Seeing the man’s expression darken, Yan Xue quickly guessed the reason. "Did you lose something?"
Qi Fang didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up the lock, removed the key, and examined the keyhole closely.
Yan Xue leaned in as well and noticed faint scratches near the keyhole, though it was impossible to tell if they were from him carelessly unlocking it earlier.
She looked at him. "Is there something important inside?"
"I need to check again," Qi Fang replied evasively, closing the box and turning to leave.
Yan Xue assumed he was heading back to their old house and followed. The couple walked in silence, and once they arrived, they split up to inspect the doors and windows.
Nothing seemed amiss at first, but when Qi Fang circled to the back of the house, he spotted half a shoe print on the windowsill.
"Size 43, work boots," he murmured, glancing down before turning his gaze to the wooden fence behind them.
The mountainous area was rich in forestry resources, so most households used leftover planks to build fences, locally called "board fences."
The couple searched the ground and found a few more faint footprints—clear signs that someone had sneaked in from the back while the Guo family wasn’t paying attention.
As for the Guo family, regardless of their character, not everyone could pick a lock without leaving obvious traces.
Besides, the Guo family had a spare key to their house. If anything happened, they’d be the first suspects, and they weren’t foolish enough to take such a risk.
On their way out, they ran into Aunt Guo returning from the vegetable garden. "I just checked the temperature—it’s perfect," she said, handing them a few freshly pulled radishes. "You moved in late and didn’t get to plant a garden. Take these and eat them with sauce."
They thanked her, but neither spoke during the walk back.
After storing the radishes in the kitchen and washing their hands, they returned to the room where the box sat. Only then did Qi Fang suddenly ask, "Do you remember the man who came looking for me in the mountains?"
Of course Yan Xue remembered. Given his usual aloof and indifferent demeanor, it was surprising enough that he had gotten into a fight with someone.
And now that she knew Qi Fang was Qi Jingshu, she had her suspicions about that man’s identity—though she hadn’t expected Qi Fang to bring it up.
Qi Fang himself was a little surprised. He had always avoided talking about these things, yet the words had slipped out just now.
But now that he’d started, it didn’t feel so difficult. He met Yan Xue’s eyes directly. "His name is Wu Xingde. We studied under the same mentor."
So it was Wu Xingde. Yan Xue immediately glanced at the box. "Does this have something to do with him?"
"Most likely." Qi Fang wasn’t surprised she made the connection so quickly. "When he came to the mountains, he wanted my mentor’s research."
Yan Xue hadn’t guessed that, but it didn’t shock her. "He wanted to plagiarize your mentor’s work?"
If Wu Xingde hadn’t stolen their mentor’s research, he wouldn’t have risen so quickly—and Qi Fang wouldn’t have spent years meticulously planning to bring him down.
Her expression grew serious as she looked at the box again. "You don’t have important research materials in there, do you?"
As always, she was sharp and quick to understand with just a hint.
And she was entirely on his side…
Qi Fang studied her for a moment, a thought forming in his mind—he should have told her sooner.
So instead of answering directly, he asked, "Did she tell you I went to university? Did she mention what I studied?"
Ever since he started calling her "Yan Xue," the "Young Miss Yan" title had faded between them.
Though the question seemed abrupt, Yan Xue played along with the pretense. "Only a little, not much."
Qi Fang didn’t press further. "I studied mechanical engineering under Professor Su Changqing."
That was why, when he later built his company from scratch, he named it Changqing Heavy Industries.
"He was an old friend of my grandfather’s—practically watched me grow up. After my grandfather passed, I even lived with his family for a year."
At the time, his family had wanted to bring him back to Yanjing, but his mentor, concerned about his adjustment during a critical academic year, had persuaded them to let him stay. Even in university, his mentor had always worried about him being young and alone, looking out for him in every way.
That was why, when his mentor died, Qi Fang couldn’t accept it—especially knowing the one who betrayed him was his own senior brother, someone he’d lived alongside for years.
