Yan Xue had never expected Qi Fang to embrace her. It had been over a month since their marriage, and this was the first time he had initiated physical contact with her.
Though it was clearly just a comforting hug—after what had happened earlier, after her nightmare—devoid of any other implications.
But it had been so long since she’d experienced even such a simple embrace. Since her mother passed away, she had always been the one holding her father—whether as a child stretching out her short arms or later, when her father fell gravely ill, lifting him in and out of bed, turning him over. There had been no one to hold her in return.
So when he suddenly pulled her close, her entire body stiffened, caught off guard.
Qi Fang noticed but didn’t let go.
On the mountain, he had released her, and though she claimed she was fine, she had woken up screaming from nightmares that night.
Now, his grip only tightened, one hand settling firmly at her waist, pulling her even closer—dominant, unyielding.
Yan Xue instantly felt encircled, with only the thin fabric of his shirt separating her from the solid warmth of his body. She could even feel his breath against the crown of her head.
The sensation made her shift slightly, only for his fingers to press warningly into her waist. "Sleep."
She stilled instinctively, but soon, she fidgeted again, restless and uneasy.
She slept in just a thin camisole, leaving her shoulders, arms, and even a sliver of her waist exposed. Holding her was like cradling a wisp of cloud or a handful of snow—delicate, almost intangible. But with her slight movement, the smooth curve of her waist slipped against his palm, igniting a scorching heat.
This time, he gripped her fully with both hands, his tone edged with impatience. "Stop moving."
The heat of his touch seared her, making her freeze. "It’s not like I want to. I’m uncomfortable like this."
"I haven’t even complained about being uncomfortable," Qi Fang grumbled.
At least Yan Xue had a pillow beneath her head. To hold her, he had to keep his own head suspended midair.
But despite his tone, he adjusted his position, letting her rest on his arm instead. "Better now?"
His words were still curt, but compared to his usual cold detachment, there was a hint of life in them.
For the first time, Yan Xue didn’t feel like he was made of ice. The warmth surrounding her now was anything but.
Perhaps it was the lingering shock from the day, or maybe the darkness amplified vulnerability, but she didn’t resist further, pressing her face into the hollow of his shoulder instead.
Silence settled between them, broken only by their quiet breaths—as if anything louder would shatter the fragile balance.
After a long moment, Yan Xue murmured, "Thank you."
"Sleep," came his usual terse reply, though his hand lifted to brush lightly over her hair.
The touch tickled, making her instinctively duck away. "Are you treating me like a child?"
"Close enough," he drawled lazily.
That irked her. Was he implying she was short? "If I’m a child, why did you marry me? Do you have some kind of special preference?"
"Maybe I do—preferring to make trouble for myself."
His life was already a mess, yet he’d let her stay, worrying about her nightmares…
Qi Fang scoffed at himself, only to feel her abruptly pull away from his arm.
Had his words actually upset her?
Before he could react, Yan Xue turned to face him. "You’re the one who’s trouble, always cold and distant."
She hadn’t meant to say it. They weren’t close, just two people sharing a practical arrangement. She could take care of herself—she didn’t need anyone’s kindness to live well.
But the day’s events had left her emotions raw, and pressed so close to him now, the words spilled out.
Not just words—she even kicked him under the blanket.
But as soon as she did, her rationality returned.
She always thought Qi Fang was inscrutable, but she was no different—smiling on the surface but armored against everything.
Yet Qi Fang didn’t seem annoyed. If anything, his tone softened. "Can you sleep now?"
"Yeah."
Strangely, the panic from her nightmare had faded.
Qi Fang hesitated but didn’t let go.
Yan Xue also debated whether to tell him she was fine now—but before she could decide, dawn broke.
The nightmares didn’t return, and as usual, Qi Fang rose early. She lay alone for a moment before getting up to make breakfast.
In the kitchen, Qi Fang had already lit the stove, feeding firewood into it. He glanced up when she entered. "You’re awake." His usual cool demeanor was back.
Yan Xue smiled, rolling up her sleeves. "What do you want to eat?" Her tone was just as light as always.
Qi Fang’s gaze lingered on her now-rosy cheeks. "Anything."
She turned to the cupboard for flour. "I’ll make flatbread for your lunch."
Patrolling the mountains wasn’t like logging—they had to go deep into the forest, unable to return to camp at noon, so everyone brought their own meals.
Since the other families did the same, she made over a dozen thin, palm-sized flatbreads, barely thicker than paper. Paired with pickled radish, freshly stir-fried potatoes, and yesterday’s bear meat, it was a hearty meal.
After eating, they each took a lunchbox to the pickup point.
Fewer people were heading up the mountain today. Several of the educated youths were absent—they’d never been enthusiastic workers, and after yesterday’s scare, they weren’t about to return.
