair tips, appeared to belong to the Xiaguang Tribe. The remaining six were in pairs, each distinctly different—probably inter-tribal couples like Yuanwei and Zhu Zhou.

In the dining area, the smallfolk chatted with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Some even approached Yuanwei and Heici to strike up conversations.

Lu Yao rested her arms on a table nearby, listening to their chatter.

Among the animal-eared smallfolk, a young one with bright red fox ears crept forward cautiously and tugged at Lu Yao’s sleeve. “Are you Lu Yao?”

Lu Yao raised an eyebrow. “You know me?”

The red-eared fox’s face lit up as he turned toward the dining hall and shouted, “Uncle Shanxian, it really is Lu Yao!”

The atmosphere in the dining hall froze for a moment.

Up until then, the smallfolk had been trying hard to ignore her presence.

And just like that, the pretense crumbled.

Shanxian, the tallest among the animal-eared group, even taller than Zhu Zhou, had round black bear ears on his head. He stood up and approached Lu Yao. “I am Shanxian from the Luo Xiong Tribe.”

Lu Yao extended a finger for a handshake. “Hello. How are Xiong Ming and the others?”

Shanxian nodded. “They returned to the tribe before the Ice Period. Both the adults and the unborn are safe.”

The young red-eared fox piped up again, now standing directly in front of Lu Yao. “My name is Huohu. Xiaoji told us so much about the inn.”

After a season of the Twilight Moon, Luo Xiong Tribe had exhausted their stock of rock salt and sugar cubes. Shanxian’s team was on a mission to trade with the Black Rock Tribe by the sea and the Xiaguang Tribe in the mountains.

Before their journey, they had learned from Xiong Ming’s team that Thorn Valley had changed. The thorny undergrowth had been cleared, the roads were wide and smooth, and—most importantly—there were reports of a big human presence.

To save time, they had mustered the courage to cross Thorn Valley.

Though they had heard tales of how kind and gentle the human was, their instincts still drove a deep fear when they first met Lu Yao.

Even now, speaking face-to-face with her, Shanxian’s hands trembled behind his back, though the thick fur concealed it from view.

Huohu, on the other hand, stared at Lu Yao with wide, curious eyes, full of fascination.

While Shanxian introduced himself, a member of the Xiaguang group stepped forward. A young man with faintly red-tipped hair approached Lu Yao slowly. “Hello, my name is Gan Bing. Xiao Lizi mentioned the inn at Thorn Valley when she returned home.”

The “Xiao Lizi” he referred to was likely Gan Li.

Lu Yao: “What’s your relationship with Gan Li?”

Gan Bing: “I’m her elder brother.”

Lu Yao noticed the smallfolk in the dining hall appearing to chat casually with their companions while sneaking glances at her out of the corners of their eyes.

She lowered her head, suppressing a smile.

She could already guess their internal journey: hearing about the inn from a fellow smallfolk, sparking curiosity; venturing through Thorn Valley and finding the scale of the inn and the presence of a big human far beyond their expectations; succumbing to fear and pretending to be dead; and finally, thanks to an “unruly” young smallfolk exposing the truth, giving up on the pretense and resigning themselves to honesty.

“Playing dead” truly seemed to be an innate skill of the smallfolk—both physically and mentally.

Unfortunately, their nature was too simple. While they could pretend, they struggled to carry the act to the end.

They had a bit of cunning but not much depth.

A sudden and unsettling thought crossed Lu Yao’s mind: perhaps humans had gone extinct to make way for the pure and endearing smallfolk.

A world with humans wasn’t suitable for the survival of Nitean smallfolk.

And yet, here she was in their world, unsure whether her presence was good or bad.

After their exhausting journey, the guests, now full and reassured that Lu Yao meant them no harm, began to relax. Feeling the weariness of their travels, they grouped off in twos and threes to return to their rooms to rest.

Before heading to bed, they indulged in baths, changed clothes, and released pent-up energy in their rooms—but that’s a tale for another time.

…

Lu Yao helped the staff clean up the dining hall and kitchen, then fished Budu out of the freezer.

She prepared a bowl of fruit, mixed it with ice cream, and handed it to him.

Budu loved sweet and cold treats, and despite the icy chill, he ate happily, his expression full of joy.

Watching him savor the frozen dessert that would chill her teeth just to look at, Lu Yao couldn’t help but smile.

Earlier, her phone had received some new messages, but she hadn’t had the chance to check them yet.

She pulled out her phone.

On the green app, several messages from different accounts awaited her.

Lu Yao habitually read them in chronological order, starting from the oldest.

The first was from Fu Chi, expressing his gratitude and informing her that he planned to officially resign tomorrow.

The second was from Feng Xiang—a polite, formal message expressing hopes for future collaboration.

The third was from Du Mingyan, inquiring about VIP client details.

Once the premiere ended, the temporary app installed on the guests’ phones for the shopping street automatically disappeared. However, they remained bound by confidentiality agreements. If they wanted to contact Lu Yao again, they could only do so through the green messaging app.

Du Mingyan’s inquiry marked her as a potential client. She might not commit to VIP status immediately, but the interest was there.

Lu Yao swiftly typed out a reply to her questions in a language both sides could understand.

The last message was from someone unexpected.

She hesitated for a few seconds before opening the chat.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Feng Xiang walked up to Fu Chi, his previously heated thoughts cooling down slightly. Swallowing his original complaints, he shifted the topic. “So, this is what you call a ‘holographic film’?”

The Bai siblings, still immersed in the emotional aftertaste of the film, looked up at the comment.

Did this person seem dissatisfied?

But the film was great—far better than any 4D experience they’d ever had. Every detail, from the scenery to the tactile and auditory sensations, was impeccably immersive. Watching it felt like truly walking down an ancient street.

Feng Xiang noticed their gazes and stiffened, doubling down: “It has sound, touch, and even smell—but where’s the taste? A bustling street full of food stalls, yet all we can do is look and smell, not eat.”

Bai Zheng chimed in, realizing the same point. “Honestly, this was a fantastic first holographic experience. My only regret is not being able to taste that duck blood vermicelli soup—or the desserts from Yuguizhai.”

Fu Chi, who knew Feng Xiang’s temperament all too well, smiled patiently. Despite his age, Feng Xiang still liked playing the part of a tsundere, much like a headstrong youth.

Fu Chi responded evenly, “The holographic technology at our cinema is flawless. The reason you couldn’t taste the street food is that this was a documentary, and there was no main-perspective character. If there were, viewers would be able to fully experience all sensations with the character, including sight, taste, touch, hearing, smell, and even emotional highs and lows.”

Bai Zheng’s eyes widened. “So, there are holographic films with main-perspective characters?”

Fu Chi nodded. “Indeed. When the shopping street app officially launches, VIP guests will be able to book tickets online. But for today, that’s all.”

Bai Zheng sighed regretfully. “I guess I’ll have to come back next time.”

Bai Jing interjected, “I’ve heard the new inn opened by the shopkeeper is quite interesting. Bai Yi mentioned it.”

Bai Yi had recently been chatting often with their “F4 group,” but had remained tight-lipped about the inn’s details, only piquing Bai Jing’s curiosity further.

Ji Feirong added, “I wonder if it’s convenient to take a look. I’d like to visit too.”

Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan, meanwhile, were eager to discuss the cinema and the documentary with Fu Chi, but the rest of the group seemed to have moved on to other topics, focusing on the inn.

The two of them belatedly realized that this street seemed to house numerous intriguing shops and that Fu Chi wasn’t the owner of any of them.

Fu Chi patted Feng Xiang on the shoulder reassuringly. “I know what you want to ask. Wait for me downstairs. I’ll escort them to the inn and come back to talk.”

Leading the group out, Fu Chi guided them to the inn while Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan stayed behind at the cinema. As the group exited, a faint light seemed to spill through the door, catching the two’s attention. But when they looked up, all they saw was pitch-black night.

“Dong—dong—dong—”

The rhythmic clatter of clappers broke the silence, followed by the unmistakable cry of a night watchman. The sound was so distinctive that, despite only hearing it once in the film, they immediately recognized it.

Standing behind the floor-to-ceiling window, Du Mingyan and Feng Xiang watched in stunned silence as a man with a lantern and clappers slowly passed by the door.

Du Mingyan whispered, “What is this place?”

Fu Chi returned just in time to hear the question. He replied earnestly, “This is the shopping street’s cinema, one of five shops Lu Yao has opened in a parallel world.”

Feng Xiang & Du Mingyan: “…”

At this hour, Fu Chi was the only staff member left in the cinema. All the native employees had already departed before curfew.

“Even after watching that film, you still think I’m spouting nonsense?” Fu Chi asked, noticing their disbelief.

Neither Feng Xiang nor Du Mingyan answered.

Fu Chi walked between them, joining them in gazing into the night. His tone was calm. “You both know what happened to me abroad. My mental breakdown, the countless specialists I consulted—all to no avail. By chance, I found my way to this street. My first stop wasn’t even this cinema but the pet café next door.”

“Even then, my condition didn’t improve. The café owner suggested I try working here at the cinema. I paid a million to come for therapy, and she put me to work. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“She’s… a strange person. But after I started working here, those shadows that refused to leave my mind finally began to fade. Day by day, I felt myself letting go and coming back to life.”

“The shopping street is a real place, and the Great Wu Dynasty is a real world. This film documents how this cinema was abruptly introduced into the Great Wu Dynasty, a world that initially seemed completely unsuitable, and how it gradually gained the favor of its guests and established itself.

“To me, the significance of this film is simply capturing how time flows and how humanity constantly seeks to adapt under its relentless push. Moving forward may not inherently hold meaning, but we have no way back.

“When I said I wanted to invite friends to watch this film, Lu Yao said I could only bring two. Honestly, I agonized over the decision for a while before ultimately choosing you two. But it seems like you both didn’t enjoy the experience much, and for that, I sincerely apologize.”

It must be said—spending enough time around the shopkeeper, you inevitably pick up a few clever tricks. This “retreat to advance” strategy was something Fu Chi had never imagined himself delivering so convincingly.

The night deepened.

Feng Xiang was silent for a while before stammering, “So… uh… what’s the deal with the holographic technology?”