Qi Fang lowered his gaze, forcing his voice steady, but a cold edge still seeped through. "Three years ago, because my mentor had studied abroad, he was accused of having foreign ties and leaking state secrets. He took his own life in prison. The one who wrote the letter denouncing him was Wu Xingde."
When he looked up again, his peach-blossom eyes were full of scorn. "He told me he had no choice, that he was just protecting himself. But my mentor had already arranged escape routes for all of us the moment he sensed danger."
"Was coming to Jinchuan Forestry Farm part of his arrangement for you?" The novel had only hinted at this, so Yan Xue wasn’t entirely sure.
Qi Fang shook his head. "No. He sent me to Chengshui Machinery Repair Factory. He said I was too young to be taken seriously in a research institute and that I should gain experience at the grassroots level—to see where the real problems in our machinery lay."
So he had actually worked at the repair factory. Then how had he ended up as a lumberjack in the forestry farm?
Yan Xue kept the question to herself, noticing the grim look on his face.
Qi Fang’s lips pressed into a tight line before he finally spoke again, his voice heavy. "I believed him at the time. It wasn’t until months after I left that I learned what happened. I went back to Yanjing, tried to find a way, but before I could make any progress, I heard…"
His voice turned hoarse. "I heard that rather than name any accomplices, he hanged himself from a doorknob with his belt."
A doorknob was so low—how could anyone hang themselves from it?
Yet Su Changqing had done exactly that, ending his life—a life dedicated to science—in such an undignified way.
Yan Xue reached for his hand. "He wanted to protect the others."
"Yeah." Qi Fang’s voice was barely audible. "He died, and I was safe. We were all safe…"
There was no relief in his words, only suffocating grief.
Su Changqing’s death had shielded the rest of them, but it left a scar on Qi Fang’s heart—one that drove him to spend over two decades seeking justice for his mentor.
Perhaps Su Changqing had favored Qi Fang not just because he was bright, not just because he’d watched him grow up like a son, but because they were alike.
He had taught so many students in his lifetime—some, like Wu Xingde, who repaid kindness with betrayal; others who cut ties to save themselves; still others who lived in helpless oblivion. But only Qi Fang remained unwavering, fighting until his health failed and his life was cut short—all to restore his mentor’s name.
Feeling his grip unconsciously tighten around her hand, Yan Xue suddenly reached up and squeezed his shoulder. "Is it heavy?"
The man raised his peach-blossom eyes to look at her, still visibly lost in the emotions of moments ago.
Yan Xue squeezed his hand more firmly, softening her voice as she asked, "Has carrying all this been heavy for you?"
"Not heavy," he murmured, lowering his gaze to capture her hand. After a pause, he brought it to his lips and pressed a light kiss. "It's my duty."
If even he forgot his teacher's kindness, what would remain of the decades of dedication the man had poured into his work?
Those he fought for had betrayed him. Those he sacrificed for had betrayed him. Even in death, he bore the weight of false accusations.
On sleepless nights, Qi Fang often wondered—what had his teacher done wrong to deserve such suffering?
He kissed her small hand again. "My teacher and his wife never had children. His research was his child, and we, his students, were his children."
"And what about his research? It's not really in that box, is it?"
Yan Xue let him kiss her hand, but when she brought up the box again, her tone lacked its earlier gravity.
The teacher held too profound a place in Qi Fang's heart. How could the culmination of such a man's life's work be carelessly stored in a box where anyone might find it?
Sure enough, the man lifted his peach-blossom eyes, the corners tilting upward slightly. "Of course not."
Before she could ask further, he tapped his temple. "The teacher didn't leave me any documents. It's all here."
As he spoke, his chin lifted slightly, and his eyes gleamed with an uncharacteristic brilliance—the absolute confidence of a man who trusted his mind implicitly.
A faint smirk curled his lips as he rapped his knuckles against the wooden box. "But I left a notebook inside. Enough to send them down a detour for at least a year."
