"Qu Mingli, come to my office for a moment."
Qu Mingli had just returned from handling some errands when Secretary Tang called out to him. He tucked his keys back into his pocket and followed Secretary Tang into the office.
Since helping resolve the system upgrade issue and securing an advanced commendation for Changshan County at the municipal level, their relationship had grown closer. Qu Mingli was undeniably capable and rarely caused trouble—Secretary Tang wasn’t foolish enough to ignore such a useful person.
But it was only June, far too early for logging season, and Qi Fang’s team was steadily working on machine modifications. Qu Mingli couldn’t fathom why Secretary Tang wanted to see him now.
As soon as he stepped inside, Secretary Tang handed him a document stamped with three bold characters: "Petition Letter."
Surprised, Qu Mingli glanced up at Secretary Tang, who nodded in confirmation before he carefully flipped through the pages.
The petition was from the Liuhu Town Forestry Bureau, detailing a litany of misconduct by their current Secretary Hu since his appointment.
The grievances included withholding approved funds, leading to outdated and unrepaired equipment that severely hampered operations.
Favoritism in assigning tasks, bypassing proper channels and delegating only to his inner circle, resulting in chaotic division of responsibilities.
But the most damning were his repeated poor decisions that caused financial losses and harmed collective interests.
Examples were readily available—raising the price of tree stumps once, reneging on deposits another time, each blunder more disastrous than the last.
The entire Liuhu Town Forestry Bureau unanimously agreed that Secretary Hu lacked both the competence and integrity to remain in his position and requested a replacement.
The final page was crammed with signatures—nearly a full sheet’s worth—proof of just how deeply unpopular Secretary Hu had become.
Secretary Tang tapped the petition. "I checked. Aside from one deputy director, every bureau head and forest farm secretary signed this, right at the top." He shook his head. "I’ve only seen this kind of collective demand to oust a leader once before—back when a production brigade’s secretary was so incompetent that annual earnings per labor credit amounted to just twelve cents."
Twelve cents a day. How much could anyone earn in a year at that rate?
The brigade members revolted, collectively ousting their leader and dubbing him "Twelve Cents." But for an official unit to demand a leadership change—this was a first for Secretary Tang. When he first received the petition, he was stunned.
He turned to Qu Mingli. "I’d only heard bits about the deposit issue. What really happened?"
Aside from Deputy Director An, Qu Mingli was the most informed. He recounted the events truthfully.
Secretary Tang’s expression turned grim. Then Qu Mingli added, "And that’s not all. He also tried to buy on credit from the center, but they refused."
Qu Mingli didn’t want Secretary Tang entertaining any notions of mediation. Someone who repeatedly broke promises and made disastrous decisions had no place in a leadership role.
Secretary Tang’s face darkened further. No wonder the cultivation center refused to sell him fungal strains. If he were Zhuang Qixiang, he’d have done the same.
This made the petition even more urgent. Push people too far, and they’d rebel.
Moreover, while Chengshui and Donggou were surging ahead, Liuhu remained stagnant. Keeping someone like Secretary Hu in place would only hurt the county bureau.
After all, neighboring Baisong County already had two towns cultivating edible fungi. As the birthplace of artificial wood ear cultivation, Changshan couldn’t afford to fall behind.
Secretary Tang’s expression hardened. "I’ll give this some thought." But his mind was already made up—Secretary Hu had to go.
True to his word, he raised the issue at the next meeting, proposing Secretary Hu’s transfer to a deputy role elsewhere and a replacement for Liuhu.
Deputy Director An, being the closest to Secretary Hu, naturally spoke in his defense.
A demotion under these circumstances would tarnish Secretary Hu’s career forever, leaving him disdained in his new post.
But with his track record of failures—especially the collapsed wild vegetable venture—no amount of pleading could save him.
The majority voted for the change. The most Deputy Director An could do was notify Secretary Hu afterward, hoping he might find a way to salvage the situation.
It was futile. To prevent complications, Secretary Tang acted swiftly. By the time Deputy Director An relayed the news, the transfer order was already issued.
