When Yan Xue brought it up that day, she hadn’t mentioned any of this, so Qi Fang thought the matter was over.
Unexpectedly, after Qi Fang left and the young mistress Yan was also gone—just when he could finally relax—Yan Xue brought it up again.
This made him glance at her expression, hesitating without saying a word.
Yan Xue wasn’t in a hurry either. She even smiled and asked him, "What? Need to make something up on the spot?"
Her eyes curved slightly, their pretty arc still visible in the darkness, yet it only made him feel even more uneasy.
Qi Fang denied it quickly. "No."
"Then were you planning to hide it from me forever?"
"No."
This time, his denial was just as swift. Qi Fang even looked at her seriously and added, "I couldn’t hide it from you anyway."
It was hard to tell whether this was sincere or just self-preservation talking. Yan Xue simply stared at him without a word.
Now Qi Fang understood how it felt when the other person stayed silent, leaving you to guess. Tentatively, he placed a hand on Yan Xue’s arm. When she didn’t pull away, he slid it around her back, though he didn’t dare hold her too tightly, just loosely encircling her. "I was shocked too at the time."
Yan Xue believed that. Otherwise, his emotions wouldn’t have been so strange that day, and he wouldn’t have said things so unlike him.
But this man was truly stubborn—somehow, he hadn’t let her notice a thing. Yan Xue gave him a knowing smirk. "You were deliberately fishing for information that day, weren’t you?"
Qi Fang’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, though his voice betrayed nothing. "I just wanted to confirm something."
"Confirm how Aunt Guo praised Qi Fang?" Yan Xue scoffed.
With his sharp mind, even if he hadn’t believed it when he first received the letter, he should’ve been convinced once he learned she’d gotten money. Yet afterward, he’d asked about Aunt Guo again—how she’d described "him"—which was clearly just fishing for details.
Yan Xue poked his chest. "And when you told me later that you weren’t good enough, were you just playing weak on purpose?"
Whether she’d hit a nerve or not, the muscles under her fingertip tensed instantly, and he grabbed her hand. "No."
Qi Fang’s palm was scorching, gripping her firmly now instead of the tentative hold he’d had on her back.
Yan Xue tried to pull free. "And you wouldn’t let me go to Aunt Qiu Fang’s place."
Some things couldn’t withstand scrutiny—the more you thought about them, the more holes appeared. "You were afraid I’d find out if I went, weren’t you?"
This time, Qi Fang stayed silent, though his grip on her hand didn’t loosen.
Yan Xue poked him again. "You hid it so well. And you shut Liu Weiguo up that day too."
Another poke. "And when you saw Qi Fang, you were rude to him. Did you already know…?"
Before she could finish, her hand was pulled to the small of his back, and she was suddenly wrapped in his embrace.
The arm she’d been propping herself up with slipped, and the next moment, her head was resting on his arm as he held her close, his breath warm against her ear. "I was worried."
The embrace was too tight, too close—just a slight tilt, and his lips would brush her cheek.
The thought had barely formed when she felt the soft warmth of his lips against her skin. "I didn’t know it was him."
Though his demeanor was cool, his body radiated heat everywhere, even his breath scalding. "If I’d known…"
He didn’t finish, but his lips found her cheek again.
At first tentative, then trailing slowly, his kisses left a trail of warmth as his arms tightened around her.
This was Yan Xue’s first time being so intimate with a man. Every featherlight kiss felt like a blooming flower of heat against her skin.
Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt as the air around them seemed to grow warmer.
The same heat followed the path of his fingers along her spine—from her waist, over her neck, until they tangled in her hair and cradled the back of her head…
A second before his breath could touch her lips, Yan Xue turned her face away.
His lips grazed her cheek before landing on her neck, where they paused. "Yan Xue?"
His voice was rough, his breath tickling her ear.
But Yan Xue pushed against his chest. "Don’t think you can change the subject." Her voice came out far softer than she’d intended.
Clearing her throat, she pushed again. "Get up."
He didn’t move, just murmured her name again, his peach-blossom eyes fixed on her.
It was unfair—this close, she could even see the faint flush at the corners of his eyes, usually subdued by his usual coolness.