"A fake?" Yan Xue caught on immediately.
"Not entirely," he said, lips quirking. "What they know is real—at least 70% of it."
But some things couldn't afford the slightest deviation. A hair's breadth of difference could lead to entirely opposite conclusions.
This man, quiet as he was, certainly knew how to lay traps. Yan Xue studied him. "When did you prepare this?"
"After I returned from Yanjing," Qi Fang admitted without hesitation.
So he'd been preparing defenses since his teacher's passing—two and a half years of meticulous planning. The notebook's worn edges would raise no suspicion.
After all, who would keep a decoy notebook tucked away for over two years without reason?
Something about the notebook felt familiar. "That notebook you're always flipping through—was it this one?"
She remembered him keeping a notebook locked in that very box. On nights when she turned in early, he'd often take it out to review.
Qi Fang merely glanced at her, his lifted brow silently asking, What do you think?
He'd committed fully to the act, wearing the notebook's edges ragged with use. Having lived in shared dormitories, his former roommates would surely vouch for its authenticity.
If whoever took the bait didn't believe it wholeheartedly and rush to study its contents, she'd question their sanity.
This level of calculation, this patience—waiting day after day for a trap that might never spring—explained how he'd outpaced seasoned rivals like Wu Xingde despite starting from nothing after the reforms.
Yan Xue looked at him, then looked again. "Now I believe you never meant to hide things from me forever."
Had he truly wanted to conceal it, he would've left no cracks, just like with this notebook.
Of course, their past entanglement hadn't been easy to hide either—too many loose ends to cover. In hindsight, lasting nearly four months was nothing short of miraculous.
At her mention of the past, Qi Fang's expression sobered. He changed the subject. "We really should get a dog."
The Guo household didn't keep one, and though someone was usually home, the theft had gone unnoticed for too long. The Guo family might not even know yet—hardly secure.
With more people in the house now—mostly the elderly, women, and children—certain precautions were necessary.
"Let's get one from Liu Weiguo's place. I remember Black Lion recently had a litter," Yan Xue suggested.
Beyond guarding the house, the fungus spawn would be ready for cultivation in a few days. Short on time, she planned to skip the intermediate step and plant directly with the original strain. Once the mushrooms sprouted, they might attract unwanted attention. A dog would deter thieves.
"I'll speak with Weiguo," Qi Fang said, never one to delay. "We'll take two—one for the backyard."
The backyard, originally meant for vegetables, had been repurposed for mushroom cultivation. The shed for storing logs was already built, awaiting the mature spawn.
His suggestion aligned perfectly with her thoughts. As he put the box away, Yan Xue remembered another question. "Aside from you, does anyone else have those research materials?"
"Those who worked on the project know fragments, but nothing complete. The most critical findings were recent—just the teacher and me."
Then how had Wu Xingde risen so swiftly in the original timeline, taking Qi Fang over a decade to unseat?
Yan Xue frowned. Wu Xingde didn't strike her as someone who'd stolen mere scraps. "If others asked for the research, would you share it?"
"With no one," Qi Fang stated flatly. "Before the teacher passed, his only instruction was for his wife to tell me: Guard it well. Release it only when the time is right."
A lifetime's work—Su Changqing couldn't bear to see it destroyed. Yet entrusting it to others risked the same fate as his vandalized lab equipment.
But what constituted the right time?
Noticing the stern edge hardening his handsome features, Yan Xue ventured, "Is this why you refused even the chainsaw training?"
Qi Fang didn't answer, but his avoidance of specialized roles—opting instead for basic lumber work—was clearly an attempt to stay unnoticed, to slip from those men's memories.
Yet Wu Xingde had still sought him out, traveling miles to demand what he believed Qi Fang held, even ransacking his home in his absence.
He pulled Yan Xue into his arms. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
"Are we strangers now?" She pushed at his chest, arching a delicate brow. "I brought my grandmother and brother here without such apologies."