Next to him, Du Mingyan was secretly wiping her eyes, yet Feng Xiang was still hung up on the irrelevant holographic tech.

Fu Chi took a deep breath. “The holographic technology was developed by Lu Yao in collaboration with another team. Don’t overthink it—for now, it can only exist within the shopping street.”

Having his curiosity dismissed, Feng Xiang didn’t get angry. Instead, he wanted to yell: You show me this incredible technology and then tell me not to overthink it? Who’s the crazy one here—me or you?

After Fu Chi’s explanation, the group, all sharp-minded individuals, decided to stop fixating on the reality of the cinema and its technology.

Du Mingyan asked, “Those people earlier seemed to be regulars here?”

Fu Chi nodded. “Yes. Due to various circumstances, they became connected to the shopping street and ultimately became VIP guests.”

“And what does it take to become a VIP?” Du Mingyan pressed.

Thinking of Lu Yao, Fu Chi couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just money.”

…

Meanwhile, the Bai siblings, Ji Feirong, Jing Yuxi, and Luo Huan made their way to the inn.

With the exception of Bai Lu and the assistant, everyone else was a VIP guest, so they had a general idea of what to expect from the new establishment.

However, upon entering the inn, their jaws dropped.

From the moment they stepped inside, the intricate miniatures on the floor, the manual elevators, the finely detailed blue-brick buildings by the windowsill, the tea room, the miniature screening hall, and even the 3D running track downstairs continuously captured their attention.

Bai Jin and Bai Zheng sat by the window, their fingers instinctively reaching to fiddle with the doorknobs of the three small buildings nestled together.

Bai Jin turned to Ji Qingyan to confirm again, “There really are tiny people living in these houses?”

Ji Qingyan smiled and nodded. “There aren’t any guests these days, but the inn has a few smallfolk staff. They’re out with the shopkeeper right now.”

Even Ji Feirong hadn’t anticipated the inn would take on such a whimsical design. She bent down to closely examine a miniature folding screen placed on the top floor of one building and casually asked, “Where’s Lu Yao?”

Ji Qingyan replied, “The shopkeeper discovered a natural hot spring on the mountain and went out to install pipes to divert some of the water to the inn.”

The assistant, standing beside Ji Feirong, couldn’t tear her gaze away from the tiny teacup set on the roof of one of the buildings. It was impossibly cute, complete with seats, tables, a kettle, and even snacks. The exquisite scene was so detailed and charming that just looking at it felt oddly therapeutic.

Xiao Zheng brought over freshly made fruit-and-cream profiteroles and tea. The others enthusiastically discussed the smallfolk and the “Building Block Inn,” while Bai Lu sat alone at the kitchen counter, quietly sipping her tea.

This was the same store where Lu Yao had initially planned to hire staff. At the time, Lu Yao had only mentioned it being a building block-themed inn, never revealing its full nature.

Now, thinking back to her cousins’ surprised and regretful expressions when they heard she had turned down the job—and Zheng Ziyang’s apparent realization before going back to find Lu Yao—she felt a pang of frustration.

She was the only one who hadn’t understood anything back then.

Earlier, when they visited the “Little Pet Cafe” next door, Bai Lu had already begun to sense the shopping street’s unusual qualities. A shop set in the deep sea, with round, chubby seals, whimsical attractions more exciting than any amusement park, and authentic seafood buffets. Then the holographic cinema—if her guess was right, Lu Yao’s cinema was located in that ancient world. And now this “Building Block Inn,” where the welcoming staff turned out to be thumb-sized smallfolk.

Objectively, the jobs offered on the shopping street didn’t seem highly competitive by market standards. But after visiting three of its shops, Bai Lu couldn’t help feeling a twinge of imbalance when recalling that she once had the chance to work here.

Look at Ji Qingyan, with her dazzling résumé, now here assembling building blocks, cleaning, and performing routine inn reception tasks.

Look at Zheng Ziyang, once a senior assistant, now wearing an apron and baking profiteroles. The job seemed fun on the surface, but it was essentially just that.

Bai Lu held her teacup tightly and took a slow, deep breath.

“Oh, right!” Ji Qingyan suddenly remembered something and crouched down.

A moment later, she stood back up holding a plump, pink piglet. The piglet, barely the size of her palm, kicked its little legs and let out soft snorts.

Bai Jin stared, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, is that real?!”

Ji Qingyan nodded. “This is a red pig. Some guests paid their room fees by leaving these behind. We actually have quite a few—they’re housed in pens on the lowest level.”

Bai Zheng squatted down and spotted a row of tiny pens, along with piglets even smaller and cuter than the one Ji Qingyan held. “Whoa, do they not grow any bigger?”

Ji Qingyan replied, “The largest they’ll get is about the size of this one in my hand. The smallfolk raise them as beasts of burden.”

Bai Jin gazed longingly at the piglet. “Can I hold it?”

Ji Qingyan grabbed an alcohol wipe, thoroughly cleaned the piglet, and handed it to Bai Jin. “They’re timid, so hold it tightly.”

Bai Jin felt the soft, squishy bundle in her hands and couldn’t help turning to Bai Lu. “Look, it’s a pink piglet! It’s so unbelievably cute!”

The assistant also leaned over to touch the piglet. “If this hit the pet market, it’d sell like crazy.”

Years ago, the pet market was briefly obsessed with so-called “mini pigs” that supposedly didn’t grow larger—but those had turned out to be scams. Pigs were pigs; eventually, they all grew big and fat.

But the red pig was different. It truly maxed out at palm-sized. Its smallness made it irresistibly adorable.

Bai Lu put down her tea, stood up, and hesitantly approached, avoiding eye contact with Ji Qingyan and Zheng Ziyang.

Seeing the piglet in person, she realized it wasn’t a toy—it really looked like this. It was even more surprising than the seal pups at the pet cafe.

The door suddenly swung open, and Lu Yao rushed in, carrying Budu in her arms. “Quick, quick, Budu is melting! Xiao Zheng, clear out the freezer!”

Xiao Zheng: “???”

Ji Qingyan recovered first and pushed him. “What are you staring at? Go!”

Lu Yao, noticing the guests for the first time, managed a hurried greeting before rushing past them with a noticeably shrunken Budu to the kitchen.

Ji Feichen, who had been quiet and almost invisible the entire time, finally showed signs of anxiety upon seeing Budu in Lu Yao’s arms. Without a word, he followed her into the kitchen.

The room fell silent. Bai Lu felt someone tugging at her hand. Turning, she saw Bai Jin signaling her to look toward the door.

Yuanwei, Heici, and Zhu Zhou, along with Beef Cube, had been left in Lu Yao’s basket at the door. The three smallfolk and the little wolf clambered out on their own, sweating profusely, and entered the inn.

Despite the sudden presence of many human guests, they were unfazed. They walked along the miniature path to the manual elevator and ascended to the upper floor.

The inn’s guests watched them in utter silence, their eyes fixed as the smallfolk rode the elevator and walked past. Both sides behaved with impeccable politeness.

When the three smallfolk and Beef Cube passed through the guest room area, past the miniature cinema, and entered the staff dormitory at the far end of the windowsill, Bai Jin couldn’t hold back anymore. She whispered excitedly, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!! They’re too cute!”

Bai Zheng clasped his face in both hands, looking like a boy falling in love. “And that little dog—so obedient! It’s barely the size of my finger! What kind of heaven for block people is this?!”

Even the normally composed assistant was starting to falter. From the deep-sea amusement park earlier, to the holographic cinema, and now this thumb-sized smallfolk inn, it was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of as a child.

After years of work and the grind of reality, her inner vitality had withered away.

Now, she finally understood why Ji Feirong had called this place “special.” The intent might not have been to groom her for promotion, but this trip was undeniably worth it.

It felt like a refueling station for her inner child, reviving her soul with a flood of fresh energy.

…

In the inn’s freezer, which wasn’t particularly stocked, Lu Yao placed Budu inside, set the temperature to the lowest level, and left a small gap for air. “Take a nap and recharge your strength.”

Budu wanted to laugh.

He wasn’t as fragile as she thought—otherwise, how could he protect her? Yet seeing her flushed and sweaty from running around, her face full of worry, filled him with a small, inexplicable joy.

After ensuring Budu was settled, Lu Yao stepped into the lounge to wipe her face before coming out to talk to the guests.

She noticed Bai Lu and could see the young woman’s nervousness and discomfort in her eyes. Offering a gentle greeting, Lu Yao then turned to Ji Feirong to chat.

Ji Feirong pulled her assistant, Zhong Man, forward and said to Lu Yao, “This is my assistant, Zhong Man. Open a VIP account for her—the annual fee’s on me.”

Zhong Man was startled.

Ji Feirong held her back firmly. “This place is like my secret retreat. I’ll probably come here often in the future. Coming alone isn’t much fun, so you’ll just have to keep me company.”

Ji Feirong’s insistence left Zhong Man no room to refuse.

Later, when Zhong Man returned to Tianji City, she logged into the shopping street app using her account and saw that the VIP membership started at a monthly fee of one million. She gasped.

It struck her again how her boss was truly a “rich lady among rich ladies,” and that the young shopkeeper was anything but ordinary.

…

Fu Chi led Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan on a tour of the cinema, including Lu Yao’s collection room.

There, they admired porcelain, brocades, embroidery, jewelry, inkstones, brushes, and paintings. A separate room housed bridal gowns carefully displayed on mannequins under vacuum-sealed glass covers. Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan were overwhelmed with envy.

Once they had calmed down, Fu Chi brought them to the inn to meet Lu Yao.

By then, most of the VIP guests had already left. Only Ji Feichen remained by the kitchen freezer, keeping an eye on Budu, while Ji Feirong had taken Zhong Man to the pet cafe next door. Since they were returning to Tianji City the next day, they wanted to make the most of their time.

Zhong Man had eaten lunch at the pet cafe but hadn’t yet visited the fishing deck above the sea—a spot known for its serene views.

…

As the sun neared the horizon and the heat subsided, Lu Yao was preparing to head back up the mountain to continue digging trenches and laying pipes.