Yan Xue covered his eyes with her hand. "Stop looking at me. It won’t work."
But even as she said it, the flutter of his lashes against her palm sent a shiver through her.
She pressed her hand to his forehead and shoved, breaking free to turn her back to him. "When it comes to things about me, I don’t like being kept in the dark, and I don’t like others making decisions for me."
His own business was one thing—if he didn’t want to talk, she wouldn’t pry. But when it involved her? That was non-negotiable.
This was a matter of principle. Yan Xue wouldn’t accept vague answers or any attempts at distraction, no matter how charming.
For a long moment, the man behind her didn’t move, as if steadying himself. "Understood."
Qi Fang’s voice was quiet. When he tried to move closer again, Yan Xue kicked lightly at him. "You hid it from me for seven days, so you’ll reflect on it for at least seven days."
She shifted her pillow farther away and pressed the blanket down between them, drawing a clear line.
Even the next day, when packing lunch for their hike, Yan Xue left out one of the sunny-side-up eggs—the kind with a slightly runny yolk.
When Qi Fang saw it, his expression turned colder than usual, edged with something stern.
Liu Weiguo noticed he was even quieter than normal and sidled up to him during work. "What’s wrong? You were fine when we left yesterday. Bad sleep or… frustrated?"
At the word "frustrated," Qi Fang shot him a look. "You’d know?"
The weight of that gaze made Liu Weiguo backpedal fast. "I don’t! Don’t go spreading rumors, and definitely don’t say anything to Zhou Wenhui."
The sheer desperation in his voice was almost impressive. Qi Fang didn’t press further, just lowered his head and kept working.
But Liu Weiguo wasn’t one to stay quiet for long. Soon, he asked, "That person who came looking for you the other day—did you find them?"
Qi Fang glanced at him again. "Yeah."
"Was it the one they were looking for?" Liu Weiguo pressed.
"No." Qi Fang’s answer was firm. He swung his hoe, slicing through weeds with sharp precision. "They’re not connected."
Liu Weiguo wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but the way Qi Fang hacked at those weeds seemed almost… aggressive. The blade gleamed dangerously in the light.
"Nothing’s been going right lately," Liu Weiguo sighed, thinking of his own troubles with Zhou Wenhui. "She went home to ask around but got nothing. Her dad even made her deliver something to the Jiang family. We’re doing fine, so why do they keep trying to split us up?"
"You don’t want to be apart from her?" Qi Fang finished clearing the weeds and moved to mound soil around the next sapling.
"Of course not. Do you want to be apart from Yan Xue?"
Liu Weiguo was quite the questioner. After asking, he leaned in and lowered his voice, "What’s up? Got a good idea?" His eyes lit up, clearly trusting his buddy’s capabilities.
Then he heard his highly capable buddy say, "Just make her your sister. Then you’ll always be family."
Yan Xue didn’t find out about this until after work that afternoon.
Liu Weiguo came over to deliver some golden oyster mushrooms Huang Fengying had picked earlier that day. "She got over ten pounds from just one tree. My family can’t eat all of it."
Spring was for golden oyster mushrooms, autumn for frozen ones. Early June was prime time for locals to enjoy them.
These fungi grew mostly on fallen or dead broadleaf trees like elms, birches, and willows, fanning out in funnel shapes. A mature one could easily yield over ten pounds.
The piece Liu Weiguo brought was just a broken-off chunk, but it still weighed four or five pounds, its wavy edges tinged a fresh, tender yellow.
Unlike frozen mushrooms, these were best eaten fresh. Since they’d spoil if kept too long, Yan Xue didn’t refuse.
Seeing her accept, Liu Weiguo started grumbling quietly, "Is your Qi Fang in a bad mood? I told him I didn’t want to be separated from Zhou Wenhui, and he actually suggested I make her my sister."
"He told you to make Zhou Wenhui your sister?" Yan Xue’s eyes widened.
How cruel—turning lovers into siblings. "Did you say something you shouldn’t have?"
Otherwise, even if Qi Fang had a sharp tongue, he usually spared his own friends.