Fuming, Secretary Hu had no choice but to pack up and leave, vowing to regroup at his new assignment.
The remaining question was his successor. Typically, a bureau head or deputy would be promoted, but no one wanted to inherit such a mess.
Their contract with the cultivation center still had a year left, meaning no fungal strains next year either.
Amid the grumbling, the consensus was to appoint someone with ties to the cultivation center—someone who could mend fences and secure future supplies.
Not just that—with a new leader, the center might set aside past grievances and offer proper guidance, preventing further losses.
The problem was finding such a candidate. Qu Mingli had the closest ties to the center, but sending him was out of the question.
Then there were the Chengshui personnel. Someone suggested Lang Zhongting, a veteran of Jinchuan Forest Farm, who undoubtedly knew his way around fungal cultivation.
"But he’s only been at the town level for under two years," another objected. "Promoting him straight to Liuhu’s top spot might leave him struggling to command respect."
The bureau heads and deputies in Liuhu would resist, and without a foothold in the town or county, he’d end up a figurehead.
Lang Zhongting wasn’t from the county bureau either, so transferring him wouldn’t benefit the department or open up opportunities.
"What about Zhuang Qixiang?" another proposed. "No one’s closer to the cultivation center, and he has leadership experience."
Secretary Tang frowned. "The center’s only been operational for two years. Transferring him now seems premature."
"Why?" another countered. "He’s done an excellent job there. A talent like his belongs in a more critical role."
"The center’s small scale is beneath him. It’s easy to manage—just send someone else from the bureau."
This time, Secretary Tang finally understood—the issue was that Liuhu Town had too many people and too many complications, making it difficult to manage. Most people weren’t qualified to be sent there as the top leader, so now they were eyeing the Cultivation Center.
When the center was first proposed, no one had been this eager. Back then, everyone had made excuses to avoid the responsibility, which was how Zhuang Qixiang, who was actually willing to do the work, ended up with the position.
Now that the center was up and running, and the entire county—even neighboring counties—would rely on it for mushroom cultivation, it had suddenly become a coveted assignment.
Secretary Tang couldn’t help but glance at Qu Mingli, only to find him listening with a faint smile, seemingly indifferent. This made Secretary Tang wonder.
Since the matter couldn’t be resolved quickly, he simply adjourned the meeting. Afterward, he strolled over to Qu Mingli with his hands behind his back and asked, “The Cultivation Center might get a new manager. Don’t you have any thoughts on that?”
Frequent leadership changes weren’t a good thing, especially since Qu Mingli had transferred the entire team from the former Jinchuan Forest Farm. Clearly, he cared deeply about the center.
Yet Qu Mingli just smiled. “If we’re going to transfer someone, we should first ask Manager Zhuang for his opinion. Once things are settled, there’ll be time for thoughts.”
His approach was unhurried. Secretary Tang nodded and didn’t press further. Soon after, he called Zhuang Qixiang to the bureau to discuss the matter.
“You want me to go to Liuhu Town as the secretary?” Zhuang Qixiang was surprised. After all, he had only been a section chief at the bureau before being assigned to the Cultivation Center less than two years ago.
Secretary Tang didn’t hide anything and laid out the situation. “Someone at the bureau suggested you’d be a good fit. I wanted to hear your thoughts.”
Secretary Tang suspected Qu Mingli’s calmness stemmed from confidence that Zhuang Qixiang would refuse. The man was responsible, after all.
The Cultivation Center had only been operational for two years and wasn’t yet running smoothly. Zhuang Qixiang might not trust someone else to take over.
But if he turned this down, such a good opportunity might not come again. It wasn’t every day that a town’s forestry bureau needed someone to step in and save the day.
Secretary Tang waited to see what Zhuang Qixiang would decide. After a long silence, Zhuang Qixiang suddenly asked, “If I leave, can I recommend Yan Xue as the new manager?”
Secretary Tang was taken aback, but Zhuang Qixiang had already thought it through. “Xiao Yan is highly capable. She was in charge of the pilot program at Jinchuan Forest Farm and is more than qualified to manage the Cultivation Center.”