Fu Chi entered the room and gestured toward Feng Xiang and Du Mingyan. “Boss, these are the friends I mentioned to you.”

Lu Yao put down her tools and extended her hand, greeting them one by one. “Ms. Du, Director Feng.”

Up close, Lu Yao looked even younger than she had when they first saw her at the staircase.

Du Mingyan was slightly surprised. “Hello, Boss Lu.”

Lu Yao smiled warmly. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Lu Yao.”

For someone this young, if she were an actress, she would usually act reserved or shy in front of someone like Feng Xiang.

Feng Xiang prided himself on being able to read people, but the girl standing before him, with her clear, gentle features, didn’t seem like someone who could manage such a peculiar street.

Thinking about the cinema, he lowered his stance considerably. “Ms. Lu.”

The conversation started awkwardly, as their fields had little overlap. Feng Xiang, accustomed to being the center of attention as a director, found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied around Lu Yao.

Du Mingyan, on the other hand, was much more at ease. She glanced around the inn’s setup and remarked, “The decor here is so unique, especially the tea sets and folding screens. They’re adorable.”

Lu Yao replied, “The screens and teacups were designed by me and crafted by a master artisan from the Great Wu Dynasty. They turned out exactly how I envisioned them.”

Upon hearing that the screens and ceramics came from the Great Wu Dynasty, Feng Xiang couldn’t stay seated and leaned in to take a closer look.

Fu Chi had mentioned before that items from the cinema couldn’t leave its premises unless moved by the shopkeeper herself. Ordinary visitors like them would be physically blocked by the “door.”

Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and Yuanwei peeked out, carrying a small, golden-colored saucepan that emitted a sharp, tantalizing aroma.

“Lu Yao, weren’t you heading out to lay water pipes? Why are you still here?”

Lu Yao crouched slightly. “I’m leaving in a bit.”

The three-headed smallfolk, wearing a headscarf, looked up at her, holding the saucepan high.

Du Mingyan stared in astonishment at Yuanwei, then glanced back at Lu Yao, as if to confirm what she was seeing.

Feng Xiang, for his part, froze completely.

Lu Yao, accustomed to such reactions, explained patiently, “The inn operates differently from the cinema. This place caters exclusively to tiny guests.”

It was only then that Du Mingyan began to pay close attention to the inn’s layout and furnishings. “Ah, that explains everything.”

Yuanwei looked up and offered, “Lu Yao, I’ve made a pot of lemongrass soup. Would you like to try some?”

“Of course,” Lu Yao replied with a smile.

Yuanwei returned to the kitchen and brought out a tray with four small bowls of soup, carefully pouring and serving them. One bowl for Lu Yao, one for Fu Chi, and one each for the two guests.

Du Mingyan and Feng Xiang were stunned—they hadn’t expected to be included.

Lu Yao delicately picked up her small bowl with two fingers and downed the soup in one sip.

The aroma of the lemongrass was bold and sharp, yet the soup’s taste was clean and fresh, with bits of minced vegetables and meat adding subtle flavor.

Placing the bowl back down, Lu Yao praised, “It’s delicious.”

The other three followed suit, mimicking her actions. The inn’s atmosphere was so immersive that it was hard not to get swept up in it.

The tiny portion was just enough for a taste, but the flavor and the experience mattered far more than the amount.

After finishing, both Du Mingyan and Feng Xiang carefully inspected the intricate little bowls, marveling at their craftsmanship.

Lu Yao, mindful of her unfinished task of laying water pipes, softly reminded Fu Chi to continue entertaining their guests.

“If you’re hungry, the Qingshan Noodle House, snack shop, or pet cafe can serve you. For the snack shop or noodle house, contact their staff through the app and ask Xiao Ji to pick up the food. If you want to visit the pet cafe, you’ll need to hurry—it’s almost closing time.”

Later that evening, Fu Chi took Du Mingyan and Feng Xiang to the pet cafe for dinner. Once again, they were left stunned upon entering the shop.

Zhou Su was about to finish her shift for the day.

The group ordered three bowls of seafood noodles and a deluxe sashimi platter. Carrying their food, they ascended the transparent staircase from the deep sea to the ocean’s surface, where the salty, humid sea breeze greeted them. It felt as if they had stepped into another world.

Ji Feirong and Zhong Man had already taken off their shoes and socks, rolled up their pant legs, and were sitting at the edge of the pier. Their feet soaked in the seawater, they held the large sashimi platter in their laps, with a tall glass of freshly squeezed juice beside them. They looked completely at ease.

When they saw the group approaching, they lazily waved and then turned back to enjoy the view of the sea.

Du Mingyan walked over and sat down beside them to chat.

Feng Xiang stood there dazed for a while, letting his noodles sit and swell in the broth before he slowly made his way over. He had completely given up trying to make sense of everything.

This half-day felt like a stolen dream, too surreal to be real.

…

Nitean Continent.

Under the flowering tree, Lu Yao was busy with her trench-digging work, while Jiexiang and Ziye spied on her from above.

Ziye whispered, “She’s here again. Should we try talking to her?”

Earlier in the day, they had dragged the massive bundle of food Lu Yao had left on the tree branch back to their hollow. It was enough to last them many days.

Not only was there an enormous amount, but it was also incredibly delicious. They had spent the entire afternoon tearing off pieces, eating without pause, unable to stop.

Jiexiang frowned, conflicted. The human woman didn’t seem malicious, but she still couldn’t muster the courage to approach her.

As Lu Yao continued to dig and bury pipes, she gradually reached the base of the tree. Her figure was partially obscured by the branches.

The two smallfolk were so absorbed in watching her that they leaned too far over one side of the branch. Jiexiang lost her grip and suddenly slipped.

“Jiexiang!!!” Ziye screamed, trying to grab her but failing.

Hearing the cry, Lu Yao instinctively looked up. Without seeing clearly, she pulled up her hem to catch whatever was falling.

Thud.

A female Nitean smallfolk landed in her arms. Judging by her appearance, she might have been from the Luo Xiong Tribe. The little one had round white animal ears, a chubby face, and two tiny black moles near the right corner of her mouth.

Lu Yao thought she seemed like someone who might enjoy food a bit too much.

Jiexiang curled into a ball in Lu Yao’s hands, trembling all over.

Looking up, Lu Yao caught a glimpse of golden hair flickering in the branches. She gently lowered her gaze and examined Jiexiang. After confirming she wasn’t injured, Lu Yao stood on her tiptoes and carefully placed her back on the branch.

Ziye slid down the trunk and rushed to support Jiexiang, nervously looking at Lu Yao.

“Don’t be afraid,” Lu Yao said softly. “I’m Lu Yao, a human, but I mean you no harm. I run an inn down the mountain specifically for smallfolk travelers to rest and relax. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to visit someday.”

Seeing that it was getting late, Lu Yao gathered her tools and stored the pipe in the nearby grass. She decided to call it a day—this work was exhausting, and she needed to build a machine to improve efficiency.

Jiexiang and Ziye stood on the branch, watching Lu Yao’s towering figure disappear into the sunset.

Jiexiang cupped her face with both hands. “Maybe humans aren’t so bad after all.”

Ziye, noticing her companion’s dreamy smile, felt a sudden pang of competitiveness. “I… I can be just as impressive as her!”

Jiexiang nodded absentmindedly. “Mm-hmm. Let’s go home. Next time, I want to bring her a gift when we visit the inn.”

Ziye: “…”

Cursed humans!

…

When Lu Yao returned to the inn at dusk, she found twenty or so Nitean smallfolk standing under the eaves. They were dusty from travel, some leading red pigs, and they seemed hesitant about knocking on the door.

Lu Yao walked over and pushed the door open. “Hello, welcome to the inn. You’re welcome to dine or stay here.”

The smallfolk huddled together in fear. “!!!”

Lu Yao crouched down and noticed that the red pigs’ harnesses were all different and that the smallfolk themselves came in various appearances. They were likely from different tribes.

Standing at the door, she didn’t rush them but instead stepped aside to give them space to enter.

Her large frame blocking the entrance made it impossible for them to run away, so, with a sense of resignation and sorrow, they shuffled inside one by one.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

At the break of dawn, Qi Beinan got up. While heating water to wash up, he casually tossed two eggs into the pot.

He had promised Xiao Yuanbao they’d go into town in the morning to eat scallion-stewed pork rib noodles. But since they were up so early and the road to the county was still long, he figured they’d each have a boiled egg to tide them over.

The wind on a February morning was still chilly and damp, and a thick fog hung in the air. Qi Beinan carried a small basket on his back and led Xiao Yuanbao by the hand toward the edge of the village to catch the ox cart.

The air smelled of damp new grass and rich soil. A light breeze stirred the faintly sour scent of pear blossoms.

As they walked, he helped Xiao Yuanbao review his counting.

The little one bounced along, counting happily with him, making the walk feel less tiring.

Xiao Yuanbao could already count from one to fifty — he could recite it straight through, or count things one by one.

At home, Qi Beinan would have him count the chopped firewood. Outside, he’d point at ducks gathered by the pond and ask him to count those too…

Practicing like this all the time, putting learning to use — how could it not stick?

“There’s a cow!”

Xiao Yuanbao suddenly heard a couple of mooing sounds. He tugged at Qi Beinan and they followed the noise through the mist to find a big yellow ox tilling a field.

Not many families in the village owned oxen. Anyone who did and took it out for plowing earned quite the attention — a small crowd had gathered to watch.

But Xiao Yuanbao wasn’t caught up in the novelty of that. He was simply fascinated by animals that were bigger and stronger than people — and since they didn’t keep any livestock at home, he was curious.

“Xiao Qi! Bao Ge’er!”

Fang Youliang, with a basket on his back, was also standing not far off, watching the ox with eyes full of envy.

He was thinking he might ask around about ox prices once they got to town. He knew he couldn’t afford one yet, but getting a sense of the cost would still be comforting.

But it was spring plowing season — oxen were sure to be much more expensive than in the winter.

In the cold months, there wasn’t much field work, and it was harder to feed livestock — they’d easily fall ill. That was when oxen were cheapest.

He didn’t have one himself, but he knew the market well.

Just then, he spotted familiar faces and called out happily.