Even some of the family workers were missing, though Guo Changping’s wife showed up at the pickup point. She’d only returned yesterday but was already back at work today.
Many greeted her, asking about Guo Changping’s condition. She nodded in response but said little.
Among the few who didn’t greet her was Li Shuwu’s wife, who even shot her a glare—after all, Li Shuwu’s two front teeth were still missing.
Guo Changping’s wife ignored her. Once in the mountains, she worked silently, more efficient than anyone.
The others weren’t as driven. After yesterday’s incident, some kept glancing nervously toward the trees.
The leaders understood. After assigning patrols, Secretary Lang and the production manager personally visited the family workers to reassure them.
Director Yu’s daughter was injured, and his son was still shaken, so neither came today.
Those with good connections had already heard—Yu Cuiyun’s injuries weren’t life-threatening, but her shoulder bone was fractured, requiring a splint for a long time.
"We were all fine, retreating like Yan Xue said, but she had to scream—almost got everyone killed."
The resentment still simmered, though some defended Yu Cuiyun since she was the only one hurt.
"That was her own doing," the other person still fumed, though in front of the field leaders, they didn’t say much more.
After everyone else had offered their condolences, Secretary Lang turned to Yan Xue. "Xiao Yan, right? I remember you—I officiated your wedding with Xiao Qi just before the New Year."
Yan Xue nodded. "Secretary Lang has an excellent memory."
"Who could forget such a striking couple?" Secretary Lang chuckled before asking, "I heard you were the one who organized everyone to retreat slowly when the black bear was spotted yesterday?"
Compared to Qi Fang’s few gunshots, Yan Xue’s actions had been minor. She hadn’t expected someone to specifically mention it to Secretary Lang.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively glanced at Lang Yue'e.
Noticing this, Secretary Lang also looked in that direction, his smile growing even warmer. "Staying calm in a crisis and thinking of others—you’re a good comrade. Keep up the good work." After a few more words of praise and encouragement, he left with his entourage.
Once the crowd dispersed, Yan Xue lowered her voice and asked Lang Yue'e, "Was it you who told him? Is Secretary Lang really your father?"
"You didn’t know?" Lang Yue'e was genuinely surprised—she’d assumed Yan Xue had already figured it out.
Yan Xue shook her head with a smile. "I never asked around."
It was rare to meet someone who neither gossiped nor pried into others’ affairs. Lang Yue'e’s eyes softened with amusement. "Yes, he’s my father, but I came with my mother when she remarried."
She spoke frankly, though it wasn’t a secret—any longtime resident of the forestry station could have told Yan Xue the same.
Yan Xue paused, studying her more intently.
Lang Yue'e thought she might say something profound, but instead, Yan Xue softened her voice and said, "What a coincidence—so am I."
Now it was Lang Yue'e’s turn to be taken aback. She looked at Yan Xue, finding nothing but sincerity in her gaze.
It made her feel respected. After all, Yan Xue was an outsider. Unlike her, if Yan Xue chose not to mention it, who would ever know?
Yet Yan Xue had shared it with her—perhaps to highlight their shared past, or maybe just to say it didn’t matter.
Lang Yue'e’s smile deepened, her tone unconsciously warmer as she asked, "You and Qi Fang still haven’t collected last year’s firewood allowance, have you?"
They hadn’t—they’d only been married a couple of days before the New Year. But Lang Yue'e wasn’t one to bring things up idly. Yan Xue met her gaze and nodded.
"Then this year, when you collect it, you can ask the station for an extra load," Lang Yue'e hinted. "Even though your household is small and one load would last you more than a year, you’re newlyweds—you’ll probably need to build a house. They might approve some extra treetops for you."
"How much is ‘one load’ here?"
Hearing that it would last over a year, Yan Xue suspected the forestry station’s definition of a "load" differed from her own.
Sure enough, Lang Yue'e replied, "Pulled by three horses—roughly a few thousand pounds."
"That much?" Yan Xue had imagined a single-horse cart.
"Of course. Why else do you think some households register the wife as the head, even if the husband isn’t with the Forestry Bureau? It’s all for that extra firewood. We’re close to the mountains—just gathering scraps is enough to burn. But in town or the county? No such luck."
Female-headed households were a unique feature of the Forestry Bureau—you wouldn’t see it elsewhere.
Now Yan Xue understood why Qi Fang had made such a point of mentioning the firewood allowance. "You mentioned treetops earlier—do all the cleared ones go to the workers as firewood?"
"Not all," Lang Yue'e said. "Some are hauled to the log yards to pad the stacks."
The forestry station’s winter harvest was massive. Not all the timber was transported by rail—much of it was stacked in log yards along the tracks, forming piles dozens of meters high, each holding around three thousand cubic meters. These stacks wouldn’t be dismantled until summer or autumn, when the logs were loaded and shipped to the town’s storage yard.