"What could I have said?" Liu Weiguo still hadn’t grasped the issue. "I just mentioned that he—"
He cut himself off, remembering Qi Fang had warned him not to tell Yan Xue. He quickly pivoted, "That he was frustrated first thing in the morning."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Qi Fang emerged from the inner room, his dark eyes sweeping over him silently.
Liu Weiguo bolted. "Alright, I’m off. My family’s cooking these too. I’ll bring some to Zhou Wenhui."
Yan Xue watched him disappear into the distance, then turned to Qi Fang. "Frustrated first thing in the morning—that’s what you told him?"
"No," Qi Fang answered coolly, his tone dead serious.
"Then you two are keeping something from me again." Yan Xue smirked.
The word "again" was telling, instantly reminding Qi Fang of Liu Weiguo’s warning: "Careful, or your wife might kick you off the kang."
He paused. "I asked him earlier to check if anyone at the lumber camp shared my name."
"So I was the last to know I’d mistaken you for someone else?" Yan Xue narrowed her eyes.
Qi Fang denied it immediately. "No. I only asked him to help find someone. Didn’t say who."
Yan Xue didn’t confirm whether she believed him, turning instead to fetch a basin to break apart the mushrooms.
Mushrooms weren’t meant to be chopped with a knife. Tearing them by hand preserved their natural flavor best.
When it came to chores, Qi Fang was always proactive. He joined her without hesitation, and once they’d finished, he stoked the fire in the large stove.
They used half the golden oyster mushrooms for a soup with eggs, the other half coated in flour and deep-fried.
Luckily, they still had some lard rendered from wild boar. After frying, the mushrooms were drained on a sieve, then tossed in a bowl with dry seasoning until evenly coated.
At dinner, the first sip of soup left a lingering freshness on the tongue, soon followed by the crispy-yet-tender crunch of the fried mushrooms.
The weather was warm enough that halfway through her bowl, Yan Xue had a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Qi Fang noticed, handing her a handkerchief while remaining composed himself, save for the faint redness on his lips.
For some reason, Yan Xue’s gaze drifted to the mole on his collarbone, peeking from his collar.
He caught her looking and raised a questioning brow, but before he could speak, Aunt Guo’s voice rang out from outside. "Qi Fang! Liu Weiguo’s fighting with someone!"
He froze just as Yan Xue turned toward the window. "What happened?"
Aunt Guo stood below the window, little Tiedan trailing behind her. "I went to call Tiedan for dinner and saw them brawling by the creek."
The couple barely finished their meal before rushing out. By the time they arrived, a crowd had already gathered by the riverbank.
Liu Weiguo and Jiang Debao were being held apart—one red-eyed with fury, the other bleeding from the mouth.
Yan Xue’s gaze landed on Zhou Wenhui nearby.
The young woman clutched a basin, tears dripping silently as she stared at the mud-stained wet clothes inside.
Clearly, she’d been washing clothes by the creek when Jiang Debao showed up and did—or said—something to provoke Liu Weiguo.
Sure enough, even restrained, Liu Weiguo was still shouting at Jiang Debao, "Lay another finger on her, I dare you!"
"I already did! What’re you gonna do about it?"
No one was holding Jiang Debao back—after all, he was the one who’d taken the beating.
He spat a bloody glob on the ground. "She’s my family-arranged match. I’ll do what I want. None of your damn business!"
Liu Weiguo lunged again, but several male laborers held him back. "Don’t be rash!"
"Easy for you to say—he’s not harassing your woman!" Liu Weiguo roared.
Qi Fang’s brow furrowed. He stepped forward and tapped one of the restrainers. "Playing favorites?"
His aloof demeanor made him seem less approachable than the ever-smiling Liu Weiguo.
The man instinctively loosened his grip. "No, just don’t want him to act impulsively."
Meanwhile, Yan Xue approached Zhou Wenhui, softening her voice. "Are you okay?"
Zhou Wenhui hastily wiped her face. "I—I’m fine."
Jiang Debao sneered. "Quit faking. Liu Weiguo can touch you, but I do it, and you act like you’re dying?"
The laborers knew things were about to escalate and moved to block Liu Weiguo again—but Qi Fang subtly intercepted them.