“You two heading to town too?”

“Hey, Brother Fang — you’re here too!”

The three of them walked to the village edge together.

Qi Beinan noticed Fang had packed some wild greens in his basket — a big bundle of freshly washed wild scallions, about ten tender toon shoots, and a basket of duck eggs.

“You’re going to town to sell vegetables, Brother Fang?”

“My second sister and third brother gathered all these wild greens. We’ve had our fill at home. I’m going to town to get medicine for my dad, so I figured I’d bring some to Team Leader Liu too.”

“Their family lives in town — they don’t grow any of their own. They have to buy all their vegetables. This stuff might not be worth much, but it’s freshly picked. I hear city folks love greens that don’t come from the regular fields.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “When my dad was still alive, he used to love buying toon shoots and duck eggs to stir-fry. If you didn’t go early, they’d be sold out.”

“Team Leader Liu values you, Brother Fang. It’s clear you’ve built some solid goodwill.”

The three of them reached the village entrance and then parted ways.

Fang Youliang, frugal as always, wouldn’t spend the coins for the ox cart. Qi Beinan, on the other hand, had a child with him. He couldn’t make the little one walk the whole way — when Yuanbao got tired, he’d have to carry him, and that would be exhausting.

In town, though not as lively as during the New Year, there was still a thriving, bustling energy.

Qi Beinan led Xiao Yuanbao straight to a breakfast stall steaming with warmth and savory fog. For ten copper coins, he ordered two bowls of stewed pork rib noodles.

The little guy didn’t sit on the bench to wait. He wandered over to the big cooking pot, clutching his little hands, eyes locked on the vendor’s husband pulling noodles.

Qi Beinan sipped some of the scallion bone broth and called out, “It’ll be ready soon. Come warm up with some soup.”

But Xiao Yuanbao just shook his head, still standing guard.

His gaze didn’t budge from the head-wrapped man kneading soft dough, slowly stretching and pulling it into thin noodles, tossing them into the boiling iron pot.

Beside him, a woman ladled out rich, pre-boiled bone broth, shimmering with a layer of oil.

When the noodles were ready, they were scooped out with some green vegetables into a bowl, topped with a ladle of braised pork ribs, and finished with tender, stewed soybeans and a sprinkle of chopped scallions — steaming and fragrant.

Xiao Yuanbao darted back to Qi Beinan’s side and sat down.

Qi Beinan pulled out a pair of chopsticks, wiped them, and handed them over. “You little foodie — I offered you two boiled eggs on the cart, but you didn’t want them.”

“I wasn’t that hungry,” Xiao Yuanbao replied.

“Then why stand there staring at the noodle vendor?”

Xiao Yuanbao beamed. “I wanted to see how they make such delicious noodles in the city.”

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow. So studious?

Now that he thought of it, every time they’d eaten dumplings or noodles at a stall, the little guy always liked to stand nearby and watch.

Not just that — even at home, or at the Sun family’s place, he loved peeking into the kitchen.

He thought for a moment, then asked, “Why do you like watching people cook, Xiao Bao?”

Xiao Yuanbao blew on the hot soup, took a small sip, and with a happy squint said, “Because I want to learn how to cook too.”

Qi Beinan chuckled, “Is it because Father and Brother’s cooking isn’t good?”

But Xiao Yuanbao shook his head. “If I learn how to cook, I won’t ever go hungry again. And I already promised to cook tofu, eggplant, bamboo shoots… and even osmanthus cakes for Brother!”

Xiao Yuanbao counted on his fingers, carefully naming all the dishes Qi Beinan had mentioned before.

Qi Beinan’s heart softened, and he asked again, “But what if I hadn’t said I wanted to eat all those things, and you hadn’t promised to cook them — would you still want to learn how to make delicious food?”

Xiao Yuanbao thought hard for a moment, then said seriously, “Yes, I’d still want to. Being able to cook lots of food is really impressive. I want to be impressive!”

And truth be told, he had always loved seeing vegetables growing in the field turn into steaming, fragrant dishes in a bowl. Back when Qin Niazi was still at home, he’d thought she was amazing — she could make the whole kitchen smell delicious with her cooking.

Qi Beinan smiled with his eyes: “Cooking is a great skill. You’re right, Xiao Bao — once you know how to cook, you’ll never have to go hungry.”

“But to really learn something and become good at it takes time, effort, and a lot of hard work. It’s not easy. Can you stick with it?”

Xiao Yuanbao immediately put down his chopsticks and pretended to knead a ball of dough in his hands. Then he stretched it out with both arms, mimicking the noodle vendor from earlier.

The little guy even furrowed his brows and imitated the confident look of someone who’d been making noodles for over a decade.

Qi Beinan watched the imaginary noodle-making performance and couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Xiao Yuanbao saw him laughing and pouted, muttering, “That’s exactly how the vendor did it…”

Qi Beinan quickly stifled his laughter and nodded over and over.
“Yes, yes! That’s exactly right. You’re very observant, Xiao Bao!”

Xiao Yuanbao huffed and picked up his chopsticks again to eat his noodles. He had actually been planning to mimic Grandma Sun chopping up duck, but after seeing how hard Qi Beinan laughed, he got too shy to show it.

Qi Beinan straightened up and said seriously,
“Then how about this — would you like me to find you a teacher? Someone to teach you how to cook?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” Qi Beinan nodded. “But only if you promise not to give up halfway just because it’s hard. If you’re sure you can stick with it, I’ll look for a teacher.”

“I won’t give up!” Xiao Yuanbao said quickly. “I’ll learn properly — just like I did with counting!”

Qi Beinan smiled and patted his head. “Good.”

He’d always believed that having a skill — something you could really do well — was a vital thing, whether for making a living or simply for personal fulfillment.

When your hands hold a craft, your heart stays steady. People who carry themselves with confidence and grace either come from strong families or rely on their own ability.

And even if someone had a good family background, without their own skills to support it, that fortune wouldn’t last or earn respect.

So seeing Xiao Yuanbao show genuine interest in something made Qi Beinan feel this was a rare and precious thing — something worth guiding.

He could offer Xiao Bao a safe place to depend on, yes. But more than that, he hoped the child could one day live well without having to rely on anyone.

Still, finding a teacher wasn’t something you could do on a whim. It was bound to be a bit of a challenge.

A teacher’s skill was important, yes — but even more so was their character. Someone with ability but the wrong values wasn’t the kind of influence a child should have.

But now that he’d made up his mind, it was time to start looking — better than wandering blindly.

Leaving the noodle stall behind, Qi Beinan took Xiao Yuanbao to the market.

Before the entrance to the market proper, both sides of the alley were lined with small stalls. These were run by local farmers selling vegetable seedlings and saplings.

Qi Beinan picked out a dozen eggplant seedlings, a bundle of twenty water shield sprouts, five bunches of yellow chive roots, and two jin (about a kilogram) of small scallion bulbs.

He also bought celery seeds, green onion seeds, and coriander seeds.

These seedlings and seeds were cheap — even with all the variety he chose, it only cost him fifteen copper coins in total.

Much more affordable than buying full-grown vegetables.

After that, he needed to head back into the bustling market to buy groceries. An elderly vendor kindly gave him directions.

She told him to follow the slanted alley all the way to the end and then turn a corner — it would be a much shorter walk than retracing his steps.

Qi Beinan wasn’t very familiar with the county town, so he figured winding through the alleys might help him learn the area better. He took Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and led him into the slanted alley.

It was a typical residential lane, nothing fancy about the homes on either side — though occasionally, a courtyard gate would stand out for its height.

The place reminded Qi Beinan of the alley he used to live in with his father back in Qiu County.

There weren’t many wealthy households here, but there also weren’t too many truly struggling ones either — most folks seemed to live by a craft or by running a small shop.

The main path through the alley was just wide enough for one horse-drawn cart. Two sedan chairs could pass each other, but barely — and when that happened, pedestrians had to step aside onto the stone-lined drains under the eaves.

Qi Beinan could tell this wasn’t unusual — and sure enough, a pair of sedan chairs approached from opposite directions. He and Xiao Yuanbao stepped aside onto the narrow ledge to give way.

Then, a sharp voice pierced the air:

“Tell me, your home in the countryside — it’s right next to the livestock pen, isn’t it?”

“No? Then how are you as thick-headed as a mule? What, did the donkey teach you how to think? You really are a bumpkin from a peasant household. Might as well give up and go farm the fields — studying is clearly a waste of time on you.”

A burst of laughter followed the mocking.

“Quiet! Silence, all of you!”

The scolding voice came from a wide-open courtyard just ahead. It sounded oddly familiar to Qi Beinan.

The woman standing beside him on the ledge shook her head and muttered, “At it again — scolding his students.”

Qi Beinan asked, “Is there a private school here?”

The woman with the basket replied, “Yes, it’s that one with the open gate.”

“The door’s always open while he scolds his students — you can hear that rattan ruler smacking palms all the way down the alley.”

“Such a strict teacher,” Qi Beinan said respectfully. “May I ask his surname?”

He asked with courtesy, though inwardly he was already thinking he should steer well clear of this kind of tutor.

Strictness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing — but this wasn’t strictness, it was cruelty.
A teacher is meant to guide students, not humiliate them or crush their self-worth.
From his tone alone, you could hear the contempt he held for peasant children.

The woman misunderstood and thought Qi Beinan was interested in enrolling a student. She lowered her voice and advised him kindly,
“Surname’s Chen. But if you ask me, don’t send your little lad to someone like that. Strict’s one thing, but he’s too strict. The quieter kids are so scared of him they can’t even concentrate, let alone learn.”

For some reason, someone popped into Qi Beinan’s mind just then.

Before he could think too deeply about it, more yelling spilled out from the open gate:

“Take your book and stand by the door to listen! You’ve been reading for years now — I’m not asking for eloquence, but you can’t even answer a question without stammering. What’ll happen if you get called to court and the Emperor questions you? You’ll piss your pants from fear!”

“Though with the way you’re going, I doubt you’ll ever make it to the capital. Good thing too — saves me the shame of having my student disgrace me in front of the Emperor.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes went wide, and his breath tightened. He pressed himself against Qi Beinan’s leg, trying to hide, and whispered anxiously, “That teacher’s really scary. He’s scarier than father. I don’t want to study when I grow up.”