In contrast, he had spent most of his career at the bureau. While he could handle bureaucratic matters, he lacked the technical expertise and adaptability needed to lead the center effectively.
He explained to Secretary Tang, “The center’s work is highly technical. Bureau staff wouldn’t be as knowledgeable as her. If someone unfamiliar takes over and starts giving misguided orders, it could disrupt operations.”
Now Secretary Tang was certain—Zhuang Qixiang was genuinely recommending Yan Xue. It was surprising that such a traditional-minded man would endorse a woman barely in her twenties.
He hesitated, studying Zhuang Qixiang for any sign of irrationality, but found none. Still, it was hard to believe. “Is this Yan Xue really that capable?”
“Absolutely,” Zhuang Qixiang affirmed seriously. “She’s resourceful, innovative, and a rare talent.”
That was high praise. He even gave an example: “When the center was struggling to gain traction, it was her idea to invite people for tours and offer guidance. That’s how we landed our first contract.”
That did sound impressive. Secretary Tang nodded, then suddenly realized—had Qu Mingli anticipated this all along?
When he later asked Qu Mingli, the man didn’t admit it. “I just thought that with Yan Xue’s abilities, she could handle any leadership change.”
If Qu Mingli had also pushed for Yan Xue, Secretary Tang might have suspected collusion. But his response only deepened Secretary Tang’s curiosity.
“Zhuang Qixiang mentioned she was in charge of the Jinchuan pilot?”
This time, Qu Mingli didn’t deny it. “Yes. From the pilot’s establishment to its expansion across Chengshui and the founding of the Cultivation Center—it was all her vision.”
Qu Mingli even dug up Yan Xue’s old proposal drafts and handed them to Secretary Tang. After reading them, Secretary Tang fell silent for a long time.
Within days, Zhuang Qixiang’s transfer was finalized—he was appointed secretary of Liuhu Town’s forestry bureau, just as many at the bureau had expected.
Now the question was who would take over the Cultivation Center. People waited and waited, but after half a month, there was still no announcement.
This puzzled many, including Deputy Director An, who privately asked Secretary Tang, “What’s the hold-up? No suitable candidates?”
Secretary Tang could tell he was angling to recommend someone and shook his head. “Not exactly. There are too many people vying for it, and I’m not sure who to pick.”
Frankly, he wasn’t inclined to choose any of the active lobbyists—many of whom had once shied away from the responsibility.
Since the center was small and could manage without an immediate replacement, he decided to take his time. Better than rushing into a decision and risking disruptions to next year’s mushroom cultivation.
So the matter dragged on. Meanwhile, Yan Xue temporarily took over managerial duties, moving into the manager’s office to handle calls and paperwork.
Once, she ran into Qu Mingli, who asked with a smile, “How’s it going? Holding up alright?”
Clearly referring to the lack of a formal leader, Yan Xue just smiled back. “It’s fine. I’m just the deputy, after all—some decisions aren’t mine to make.”
A clever dodge—anything tricky could be deferred with the excuse of being “just the deputy.”
When Huang Fengying visited the center and saw her in the manager’s office, she was shocked. “Xiao Yan, you got promoted already?”
“Not at all,” Yan Xue laughed. “Our manager was transferred, and the new one hasn’t arrived yet. I’m just filling in temporarily.”
Noticing Huang Fengying’s bags, she helped carry them. “Here to see Wenhui again?”
Liu Weiguo was often away for sales, leaving his wife and daughter alone for months at a time. Huang Fengying, worried about her daughter-in-law and granddaughter, visited frequently.
“The beans and eggplants are ripe,” Huang Fengying said, unloading a heap of vegetables—some for Zhou Wenhui, some for Yan Xue.
As she sorted them, she added, “Chunni was supposed to come with me, but her father got her a job at the school, so she went to report for duty. We’d already picked all this, so I couldn’t just leave it.”