Since they sat exposed, the lower logs would inevitably get waterlogged, affecting quality. Padding them made sense—but Yan Xue was surprised they used treetops.
To her, these treetops, though not as thick or long as the main logs, were still good material—perfect for cutting into planks or crafting furniture.
Yet here, they were either padding log stacks or burned as firewood. Was the forestry station really that flush with resources?
Then there were the long strips of branches left piled in the mountains. Decades later, they’d have been hauled down and chipped. But from what the families said, they were left to rot—too much effort to haul home, when gathering from nearby woods was easier.
The waste pained Yan Xue. But selling them in town? She lacked the nerve—and the means.
A trip to town cost forty cents by rail. How could she discreetly move that much material from the mountains to town?
Too early an era, she mused. By the 1980s, the forestry station would’ve been ripe for business. Timber merchants and processing plants thrived until the logging ban in 2000.
Still, the thought nagged at her. As she worked, her eyes kept drifting to the freshly cleared treetops.
"Yue'e-jie, if I ask the station for extra treetops, will they really approve it?" she couldn’t help asking again.
"They will. If you want the substandard logs, they’ll approve those too."
Thinking Yan Xue kept asking out of concern that she and Qi Fang, as newcomers, lacked connections, Lang Yue'e added, "If they give you trouble, just tell me. I’ll handle it."
Reassured, Yan Xue’s face brightened like clouds parting after rain.
"Thank you, Yue'e-jie. You’ve been a huge help."
She finally knew what to do.
If she couldn’t grow gastrodia, she could grow wood ear mushrooms.
Unlike gastrodia, wood ears weren’t picky—they’d grow on racks right in her yard. Low maintenance, just needing water and sunlight.
Better yet, once inoculated, the logs yielded harvests for three years before needing replacement.
And the biggest cost—the logs? She could get them from the station.
This was a practical, quick-return side income that wouldn’t eat up her time. Yan Xue exhaled, feeling the weight on her shoulders lighten.
Without this, relying solely on odd jobs and foraging, bringing her brother here in six months would’ve been an empty promise.
Now, with a clear path, she smiled warmly at Lang Yue'e. "You’ve truly helped me immensely."
Lang Yue'e waved it off, slightly embarrassed. "It’s just putting in a word—might not even be necessary."
Yan Xue simply smiled. "You didn’t come to get the meat yesterday, so I brought extra food today. Let’s have lunch together."
After all, if it hadn’t been for Lang Yue'e reacting quickly by covering that man’s mouth and being the first to cooperate, she wouldn’t have stabilized the situation so swiftly.
Lang Yue'e hadn’t gone to claim the bear meat because she felt the bear had been killed by Qi Fang, who had also saved everyone. Since she hadn’t contributed, she saw no reason to take a share.
But she understood Yan Xue and Qi Fang’s decision. Money and valuables stir greed, and there would always be those who envied others. Besides, three to four hundred pounds of meat was more than they could finish, and selling it wasn’t an option. Since they’d encountered the bear together as a group, sharing was fair.
Yan Xue’s invitation was sincere, so Lang Yue'e couldn’t refuse again. When they stopped to light a fire and eat at noon, she sat with Yan Xue.
Seeing Yan Xue’s lunchbox packed to the brim, Lang Yue'e chuckled. "You really brought this much?"
"Qi Fang’s portion is even bigger than mine," Yan Xue replied with a laugh. She had deliberately packed extra to counter Liu Weiguo and others who always accused Qi Fang of being stingy.
But they hadn’t been seated long before someone approached Lang Yue'e. "Excuse me, comrade. Is Lang Yue'e working here?"
Lang Yue'e, usually mild-mannered, instantly lost all expression at the voice.
Yan Xue turned to look and saw a middle-aged woman in her forties—tall, sturdy, with a cloth bag slung over her arm.
Before Lang Yue'e could respond, Li Shuwu’s wife pointed her out. "Isn’t she right there?" Her tone carried a hint of schadenfreude.
Frowning, Lang Yue'e stood. "Let’s talk over there. No need to disturb everyone’s meal."
"Fine, whatever you say," the woman agreed. But before they’d gone far, she raised her voice. "I came to see you today, nothing else. Your birthday’s coming up, and Peisheng kept worrying about it. He asked me to make you a new dress."
With the woman’s back turned, Yan Xue couldn’t see her expression, but Lang Yue'e didn’t respond and quickened her pace silently.
Curious, Yan Xue asked those nearby, "Who is that? Do you know her, sister?"
"That’s Lang Yue'e’s former mother-in-law," one of the family workers whispered.
Yan Xue caught the key detail. "Former?"
"Means she’s divorced," Li Shuwu’s wife cut in, not bothering to lower her voice.