Qi Beinan covered Xiao Yuanbao’s ears and said gently, “Not all teachers are scary. My father was a teacher, and he wasn’t scary at all.”

Just as he was comforting the child, he looked up — and saw a familiar figure.

The boy being scolded stood there, his eyes red and brimming with tears, hands trembling, palms swollen from being struck. Holding a copy of The Analects, he carefully walked to the doorway and stood there.

Their eyes met. The boy froze — then his face turned beet red, almost the color of liver.

The tears that had been clinging to the corners of his eyes finally spilled over, falling not from pain, but from shame. He quickly turned away, not wanting anyone in the street to recognize him.

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to call out “Brother Zhao!” — but Qi Beinan, quick as lightning, clamped a hand over his mouth.

Furrowing his brow, Qi Beinan feigned ignorance and quietly pulled Xiao Yuanbao back into the alley.

“That was Brother Zhao!” Xiao Yuanbao said in a hushed, urgent voice.

Qi Beinan nodded as they walked. “It was. You didn’t mistake him.”

“Then why didn’t you let me call him?”

Qi Beinan was surprised too — he had known that Zhao Guangzong studied at a private academy in the county, but not which one.

Just yesterday, Zhao had shown such unease when talking about his studies. Now it made sense.

He patiently explained, “Brother Zhao just got scolded by his teacher. He’s already feeling terrible. If someone he knows saw him like that, it’d only make him feel worse.”

Xiao Yuanbao half-understood, but nodded obediently.

He glanced back at the open courtyard one last time and saw Brother Zhao standing with his head bowed low.

Xiao Yuanbao had a strong sense of empathy. He thought that if he had been yelled at like that, he’d definitely cry — probably even harder than Brother Zhao.

He remembered how just yesterday, Brother Zhao had brought him fruit cakes.

He tugged on Qi Beinan’s hand and said, “Let’s buy some candied fruit for Brother Zhao too. If he eats something sweet, his heart won’t hurt so much.”

Qi Beinan smiled, ruffled the boy’s hair, and agreed, “Alright.”

Later that afternoon, Qi Beinan dropped Xiao Yuanbao off at the Fang household. He needed to make a trip to the Zhao home.

“I’ll come back to pick you up. The sun’s already getting low — don’t run around too much and get all sweaty. If it turns cold later, you’ll catch a chill.”

He gently touched the back of Xiao Yuanbao’s undershirt as he reminded him.

“Got it! I won’t run. Fang Jie’ers going to teach me how to tie my hair!”

“That’s perfect, then.”

Qi Beinan pinched his cheek playfully. “Now Brother’s off to see Brother Zhao.”

“Wait, Brother!”

Xiao Yuanbao tugged at his sleeve. Qi Beinan crouched down, and the boy leaned in close to whisper in his ear:
“Don’t forget the candied fruit for Brother Zhao. Tell him not to cry anymore.”

“I won’t forget,” Qi Beinan said with a smile. “I’ve got it all in my head.”

Xiao Yuanbao hugged his big meat bun and ran happily into the Fang courtyard to share it with Fang Jie’er and Fang Ge’er.

Only then did Qi Beinan quicken his pace toward the Zhao home.

But when he arrived, Zhao Guangzong hadn’t yet returned from school.

Luckily, Qi Beinan had brought along two books, saying he wished to discuss some topics with Guangzong.

Village Head Zhao and Madam Zhang were delighted and welcomed him in. They poured him tea and even brought out a plate of dried fruits.

“Guangzong used to live with his maternal grandfather in town when he was younger,” Village Head Zhao explained. “He only came home during rest days. It’s only now that he’s older that he makes the trip back and forth every day.”

He chatted with Qi Beinan as they waited. “Thankfully, the academy lets out early in the day. It’s only the mornings that are hard — he has to get up and be ready before dawn.”

“It’s fine during summer and autumn, but winter’s rough. Riding the ox cart, the wind can nearly tear your ears off. His hands freeze so bad he can hardly hold a brush — and the school doesn’t even have hot water.”

“I was thinking,” Village Head Zhao said, “if he’s got some aptitude for his studies and can pass the county-level exam, then even if his mother and I had to borrow a bit of silver, we’d grit our teeth and rent a small courtyard in town. That way, he wouldn’t have to work so hard just to study.”

Qi Beinan figured, given the Zhao family’s means, it probably wouldn’t be too difficult for them to get a small place in town for Zhao Guangzong. It seemed unlikely they’d really need to borrow money.

Still, he listened quietly. Such is the heart of parents — full of love and concern. The elderly couple clearly cherished their son deeply, though they probably didn’t yet realize the kind of hardship he was facing at his current school in town.

He replied, “If Zhao Guangzong knew what you and Madam Zhang were planning for his future, he’d surely be deeply moved.”

Village Head Zhao smiled contentedly and sipped his tea. He was just about to invite Qi Beinan to visit more often, when the servant outside called in:

“Young Master Guangzong is back!”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Spring arrived, and the village fields came alive again—it was time for spring plowing.

The old green of the mountain slopes had been replaced by new sprouts. Pheasants and deer were likely growing more active too.

If it were a typical year, Xiao Hu would have already gone up the mountain after the new year and returned once around early February. But now it was already well into the season, and he had yet to depart.

He was torn—unsure whether he should continue making a living in the mountains, or give up the trade and stay by the village fields to farm.

Now that there were no adults left at home—just two children—if he still went into the mountains, he feared no one would be there to hold things down in case anything happened.

Yet if he didn’t go and stayed home to work the fields… he wasn’t much good at farming either.

And even that aside, most of the land had already been leased out at the end of last year. The tenants had already turned the soil twice—if he suddenly took the fields back now, it’d be inappropriate, especially since those tenants were long-time acquaintances.

The more he thought, the harder it became to make a decision.

“If you want to go into the mountains, just go without worry, Uncle Xiao. I can manage things at home.”

Qi Beinan had noticed Xiao Hu frequently gazing toward the mountains these past days, and could more or less guess what troubled him. Since Xiao Hu couldn’t decide for himself, Qi Beinan gave him a gentle push.

During breakfast, he brought it up.

Xiao Hu spooned his porridge and frowned. “How can I leave everything to a child?”

“I’m already eleven now. In large households, girls of that age are already learning to manage accounts and housework—and I’m a boy.”

Qi Beinan continued, “If you’re truly worried, just keep your mountain trips short. Come back every five or six days to check in, so Xiao Bao doesn’t miss you too much. I’ll be here in the village, and if anything comes up, we can have Brother Fang go into the mountains to find you. With the Fang family watching out for us, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Most of the land is leased out. Of the few remaining acres you’ve already turned over this month, I’ll just take Xiao Bao and plant a few vegetable seedlings. It’s no hard task.”

Xiao Hu was reassured by the conversation and finally made up his mind.

After breakfast, he brought a slab of preserved meat and a bag of white flour to the Fang family to ask their help in watching over the house.

That very afternoon, he packed a basket with some rice and flour, plus a small piece of dried meat.

It was spring—no need to bring fresh greens. The mountains were full of wild vegetables: water celery by the stream, shepherd’s purse in the sun, Chinese toon, wild scallions, crown daisy, purslane…

But Xiao Hu, once in the mountains, rarely had time to gather or eat such things.

“Father’s going up the mountain?”

Xiao Yuanbao stared at his father as he packed grain into his basket.

“Mm, just for five or six days this time. I’ll come right back. While I’m gone, you have to listen to your brother.”

Xiao Hu cupped his son’s cheek. In just two months, the child had grown rounder and fairer. He used to look so scrawny and sickly, his chin all sharp—now his little face was plump and glowing with health.

Back then, he’d pushed himself into the mountains to earn more, hoping to give his family a better life. He never expected it would turn out the opposite.

Now he understood—money was necessary, but time spent caring for your children was just as important. Otherwise, all the money in the world wouldn’t truly benefit them.

From now on, whether he had goods or not, he would come home more often.

“Mm! Xiao Bao knows!”

Xiao Yuanbao spread his fingers: “Gege already taught me numbers. Now I can count when you’ll be home.”

“Good boy.”

Later, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao walked him down to the foot of the mountain.

Xiao Bao bounced along the soft dry road and even asked for a little rabbit. But as Xiao Hu turned the corner and began to vanish up the path, the child’s lips quivered and his eyes turned red.

He had to be carried home in Qi Beinan’s arms.

Qi Beinan comforted him, saying they’d go dig some wild scallions later and make dumplings. That finally brought a reaction—Xiao Bao, face still streaked with tears, looked up earnestly and asked, “Who’s going to knead the dough and wrap the dumplings?”

“Gege can do it.”

Xiao Bao sniffled and whispered, “Grandma Sun knows how to make dumplings.”

Qi Beinan: “…”

He felt a bit personally attacked—his cooking wasn’t worse than Xiao Hu’s!

“…Fine, we’ll trouble Grandma Sun, then.”

Xiao Bao quickly added, “We’ll wait till Father comes back to eat them.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll wait.”

Qi Beinan patted the loyal little cub. “Our Xiao Bao is such a thoughtful boy.”

Back home, he cracked a hickory nut for Xiao Bao to snack on. The child, finally cheered up, trotted off with a small pan of vegetable scraps to feed the chickens and ducks, then went to check if the hens had laid any eggs.

Qi Beinan planned to go to the county town early the next day to buy some sturdy new seedlings—second and third month was just the right time to sow melons and beans.

If you didn’t plant now, there’d be nothing to eat later. A farming household with land had no excuse not to grow vegetables.

He also wanted to pick up some ready-to-heat meat and vegetables so Yuanbao could eat more heartily.

“Gege! Someone’s here!”

Qi Beinan was rummaging through the storage shed, looking for leftover seeds to avoid buying duplicates.

Just as he found some string bean and cucumber seeds, he heard Xiao Yuanbao dash inside, calling out.

 “Who is it?”

Xiao Yuanbao shook his head and simply said, “It’s a gege too, but Xiao Bao doesn’t know him.”