Liu Chunni, the second daughter of the Liu family, had started school early and just graduated high school. Yan Xue asked, “Chunni’s going to be a teacher?”
Huang Fengying nodded. “What else could she do? She’s not as capable as Chuncai and always has her nose in a book. Teaching suits her.”
Quiet, studious, and bright, Liu Chunni was a natural fit for the classroom. The job would also give her time to study—useful, since the college entrance exams would resume in three years. By then, she’d only be twenty, with plenty of time to take them.
When Yan Xue first arrived, she was only twelve or thirteen years old. Now, she couldn’t help but sigh, "Time flies so fast. In the blink of an eye, Chunni has already graduated from high school."
"You're still so young, talking like that? Us old folks haven’t even started yet," Huang Fengying teased with a laugh.
Yan Xue chuckled in response. "You’re not old at all. When you chased Airong home for dinner, you ran faster than Wenhui."
This made Huang Fengying laugh even harder. She quickly pulled a letter from her pocket. "This is for you. I noticed it was sent to the forestry center, so I brought it over."
"Sent to the forestry center?" Yan Xue was surprised. After moving to the county, she had updated her new address with anyone who might write to her.
But as soon as she took the letter, her confusion faded. The return address made it clear—it was from the Xue family.
It had been over three years since Xue Yongkang last came to see her. Why were they writing now?
Could it be that her so-called uncle, who had claimed to be on his deathbed three years ago, was still stubbornly clinging to life and trying to persuade her about Qi Fang again?
Suppressing her doubts, Yan Xue thanked Huang Fengying. It wasn’t until she got home after work that she finally opened the letter—only to find it was a pickup slip for a parcel.
She was familiar with these, but that familiarity only deepened her confusion. Qi Fang noticed and asked, "Someone sent you something?"
"It’s from the Xue family," Yan Xue said, showing him the envelope. "No idea why they’d bother sending me anything out of the blue."
At the mention of the Xue family, Qi Fang’s brow furrowed slightly. He looked at her. "Are you going to pick it up?"
"Might as well," Yan Xue said after a moment’s thought. "Otherwise, if it gets returned, they might send someone to deliver it in person."
She truly wanted nothing to do with that family. The less contact, the better—she didn’t even want them knowing her new address.
Qi Fang gave a quiet hum of agreement. "Give me the slip. I’ll go to Chengshui to pick it up when I have time."
Within a couple of days, he returned with the parcel—a small, square box about a foot wide, its surface carved with intricate patterns, clearly aged.
Yan Xue froze at the sight. Her fingers brushed over the brass latch before she slowly opened it.
Inside were just a few silver trinkets, two strings of jade beads, and some children’s toys.
She stared in silence, but Qi Fang noticed the shift in her expression. "These were yours when you were little?"
"Yeah. They were my mother’s dowry. When she tried to take me away, the Xue family wouldn’t let her take any of it."
Back then, Yan’s mother had no family left to turn to. To escape that den of wolves, she had to leave behind what little she owned.
Who would’ve thought that after more than a decade, the Xue family would suddenly mail these things to her? Maybe, as Xue Yongkang had said, they didn’t want outsiders getting their hands on them.
Yan Xue picked up a pair of tiny silver bracelets, the delicate chime of their bells filling the air. "It’s a shame Jigang and Yan Yu are too old now. Otherwise, they could’ve worn these."
Next, she lifted a longevity lock. "This thing was so heavy around my neck as a kid. I never dared to wear it openly—only during New Year visits to relatives."
Compared to her past life, this version of Yan’s mother had given her plenty of love. But she’d passed too soon, leaving behind only Jigang to rely on.
Her smile was wistful as she lowered her gaze. Qi Fang took the longevity lock from her hands, examined it, and then moved to fasten it around her neck.
"This is for children," Yan Xue protested with a laugh, dodging his hands.
But Qi Fang held her still and clasped it on anyway, adjusting it with exaggerated seriousness. "A shame it’s over a decade late."
Meeting his gaze, she realized he meant it was too late for him to have known her as a child.