Freed, Liu Weiguo landed a solid punch on Jiang Debao, followed by a kick, before being dragged back.
This time, Jiang Debao was knocked flat on his back, his expression twisted in rage.
Nearby, Zhang Guogang looked equally displeased, his tone impatient. "Can you shut up? Harassing women isn’t something to brag about."
Jiang Debao stiffened, especially when Yan Xue’s voice carried over, comforting Zhou Wenhui. "Don’t worry. I’ll ask Lang Yue'e for advice. Her family knows how to file complaints."
Everyone knew who—and what—Lang Yue'e’s family had sued over. Jiang Debao paled further.
Just then, Huang Fengying arrived in a hurry, having heard the news. "What’s going on?"
With an elder present, the fight couldn’t continue—especially since Jiang Debao was the one getting beaten.
But leaving quietly wasn’t an option for him. He shot Liu Weiguo a cold smirk. "Her dad’s begging mine to get him promoted to workshop deputy. Sooner or later, she’s mine. I can wait."
He even raised a brow tauntingly. "When that happens, I’ll have my way with her eight times a day. What’re you gonna do then?"
"Dream on!" Liu Weiguo nearly leapt at him again, but with Huang Fengying watching, he held back.
“What kind of person is this?” Huang Fengying frowned as well, walking over to ask Zhou Wenhui, “Are you alright, dear?”
She added comfortingly, “He’s got a foul mouth. Don’t listen to his nonsense.”
But Zhou Wenhui couldn’t ignore it, because Jiang Debao had outright stated that her father wanted a promotion to deputy workshop director.
Now there was no need to ask around—it was crystal clear why Zhou’s father wanted to marry her off to the Jiang family.
A mere deputy director position, and he’d sell his daughter to such a scoundrel. In his eyes, his daughter really wasn’t worth much.
Huang Fengying watched as Zhou Wenhui’s eyes swelled from crying, yet the tears wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t help muttering, “What kind of mess is this?”
Liu Weiguo, meanwhile, was at a loss—he didn’t know how to comfort her or what to say. In the end, he simply turned to Qi Fang and Yan Xue for help.
“Jiang Debao is such a piece of work. Isn’t there any way to ruin this arrangement for them?”
He truly was despicable. If he treated Zhou Wenhui well and things still didn’t work out, Liu Weiguo would’ve just felt regret. But the way Jiang Debao treated her—if they stood by and let her marry him, wouldn’t that be throwing her into a pit of fire?
“There is a way,” Qi Fang said. “Find a way to make the Zhou family offend the Jiangs badly. That’ll put an end to it.”
If the Zhou family couldn’t be reasoned with, they’d have to target the Jiangs—cutting the problem at its root.
Liu Weiguo’s eyes immediately lit up. “How?”
But Yan Xue wasn’t as optimistic. “Even without the Jiangs, there’ll still be the Hes, the Hais…”
As long as the Zhou family was determined to sell their daughter, they’d always find a buyer.
Unexpectedly, Qi Fang added, “But that’s just treating the symptoms, not the root cause.”
Though their words differed, the meaning was the same. The two exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them.
Liu Weiguo, however, wasn’t concerned with their tacit understanding. “Then what the hell do we do?”
He wasn’t just worried about his own chances with Zhou Wenhui anymore—he feared she’d suffer if she really married Jiang Debao.
This time, Qi Fang didn’t look at him but at Huang Fengying instead. “Then it depends on whether your family is willing to make a sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice what?” Huang Fengying hadn’t caught on yet.
But Yan Xue understood. “Whether you’re willing to pay the price—to replace the Jiangs.”
Since Zhou’s father was set on selling his daughter, reasoning with him was pointless. Rather than trying to change his mind, they’d have to become the buyers themselves.
If they could prove that the Lius could offer what the Jiangs could, Zhou’s father’s attitude would naturally shift.
But while the Jiangs had connections to sway him, the Lius would have to rely on money and lavish gifts—it all came down to whether the Liu family thought she was worth it.
Zhou Wenhui wasn’t foolish. She quickly realized what they meant. “No, don’t waste money on me.”