Qi Beinan found this strange. Who could be coming that even Xiao Yuanbao didn’t recognize?

He quickly stepped out and, sure enough, saw a young man outside the courtyard. He looked about the same age as Qi Beinan.

The youth’s hair was tied at the crown, with a West-Lake-colored ribbon hanging evenly at the back. He wore a well-fitted spring robe in a cross-collar style, the same blue hue as the ribbon.

When he saw someone approach, he smiled slightly and made a polite bow.

Qi Beinan immediately recognized him as a fellow scholar and had a guess in mind.

“I’m the third son of the Zhao family from the Ba area in the village. At the end of last year, Scholar Qi gifted me a copybook and a volume of Classic of Filial Piety. I’ve come today to personally offer my thanks.”

As expected—it was the son of Village Head Zhao.

Qi Beinan quickly invited him inside and poured him tea in the main hall.

“Receiving your books and copybook filled me with joy,” Zhao Guangzong said sincerely. “I had long wished to come and express my thanks, but my father said the Xiao household had family matters recently, so I didn’t dare intrude. Then private school resumed, and it’s only during this rest day that I could finally come by.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Scholar Zhao is far too polite. When I first arrived in the village, I was fortunate to receive village head’s help. I heard that you were a fellow student and thought to send over a copybook and an old classic—it’s good you didn’t mind how rough they were.”

“How could I mind! Books are hard to come by. Whether new or old, a book is still a treasure.”

Zhao Guangzong’s face was full of earnest seriousness—a clear appreciation and respect for books.

Qi Beinan felt some warmth toward him for that.

“I didn’t bring much today,” Zhao Guangzong continued. “Just a stack of coarse paper. Our teacher says at our age, our handwriting is starting to set—so the more we write, the better. It uses up a lot of paper.”

He took out a stack of broad writing paper—ten sheets thick, each large enough to be cut into eight pieces for letter writing. The texture was finer than the roughest grade.

Then he took out a parcel of cakes and offered it to Xiao Yuanbao, who had been quietly listening nearby.

“It’s been a while since I saw Bao Ge’er. I brought some fruit cakes along the way.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lifted with surprise. He hadn’t expected this unfamiliar gege to bring something for him too.

But instead of reaching for it, he looked toward Qi Beinan first.

“Go ahead and take it. This is Third Gege from Uncle Zhao’s house.”

Only then did Yuanbao accept it, sweetly saying, “Thank you, Third Gege.”

Zhao Guangzong smiled at the soft, fair child and said to Qi Beinan:

“The last time I saw Bao Ge’er was when Aunt Sun was still around. It’s no surprise he doesn’t recognize me now. I study at a private school in town, gone early and back late—not as familiar with folks in the village.”

Qi Beinan joked, “Good on you to still remember the little ones in the village and even bring snacks—he’ll be calling you Gege from a mile away next time.”

Zhao Guangzong chuckled, then turned and asked:

“May I ask if Scholar Qi is currently studying anywhere?”

“No.”

Qi Beinan didn’t bother hiding anything. Since they got along well enough, he shared the story of how he’d come to rely on the Xiao family.

“I can’t sit for exams these two years. It’s just as well to help Uncle Xiao manage the household for now.”

“Sit for exams?”

Zhao Guangzong had already heard from his father about Qi Beinan’s background. Seeing how calmly he shared these heavy matters, Zhao Guangzong felt deep admiration.

When he realized Qi Beinan couldn’t take the exams due to mourning, yet had already been prepared to, envy flickered across his face—followed by a trace of discouragement.

“It must be a blessing to be able to take the exam,” he said quietly.

Qi Beinan noticed something off in his tone.

“There’s a child examination next year. Does Scholar Zhao not plan to attempt it?”

Zhao Guangzong immediately shook his head, eyes dropping.

“I’m too dull-witted. I’ll only embarrass my teacher.”

“Why would you belittle yourself like this?”

Qi Beinan noted that Zhao Guangzong wasn’t just being modest—it was genuine lack of confidence.

“The child exam is only the first of the civil exams. Unlike the later big competitions, one should take it often and gain experience. If you fear the child exam and worry about losing confidence, what happens when you one day travel to the provincial capital or even the capital itself? Enduring hardship only to fail—wouldn’t that be worse for your morale?”

Zhao Guangzong looked at him. At the mention of school and exams, his steady demeanor slipped, revealing the anxiety of someone still young.

“M-my handwriting is poor. I can’t answer the policy questions well either. I really am a useless student. My teacher won’t allow students like me to take the exam early.”

Qi Beinan paused.

It was true that schoolteachers sometimes advised students whether to sit for the exam or not, but ultimately, the student’s will came first.

It was rare to see a teacher so strict.

He didn’t know the full situation and didn’t want to speak poorly of someone else’s teacher, but Zhao Guangzong clearly had very little confidence in his studies.

So Qi Beinan leaned forward a bit and gently encouraged him:

“No one is born with good handwriting. All the great calligraphers became so through long, hard practice. I’ve rarely heard of a natural-born master. We’re still young—no need to fear just yet.”

“And if a student could answer all the questions easily, why would they still need a teacher? The point of studying is to discover your shortcomings and work on them.”

Zhao Guangzong’s chest heaved with a deep breath. After hearing Qi Beinan’s words, his emotions finally settled.

He cupped his hands toward Qi Beinan.
“Many thanks for your guidance, Scholar Qi. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“Nonsense. For you to speak to me so sincerely, I’m only glad for it. Since I came from Qiu County, I’ve had only one relative here, and no friends. You and I are of similar age, and we both study the Classics—being able to chat like this today has brought me real joy.”

Zhao Guangzong smiled faintly.
“I feel the same. There are many boys in the village around my age, but most of them farm. I’ve been in school since young, so they speak to me politely but not closely. It’s hard to have a proper conversation.”

“Indeed. When you’re caught up in study, it’s easy to drift away from old friends.”

Zhao Guangzong saw how thoughtful and understanding Qi Beinan was. He tightened his lips and, testing the waters, asked:

“If Scholar Qi doesn’t mind me disturbing you… in the future, when I’m off from school, may I come by to speak with you again?”

Qi Beinan raised his brows.
“That would be wonderful. I was about to invite you myself, but I was afraid it might interrupt your studies.”

Zhao Guangzong was overjoyed that he hadn’t been rejected. He even felt a bit moved.

The two of them spoke for quite a while—so long that they had drunk three bowls of tea.

Eventually, Zhao Guangzong began to feel the need for the toilet and realized it was nearly time for the evening meal. Reluctantly, he took his leave.

By the time he arrived home, smoke was already rising from the Zhao family kitchen, and dinner was being drained in a bamboo sieve.

“Where’ve you been for so long?”

Village Head Zhao, now quite busy with spring approaching, had come home earlier and already drunk a bowl of wine. When he saw his son just arriving, he couldn’t help asking.

The boy was usually diligent in his studies. When he came home from private school, he either read or wrote, and rarely visited anyone in the village. Even if he did, he never stayed longer than it took for a stick of incense to burn. Today, he had spent over an hour at the Xiao household—truly unusual.

“I had a good talk with Scholar Qi, so I stayed a bit longer without realizing.”

Zhao Guangzong spoke with a cheerful air. Talking about his visit to the Xiao home put him in high spirits.

Then, more seriously, he said to his father:
“I think Scholar Qi is honest and gracious. He came all the way from Jiangzhou to our village and, apart from the Xiao family, has no kin or friends. Father, I hope you’ll look after him a little more in the future.”

His mother, Madam Zhang, had a skirt tied around her waist. Hearing their conversation, she carried a basket of vegetables over.

“Our Guangzong is usually buried in books and doesn’t concern himself with anything outside. Today’s really something—he’s even speaking on someone else’s behalf, asking his father to take care of them.”

Village Head Zhao put down his wine cup. He and Madam Zhang had three children altogether—the first two were daughters, both married. The youngest was this son. Being the only son left at home, Village Head  cherished him dearly.

He smiled and said:
“Even if my own son didn’t ask, I’d still look after that boy. His father was a xiucai—more learned than I’ll ever be. That child grew up listening and watching, so his learning surely surpasses most village boys. If you’re fond of him and want to be friends, it just proves you’ve got a good eye.”

Zhao Guangzong grinned and thanked his father.

The idea that he might finally have a friend made him almost giddy with happiness.

Zhao Guangzong, being the only son of the village head, wasn’t like the average farming household that worried about food and clothing. His parents doted on him and placed high hopes in his future, sending him off to study in town since he was young.

In the villagers’ eyes, he was blessed—learning from a proper teacher, associating with young city gentlemen, and possessing a bright future.

But what others saw as glory concealed the truth: once he got to the county’s private school, all his village prestige meant nothing.

His classmates were all sons of wealthy or noble families—arrogant and aloof, unwilling to speak to someone beneath their station.

In the city, Zhao Guangzong didn’t have a single close friend. In fact, he barely had anyone to talk to. What he got instead was snubs and exclusion.

When he returned to the village, he couldn’t even have a proper chat with his old playmates. Some envied his life in town; others just wanted to flatter him and beg favors from his father.

It left him utterly miserable.

But how could he explain that to his parents? And if he tried to tell his village friends, they’d only say he was ungrateful for all his blessings.

Over time, he simply stopped playing with his peers and kept to himself. Then the village said he’d grown proud and looked down on them.

He was heartbroken, but powerless to change it. So he stayed home whenever he returned, burying himself in books and writing.

Even when his parents urged him to go out more, he refused. Though he looked like a gentle and mild-mannered youth, his heart was burdened with countless worries. He was hesitant and never smiled.

When he first heard that a scholar had come to the village, he paid little mind.

It was his father who said: “You’re both students, about the same age. Go meet him. Share some thoughts on studying—it won’t hurt.” But Zhao Guangzong  was already too timid to make friends anymore. He didn’t want to go.

But then, the copybook and the book arrived from Qi Beinan’s hand.

Even if he dreaded socializing, manners and propriety demanded he go thank the boy.

He hadn’t expected much.

Yet now—he found himself thinking, “Why didn’t I go sooner?”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

At first, Qin Niazi had absolutely refused—crying and making a scene day after day.