"We were hundreds of miles apart back then," she said, laughing as she quickly removed the lock. "Jigang, come here for a second!"
Yan Jigang had been playing in the yard with his little nephew. At her call, he hurried inside, cheeks flushed and forehead glistening with sweat.
Yan Xue wiped his face with a handkerchief before fastening the longevity lock around his neck—though it looked even more out of place on him than it had on her.
Jigang felt awkward too, but since his sister wanted him to wear it, he didn’t refuse. "What is this?"
"Mom’s longevity lock from her dowry. I wore it as a kid, but you never got the chance."
Jigang froze, his fingers hovering uncertainly over the pendant. "Mom’s?"
He’d only been six when their mother passed. His memories of her were faint, unlike Yan Xue, who had been by his side all these years.
Seeing his expression, Yan Xue pulled him closer to the box. "All of this was hers. She couldn’t take it when we left, so you never got to wear any of it."
Jigang stared at the items, struggling to form a clear image in his mind. The only resemblance he could conjure was a gentle figure, much like Yan Xue.
Just then, the chubby little boy in the yard called out, "Uncle! Uncle, uncle!"—clearly impatient from waiting too long.
Jigang called back and turned to leave, but feeling the weight around his neck, he hesitated. In the end, he kept it on as he headed outside.
Soon, the boy’s voice drifted in again. "Uncle, what’s that? It’s so heavy!"
Jigang’s explanation followed. "It’s something from Grandma—your mom and my mom."
"Oh. What was Grandma’s name?"
Poor kid. His father’s habit of quizzing him had clearly left its mark.
In this era, wearing such things was still a bit sensitive. Yan Xue soon locked everything back in the box and stored it away in the cabinet.
Meanwhile, at the cultivation center, Zhuang Qixiang—transferred less than a month ago—had returned.
Not as the reinstated manager, but as the secretary of Liuhu Town’s forestry bureau, there to purchase mushroom spawn on their behalf.
The same center he’d once insisted should never sell to Liuhu was now being asked to make an exception. The irony wasn’t lost on him as he took his seat, pausing briefly in silent acknowledgment.
Yan Xue, however, just smiled. "Since you’re back to support our business, you’ll have to place a big order, right?"
She didn’t bring up the three-year restriction they’d signed or the fact that he was the reason for the exception. Instead, she framed it as him doing them a favor, instantly putting him at ease.
Zhuang Qixiang’s expression softened. "Absolutely. Our bureau plans to order 10,000 bottles, with an upfront deposit."
This was a massive deal—Secretary Hu had only wanted 5,000 bottles and had been stingy about paying.
Liuhu Town’s forestry bureau had no choice. Donggou Town had been at it for two years already. If they played it safe with just 5,000, they’d never catch up.
Luckily, Zhuang Qixiang wasn’t like the previous Secretary Hu. He’d adopted Chengshui’s model, letting each forestry center handle their own operations, so the bureau wouldn’t shoulder the entire cost.
Otherwise, they’d have to build a base and purchase fungal strains, which would stretch the already tight budget of the Liuhu Town Forestry Bureau to its limits.
It was fortunate that Zhuang Qixiang was willing to personally make the trip. Had anyone else from the supply department been sent, they wouldn’t have been confident about securing the purchase smoothly.
The two sides quickly signed the order, paid the money, and stamped the official seal. Yan Xue even asked with a smile about Zhuang Qixiang’s work: "Everything going smoothly?"
Truthfully, it wasn’t that easy to manage. With several forest farms under his supervision and a much larger workforce than the cultivation center, poor management could lead to the same fate as his predecessor—being ousted.
But since Zhuang Qixiang had been assigned by the county bureau and was also their lifeline for procuring fungal strains, his subordinates were, for now, giving him face.
Just as he was about to respond, the phone rang. Yan Xue had to apologize and step away to answer it.
Then, as she listened, the young woman’s brows lifted slightly. "You’re reducing next year’s order by 5,000 bottles? Which town is this? What happened?"
Zhuang Qixiang immediately turned his attention to her. "Which town is it? Did something go wrong?"