The comment drew stares, especially from Yan Xue, but the woman shrugged. "What’s the big deal? Divorce is divorce. Afraid of people talking?"
Even decades later, divorced women faced gossip in some places, let alone in 1969, before China’s reform and opening-up. To many, Lang Yue'e’s divorce was outright scandalous.
But while whispers were one thing, saying it outright was too much. Someone quickly defended Lang Yue'e: "It wasn’t her fault. Her ex-husband was a drunk who beat her with a belt when he drank. She was two months pregnant when he beat her so badly she lost the baby. How could she stay?"
Though not Secretary Lang’s biological child, Lang Yue'e had grown up in the Lang family, with half-siblings from her mother’s side. When this happened, the Langs couldn’t stand by.
Secretary Lang and his sons had stormed over, beaten the ex-husband black and blue, and brought their daughter home for good.
The Manchu people valued their women, and no daughter of theirs would endure such abuse. The Langs were adamant—divorce was non-negotiable, no matter who pleaded.
The divorce was finalized last autumn, and Lang Yue'e returned to her family at the forestry center, joining the family work team.
Her case had even stirred trouble for Yu Yongzhi’s marriage prospects—since he, too, was a heavy drinker, people wondered if he’d turn violent when drunk.
Director Yu’s wife and Yu Cuiyun had privately blamed Lang Yue'e for the fallout.
"Honestly, making a scene to scare him straight would’ve been enough. But actually divorcing? How disgraceful," Li Shuwu’s wife chimed in again. "Her mother-in-law’s come begging multiple times, yet she won’t take the out. Does she think remarrying’s easy?"
"If he’d truly changed, why send his mother instead of coming himself?"
Yan Xue didn’t believe abusive men could reform. Even if he’d apologized himself, she wouldn’t buy it—let alone when he hid behind his mother.
Li Shuwu’s wife smirked. "You’re newly married, so you don’t get it. A wife’s like dough—needs kneading. All women get hit sometimes."
The absurdity left Yan Xue speechless. There was no reasoning with her.
Li Shuwu’s wife prattled on, "Her man just went too hard, didn’t know when to stop. If she doesn’t want beatings, she’d better marry a cripple or a bedridden invalid."
Her gaze flicked toward Guo Changping’s wife, who immediately set down her lunchbox.
"What’re you looking at? I wasn’t talking about you—"
Before she could finish, a sharp slap cracked across her face.
The sound was so loud Yan Xue winced in sympathy.
Li Shuwu’s wife flushed with rage, but as she opened her mouth, Guo Changping’s wife raised her hand again. "Keep running your mouth, and I’ll slap you again."
Silence fell. Under that steely glare, Li Shuwu’s wife couldn’t muster a word.
Only then did Guo Changping’s wife return to her meal.
Now that was someone who acted, not just talked. Li Shuwu’s wife only dared bully older women like Granny Guo, who weren’t quick with comebacks.
By then, Lang Yue'e was striding back, visibly upset.
Her ex-mother-in-law trailed behind. "Why so stubborn? Even a day as husband and wife brings a lifetime of affection. Can’t you give him another chance? At least come for a meal—see how he behaves!"
"See how he behaves" meant returning to him, likely without even remarrying officially.
Lang Yue'e shook off her grip. "I said it’s over. I’m not going back. And my father had nothing to do with his demotion."
"Nothing? Then why was his pay cut?" the woman snapped.
Lang Yue'e’s disgust deepened. "My father has better things to do than track whether he’s late or screws up."
"He’s been distracted since the divorce, that’s all!"
Seeing Lang Yue'e's pale expression, the woman softened her tone. "Of course, it's all his fault. Who told him to forget his own name after a few drinks? Yue'e, don’t be angry. I’ll scold him when we get back. Your mother-in-law is so old now, and she’s come all this way to beg you. At least give her some face and go back to see him."
Lang Yue'e remained silent. In desperation, the woman’s knees began to bend. "Do you really want your mother to kneel and beg you?"
This was practically throwing Lang Yue'e into the fire. If she allowed her to kneel in front of so many people, even if she was in the right, she’d be seen as in the wrong.
But that man—Lang Yue'e could never agree to go back to him. Her body trembled with anger.
Just as she reached out to stop the woman, someone stepped in faster, yanking her up. "This is the new society, auntie. We don’t do emotional blackmail here."
Lang Yue'e's former mother-in-law struggled but couldn’t kneel.
The newcomer smiled brightly, holding her firmly. "If kneeling and begging could solve everything, we’d have to worship you. Like during the famine years—if you showed up, the drought would end, the Soviets would cancel our debts, and the U.S. and the West would lift their blockade."
Lang Yue'e, who had been seething, nearly laughed at the absurdity.
Qi Fang: Just wait till my wife tears into you!