When the Qin family got word, Old Madam Gu and her daughter-in-law came to the Xiao household, grabbing onto Xiao Hu and weeping as they spun their tale of suffering.

But Xiao Hu had already made up his mind. He remained unmoved, putting on the same taciturn mountain-man temperament he always wore when up in the hills—no matter how much the two women cried, he gave them no response.

Initially, Xiao Hu didn’t want to issue a xiushu—a formal dismissal—to preserve Qin Niazi’s last shred of dignity. But seeing how her family was clinging and pestering him, he began to consider it seriously.

Strangely enough, before Xiao Hu could even mention formal dismissal, Qin Niazi suddenly relented. Whether she had a change of heart or simply saw no way out, she agreed to the heli (mutual separation).

On the 24th of the first lunar month, Village Head Zhao and a few other respected elders from the village came to the Xiao household to oversee the heli.

Technically, the Qin family was supposed to send two senior clan members as well—but since the Qin household lived far away, and this was already a second marriage ending in separation, their clan elders felt it was shameful and refused to come.

Only members of her immediate family showed up. Father Qin either truly was too ill to travel or simply didn’t want to come. Either way, he wasn’t present.

The only male present from her side was Eldest Qin, who arrived with his wife and mother.

Inside the main hall, the two families sat facing each other. Village Head Zhao read aloud the pre-written heli document. Though it was a loss of face, most village folk were illiterate. Reading it out loud ensured everyone understood and prevented any future disputes.

Qi Beinan, sitting in the inner room, listened. For rural households like this, documents like divorce or separation papers weren’t composed with poetic flourish. They were usually based on the standard format used by official matchmakers. Dry and formulaic, but safe and without error.

When the reading was finished, Eldest Qin spoke up a little uneasily: “The document’s fine, but my sister came all the way from Ligao Village to marry into your Geshan Village. Now that she’s separating and returning home, the Xiao family should offer her some compensation.”

Before Xiao Hu could respond, Village Head Zhao quickly defended his fellow villager: “Qin Niazi married into the Xiao family and didn’t even bear a single child. What compensation?”

Old Madam Gu jumped in: “It’s commonly said that only after three years without children can you fault a wife. My daughter hasn’t even been here two full years yet!”

Village Head Zhao wanted to speak on Xiao Hu’s behalf again, but he didn’t know the real reason for the separation, so he didn’t know how to counter that.

Seeing that no one had a response, Eldest Qin puffed out his chest and said, “We’re not asking for much. Five mu of land from the Xiao family—that way, when my sister returns with a child to care for, at least she’ll have enough to eat.”

“Five mu?!” Village Head Zhao’s eyes widened. “We’re not talking about a rich county here, but even average land costs five to six strings of cash per mu. Five mu would be twenty to thirty strings of cash—enough to marry a new wife! That’s outrageous!”

One of the elders also shook his head. “Unacceptable. We country folk don’t go by rules like that. Since it’s a mutual separation, Qin Niazi can take her full dowry and return with it. That’s all.”

But Eldest Qin and Old Madam Gu wouldn’t have it. When Qin Niazi married into the Xiao family, they’d taken fifteen strings of cash as a bride price. The only dowry she brought was a three-catty cotton quilt.

Sure, three catties of cotton wasn’t cheap—it’d cost over two strings of cash—but the cotton was just old household scrap they’d sent to the market to be re-fluffed. It was worth maybe a string, tops.

Other than that, she’d brought nothing.

So if she were only allowed to take her dowry back, it would be as good as leaving empty-handed.

“If the Xiao family doesn’t offer compensation, don’t even think about my sister putting her seal on that paper!”

Eldest Qin stiffened his neck. Having spent time in gambling dens, he no longer acted like some simple honest farmer—he was utterly shameless.

“Don’t think just because there are more of you, you can push us around.”

At this point, Xiao Hu, who had remained silent the entire time, finally spoke:

“I haven’t said what Qin Niazi did wrong because I wanted to leave you a bit of dignity. But if you keep causing trouble here, this won’t be a mutual separation anymore—it’ll be a formal dismissal. I’ll go to the county and ask the official matchmaker to intervene.”

Qin Niazi’s face instantly changed.

The things she had done—put mildly, they were petty. But if taken seriously, they counted as jealousy and slander—two of the “Seven Grounds for Dismissal.”

If a county-appointed matchmaker came and ruled that she was at fault and Xiao Hu issued a xiushu, even in this modern era of remarriage, her reputation would be ruined, and it would be near impossible for her to find another husband.

She was in her thirties now but still had some looks—mature and graceful. She had no intention of living out her days as a bitter widow after leaving the Xiao household.

Seeing Xiao Hu had hardened his stance, she realized he meant what he said and would absolutely go through with it.

Before her greedy brother could ruin her chances even further, she clenched her teeth, stood up, dipped her thumb in the red ink, and firmly pressed it onto the heli document.

“I agree with the elders’ decision.”

The Qin family was stunned.

Eldest Qin was so furious he shouted, “Fool! This is a division of household and marriage—you’re trying to act tough for what?!”

Qin Niazi said nothing. She had other plans and a backup path now. She swallowed her pride and didn’t argue with her brother—but she wasn’t afraid of him either.

The seal was already stamped. Even if they wanted to undo it now, it was useless. Further fuss would only land them in front of a magistrate. Though Eldest Qin was angry, all he could do now was grit his teeth and shut his mouth.

Seeing this, Xiao Hu straightforwardly stamped his own seal.

And with that, they were no longer husband and wife.

Qi Beinan, watching from nearby, was quietly relieved that Xiao Hu hadn’t given in to the Qin family’s outrageous demands.

After that, Xiao Hu and Qin Niazi settled accounts. Qi Beinan kept the records. In the end, they got Qin Niazi to hand over nearly ten strings of cash.

Qi Beinan suspected that there was probably more, but anything she had already handed off to others would be hard to recover. Still, it likely wasn’t much—after all, the Xiao household was no wealthy clan to begin with.

Even if Qin Niazi still had some money hidden away, no one wanted to fuss over it anymore. After all, they had once been husband and wife.

Besides, she was leaving with a child. A widowed mother with a son had a hard road ahead—there was no need to make things too cruel.

In the end, when the Qin family came to take her home, all they carried away was a single bundle—an old cotton quilt.

Chao Ge’er had a bundle tied to his back too, filled with his clothes.

He trailed behind Madam Gu, glancing back at Xiao Yuanbao standing in the courtyard, dressed in a soft cloud-blue cotton coat that made his small face look especially fair and delicate.

Even someone as slow as Chao Ge’er could tell—he and his mother were leaving the Xiao family for good. Just like when they had left the Wang family, there was no coming back.

Thinking of the watery radish soup at his grandparents’ house, with no oil or meat, he felt miserable. And seeing Xiao Yuanbao staying behind, eating so many delicious things and even wearing new clothes, only made him angrier.

When Xiao Yuanbao waved goodbye, it felt like he was showing off. Chao Ge’er glared at him fiercely, turned around, and stomped off ahead of Old Madam Gu.

“Gege, is Qin Niazi and Chao Ge’er going back to Grandma Gu’s place again?”

Xiao Yuanbao didn’t understand and tilted his head, asking Qi Beinan, “Why did I wave to them, but they looked like they weren’t happy?”

Xiao Hu heard the child’s question and came over, squatting down: “Because from now on… Qin Niazi and Chao Ge’er won’t be coming back.”

“Why not?!”

Xiao Yuanbao was shocked. They always came back before, even after they left.

Xiao Hu didn’t know how to explain the concept of divorce to a child. But he felt it was necessary to help him understand that Qin Niazi and Wang Chao Ge’er would no longer be part of this household, so he wouldn’t keep waiting for them.

He stayed quiet. He didn’t want to tell the child that Qin Niazi left because she mistreated him. Children don’t understand and might only feel guilty.

“Xiao Bao’s still too little. You wouldn’t understand yet.”

“If you still remember them when you’re older, then you’ll understand. If you forget, that’s okay too. When the time comes, Gege and your father will tell you, alright?”

Qi Beinan stepped in to help Xiao Hu out of the awkward moment.

That was also why he never badmouthed Qin Niazi in front of Xiao Yuanbao.

He wanted the child to grow up with the sense that he had been loved. That even if life was hard, he could be carefree for a little while, without resentment or confusion over why Qin Niazi didn’t like him.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded solemnly, half-understanding.

“Gege will always be here. Even if Qin Niazi and Chao Ge’er never come back, and your father goes up the mountain, Xiao Bao won’t be alone.”

Qi Beinan gently voiced all of Xiao Yuanbao’s unspoken fears, so the child wouldn’t have to imagine the worst on his own.

Hearing that, Xiao Yuanbao smiled again, his eyes curving into happy crescents. “Mm!”

Seeing this, Xiao Hu finally let out a long sigh of relief. He reached out and gave Qi Beinan’s shoulder a firm squeeze.

In truth, he had come to understand something himself—if Qi Beinan had never come to their home, he might still be blind to Qin Niazi’s true nature. Who knew how long it would’ve taken him to notice?

And even if he had learned the truth without Beinan there, would he have had the resolve to separate from her so cleanly?

He had worried about no one being around to care for Xiao Bao, but if he’d kept Qin Niazi despite the broken trust, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night.

But with Qi Beinan in the house—young as he was—Xiao Hu could tell the boy was thoughtful, steady, and far more experienced than many grown men in the village.

With him watching over Xiao Bao, Xiao Hu had the courage to draw the line with Qin Niazi.

Now that this major ordeal was over, Xiao Hu finally felt some peace in his heart. It was just a pity the New Year had been turned upside down thanks to the trouble from the Qin family.

…

So the days passed again.

In early February, though the weather still had lingering cold spells, thick coats still needed in the morning and evening, the skies had cleared. In the fields, tender grasses had begun to grow densely.

And the fruit trees in sunlit corners—those that bloomed early—had already opened finger-sized white blossoms.

That morning, Grandma Sun came by to invite Xiao Hu and his household for dinner that evening.