She glanced at Huang Fengying. “Thank you.” Then at Qi Fang and Yan Xue. “And thank you both.” But she avoided Liu Weiguo’s gaze, picking up her basin to rewash the dirty clothes by the river.
Liu Weiguo sensed something off in her demeanor and hurried after her. “Hey, what’s this about? Don’t you want to be with me anymore?”
Their conversation by the river was too muffled to hear clearly, but Zhou Wenhui’s stance was obvious—she didn’t want the Lius spending money on her.
Huang Fengying stood silently, clearly torn.
Yan Xue understood her hesitation. Old Man Liu hunted in winter and foraged in autumn—the Liu family might seem unremarkable, but they had valuable possessions.
But was Zhou Wenhui worth those treasures? And would the Lius even want a father-in-law like Zhou’s?
After all, if Zhou’s father got a taste of profit this time, he might demand even more later. It all depended on whether Zhou Wenhui could stand firm against him.
Having said all they could, the rest was up to the Liu family to discuss. Yan Xue and Qi Fang took their leave.
On the way back, Yan Xue glanced at Qi Fang. “I thought you’d tell Liu Weiguo to just give up.”
After all, Qi Fang always seemed indifferent, as if nothing could hold his interest—hardly the type to be stubborn.
Five months ago, Qi Fang might’ve silently agreed that Liu Weiguo should let go. But now…
He looked at Yan Xue beside him. “Can’t just let him end up calling Zhou Wenhui ‘little sister,’ can we?”
“So you do know not to let lovers become siblings?” Yan Xue laughed, her eyes curving into crescents.
Qi Fang watched her, then reached out to steady her. “Watch your step.”
The forest paths were dirt roads, and after rain, the tracks left by wheels hardened into uneven ruts. Yan Xue’s foot hadn’t fully healed, so she let him guide her as they switched places—he took the rougher side while she walked the smoother one.
But once they’d swapped, the man seemed to forget he was still holding her. Staring ahead, he asked, “Your fungus should be ready soon, right?”
“Almost. I’ll harvest the biggest one tomorrow for cultivation.” Yan Xue tested pulling her hand back slightly.
His gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, as if unaware. “Need to adjust the temperature?”
Yet his grip didn’t loosen—instead, it slid from her arm to her wrist, then further down, toward her hand.
Yan Xue glanced at his profile, as impassive as ever. “No, at least six more days.”
The words seemed slightly off from their earlier topic, and finally, he turned to look at her.
Before his questioning gaze could form, Yan Xue grinned and—smack—swatted his hand away.
The next day, Yan Xue harvested the largest fungus as planned, cutting the thickest section for spore cultivation.
She’d prepared the culture medium two days earlier, timing it with the fungus’s growth.
After washing and peeling potatoes, she weighed out 200 grams, sliced them thin, and boiled them for thirty minutes. Straining the liquid through four layers of gauze, she diluted it to 1000 milliliters, then added 20 grams of agar and heated until dissolved. Next came 20 grams of glucose, simmered briefly before another filtration.
A rudimentary sterilization followed, using Yan Xue’s biggest investment yet—a pressure cooker.
It was a crude one by modern standards, but in these times, it was a luxury. After she bought it, the Liu family had even borrowed it to cook game a few times.
The test tubes for the medium were procured through connections at the forestry bureau’s middle school. Now, after 48 hours of resting with their openings elevated, Yan Xue inspected them, discarding a few contaminated ones before using sterilized tweezers to place the fungus samples into the clean tubes.
All that remained was maintaining the temperature—between 22 to 28 degrees Celsius—until the mycelium fully colonized the medium, marking the successful cultivation of the mother culture.
But the stricter temperature requirements meant Yan Xue had to add more firewood to the stove, leaving the room nearly unbearable.
Maybe it was time to move—relocate to the new house and keep this place rented solely for fungus cultivation.
As Yan Xue washed her hands, someone called from outside the yard.
“Is Yan Xue here? There’s a telegram for you.”
Telegrams weren’t sent lightly in these days—reserved for urgent matters. Yan Xue quickly dried her hands and hurried out with her seal.
Qi Fang: Folks, I’ve failed... Any recommendations for a male fox spirit training course?