Things had been so unsettled recently that Xiao Hu had sent Xiao Yuanbao to stay at the Fang household, afraid the child would witness more of the Qin family’s antics.

So Xiao Hu readily agreed and said he’d bring along some wine for the table.

Grandma Sun told him not to bother—just come empty-handed and enjoy. Fang Youliang had already prepared everything.

In the afternoon, when Xiao Yuanbao woke from his nap and learned they were going to eat at the Fang household, he immediately wanted to go early and play with the other kids.

Qi Beinan took him over first.

“Xiao Bao’s here!”

As they reached the Fang courtyard, they saw Fang Jie’er and Fang Ge’er by the little stone bridge, washing vegetables.

When they spotted Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan, they immediately called out with bright smiles.

Fang Jie’er was already thirteen. Fang Ge’er was the same age as Qi Beinan, though a little older by months.

The Fang family lived a modest life, and the two children were thin and small—both looked younger than they really were.

Technically, both were older than Qi Beinan, but in terms of presence and bearing, he far outmatched them.

Usually, he spoke with their older brother Fang Youliang directly. The two kids respected Qi Beinan greatly and didn’t treat him like a junior.

Fang Jie’er was quiet and shy, but had a sweet voice. When she heard Qi Beinan was a scholar, she started calling him “Mr. Qi” and taught Fang Ge’er to do the same.

“Come on inside, we slaughtered a duck today—Bao Ge’er’s getting the big drumstick later!”

Grandma Sun, who was crouched and scalding duck feathers with boiling water, beamed when she saw Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan arriving so early.

“Aiyoh, my sweet boy, what’s with your wild hair?”

After greeting Second Sister and Third Brother, Xiao Yuanbao cheerfully shouted “Grandma Sun!” and ran over, wanting to help pluck feathers when he saw what she was doing.

Grandma Sun looked at the little one up close—his soft, fluffy hair was sticking up all over, some slicked flat at the back of his head. What a darling sight.

“Sweet boy, go call Second Sister to help you comb your hair. Don’t go plucking feathers—be careful or you’ll scald your hands. Your Second Sister is real good with hair.”

Qi Beinan said with a smile, “He just woke up from a nap. As soon as he got out of bed, he was fussing to come over and play.”

Grandma Sun watched as Fang Jie’er took Xiao Yuanbao into the house, then leaned in to speak quietly with Qi Beinan:

“Grandma knows. To us in the household, the child’s little tousled hair looks cute. But if the village gossips catch sight of it, they’ll twist it into something nasty again. Saying he’s a poor kid without a mother or little father, so messy-headed, just a dirty little thing. Now that Qin Niazi’s left, if that kind of talk gets out, it’ll be ugly. Bad for the child to hear, and hard on your Uncle Xiao too.”

Qi Beinan nodded solemnly. “Grandma Sun, you’re very thoughtful. It was careless of me.”

Grandma Sun chuckled. “Silly child, it’s not your fault. You’re just a boy—not used to this sort of thing. I’ll have Fang Jie’er teach Bao Ge’er how to comb his own hair. A little boy’s hair is simple, he’ll pick it up soon enough.”

“Alright.”

And indeed, Grandma Sun hadn’t praised her daughter in vain—Fang Jie’er had quick and clever hands. In less than fifteen minutes, she had tamed Xiao Yuanbao’s wild hair into neat, obedient order.

She parted it on both sides and styled it into two little ram-horn puffs—playful and adorable.

When Qi Beinan had brought Xiao Yuanbao over earlier, he’d already noticed the Fang children’s hair was always tidy. Their clothes may have been patched and plain, but with well-combed hair, they looked bright and full of spirit.

Xiao Yuanbao ran over happily and told him, “Fang Jie’er even put some hair oil in for me! It smells like osmanthus!”

Qi Beinan leaned close to sniff with a grin. “Mmm, it smells wonderful. Did Xiao Bao thank Fang Jie’er?”

“I did!”

Xiao Yuanbao piped up proudly, “I said thank you in the house already!”

Fang Jie’er laughed softly behind her hand and said, “That osmanthus hair oil is homemade—from wild blossoms picked in the hills during autumn. It’s not as fancy as the ones sold in town. Fang Ge’ers hair is thick and frizzy, and it gets wild after tying, so I use hair oil to tame it. Bao Ge’er’s hair is fine and easy to comb, so I just dabbed a little on the comb to add a nice scent.”

Qi Beinan looked at Xiao Yuanbao’s slightly yellowish hair and thought to himself: fine and smooth, sure—but also kind of sparse.

He remembered that some people had strange ideas in the past, blaming others for “pressing out” their hair by lying on it wrong. Hairdressers would even complain that they couldn’t properly tie it up.

But clearly, some kids were just born with thinner hair…

Stifling his laughter, he went off to chat with the old man in the house.

Later on, the warm smell of stewed duck wafted out from the kitchen. Fang Youliang had also returned from town.

He came back with his arms full—wine-marinated fish, a pound of stir-fried lungs, two pounds of marinated meat, and twelve wild vegetable-and-bacon pancakes.

At home, they had stewed the duck with dried bamboo shoots and pickled radish, and made stir-fried toon sprouts with duck eggs.

The table was completely covered with delicious dishes.

When Xiao Hu arrived, he was surprised. Even the New Year feast hadn’t been this good.

“I don’t remember today being any special occasion.”

Truthfully, the Fang family’s New Year meal had been plain this year. But since they’d already lived through harder times, it didn’t feel like a poor year either.

Fang Youliang came out grinning, hugging a wine jar. “Brother Xiao’s memory is no good—can’t even remember a day like this.”

“So what day is it then? Aunt Sun told me to come empty-handed, and I actually did!”

Xiao Hu saw that Fang Youliang was keeping it vague and started to worry he’d forgotten someone’s birthday or something important.

Qi Beinan helped lay out the chopsticks and laughed. “Uncle Xiao may have forgotten, but I remember exactly what today is.”

Fang Youliang clapped Qi Beinan on the shoulder. “Leave it to Xiao Qi.”

On Minor New Year’s Day, Fang Youliang had nervously clutched that labor token like a thief as he headed to the county office to report in. He was afraid of losing the token, and even more afraid of walking into the government office—heart pounding and totally unsure if what Qi Beinan said about the job was even true.

But there were plenty of others reporting in with the same token. He asked around and got confirmation—it was real.

After registering at the records office, he was assigned work that very day.

Some went to help repair the city wall; others were sent to tidy up the county office. Word was, an official from the prefecture was due for inspection, so the county magistrate was scrambling to make the place look respectable.

There was no time, so they needed extra labor.

Now that the job was done, the Household Office had paid out the wages to the workers.

In total, he’d done 25 full days of work and earned over two strings of cash and 25 liters of rice.

Fang Youliang had already told his family he wanted to throw a proper meal once the job was finished—and invite Xiao Hu and Qi Beinan for a real feast.

The Fang family was all in favor. Regardless of the fact that this job had been found for them, over the years, it had always been the Xiao family bringing good things and inviting them to meals, while their own family rarely hosted guests. So they took this opportunity to properly express their thanks.

Thus came today’s table full of food and wine.

Fang Youliang was very thoughtful—he brought wine and also fetched two large jugs of sweetened tea for Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao, and for his younger siblings who didn’t drink.

Now that he had gained a bit of worldly experience, he smiled and chatted with everyone about the good fortune of working at the county office.

“I heard the others talking—some of them have worked for the county twice, some four or five times already! Me? I was still a greenhorn, my first time. City folks have wide connections and know the news.”

“I came late and didn’t know the ropes. I’m not good with words, and when folks heard I was a farmhand, they didn’t think I was worth chatting with. So I just kept quiet, worked hard, got through the day. After all these days, though, I didn’t really make any useful contacts.”

“But guess what happened today when I went to collect my wages, Brother Xiao—can you believe it?”

Xiao Hu, drinking, looked spirited and leaned in with interest. “What happened?”

“Our supervisor, a guy named Liu from the labor department—lives on Feiyu Lane—he actually called me over separately after the work ended. Asked for my name and where I lived, said he’d reach out next time there’s work!”

Xiao Hu raised his brows. “Really?”

Fang Youliang still couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s true! If he wasn’t serious, how would I even know which street and lane he lives on?”

Qi Beinan was pleased to hear it too.

Fang Youliang was young and strong, honest, and diligent. The supervisors saw that and naturally would want to hire him again.

Most jobs through the county office came through personal connections, but not entirely—it still took real workers to get things done.

The whole Fang family was overjoyed.

Grandma Sun knew full well that the good fortune her son had now was because of the doors opened by Xiao Hu and Qi Beinan. Her heart brimmed with gratitude.

She poured Xiao Hu more wine and served extra food to Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao.

“Grandma, let me help—this duck’s been stewed so well, not even a hint of that gamey smell.”

Qi Beinan even had a bowl of duck soup—just slightly tangy, but fresh and rich. Very appetizing.

“I can’t make fancy dishes,” Grandma Sun said cheerfully, “but I’ve got this one duck dish down. If you like it, eat more—the old duck makes a good soup.”

The whole room was filled with joy and a renewed sense of hope. Even the old master lying on the kang bed beamed and ate two full bowls of meat and vegetables.

That night, Qi Beinan carried Xiao Yuanbao on his back as they made their way home.

After the meal, he could clearly feel that Xiao Hu had finally loosened up. The cloud of worry that had been pressing on him seemed to have lifted.

Though Xiao Hu hadn’t said much these past days, Qi Beinan could sense that the matter with Qin Niazi had been weighing on him.

Not that he missed her or regretted sending her and Chao Ge’er away—it was just that so many things had happened in succession, it was normal to feel stifled and worn.

But after some wine and heartfelt talk with Fang Youliang, and seeing how the struggling Fang family had found new hope, it seemed to have inspired him and lightened his heart.

The moon tonight was faint behind drifting clouds, but the wind stirred and cleared them away, allowing bright moonlight to spill over the courtyard.

Qi Beinan stepped out from Xiao Yuanbao’s room and stood beneath the moonlight, hands behind his back, tilting his head to look up, the corners of his lips lifted in a smile.

Now that the clouds had cleared, it was time to straighten up and prepare to live a new chapter.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