"My mistake," he corrected swiftly. "Grandmother and Jigang aren't burdens."
Somewhat mollified, Yan Xue let it go. "Do you have other photos?"
Neither Wu Xingde nor Qi Fang had been central figures in that book, leaving many details vague. After years in this world, her memories had blurred. Since the puzzle wouldn't solve itself now, she set it aside, more intrigued by the quiet brilliance he'd exuded when speaking of his mental archive.
Of course—a boy who entered university at fourteen couldn't possibly be as indifferent, as lifeless, as he seemed.
As he reached for the box again, she added, "From your university days."
He'd initially selected something else but swapped it at her request, handing her a different photo. "Taken during my sophomore year, on my first fieldwork assignment with the teacher."
The boy in the photo was only fifteen or sixteen, yet already tall, standing by the machine in a protective suit, lips pressed together without a smile, but his peach-blossom eyes were strikingly bright.
Those eyes held an upward drive, a vitality, a spirit undaunted by hardship—completely unlike the pessimism he carried now.
Yan Xue glanced between the photo and the man, pausing before realizing that Qi Fang didn’t seem as pessimistic now as he had been when they first met on the mountain.
Qi Fang had no idea what she was thinking. He also stole a glance at the photo. "Do I look better now or when I was younger?"
At first, Yan Xue was puzzled why he suddenly cared about looks, even comparing himself to his younger self. Then it hit her—he was still hung up on her earlier comment: "You look much better now than you did as a kid."
This made her inwardly scoff. "You were way better-looking as a kid. Especially good-looking."
The man’s expression faltered for a moment before he lowered his gaze to the photo again. "Is that so? Maybe I was less disappointing back then."
Here we go again. Clearly, this wasn’t something he’d let go of.
Sometimes, Yan Xue really wanted to clamp a hand over his mouth. She shook the photo. "Confiscated. I need to look at younger you more often so I can control myself when I feel like hitting you."
"Then send Yan Jigang back, and I’ll let you hit me," Qi Fang replied without missing a beat, his eyes fixed on her.
Since when had he become so quick with comebacks? Yan Xue didn’t buy it.
Given how vindictive this man was, if she really sent Yan Jigang back, who knew who’d be settling scores with whom?
Yan Xue ignored him, pulling open a drawer to tuck the photo into her diary, where she usually kept loose change.
"Really not letting me have it? I’ve got others," the man attempted to bribe her.
Yan Xue’s eyes curved with amusement. She was about to ask if any were nude photos, just to see how this man—who even slept in a button-up shirt—would respond, when a knock came at the door. "Is Xiao Yan home?"
It was Lang Yue'e.
She had no choice but to greet her first. "I’m here, Sister Yue'e." By the time she returned, Qi Fang had already put away the box, his expression cool and detached again.
"Your new house is quite nice," Lang Yue'e complimented as she stepped inside, settling onto the edge of the kang before getting to the point. "This year marks the 20th anniversary of the founding of our nation. The town’s Forestry Bureau is holding a gala at the theater for National Day, and all subordinate units and forest farms are required to contribute performances."
The mention of performances made Yan Xue’s head throb.
In her past life, she’d started in sales before switching to self-employment, never working in state-owned enterprises or large corporations—she had zero experience with this kind of thing.
Fortunately, Lang Yue'e wasn’t there to recruit her for a performance. "Our forest farm already has something planned—a group choir, plus a poetry recitation with other farms. I came because both of you have great presence, especially you, Xiao Yan. I wanted to ask if you’d be interested in the recitation."
She added meaningfully, "There are only so many spots for converting family-team members to full-time staff. If you can’t compete for ‘Model Worker,’ at least aim for ‘Cultural Activist.’"
Yan Xue was no stranger to hard work, but given her build, she couldn’t out-labor the older, stronger women who’d been in the family team for years.
Recognizing the kindness in the offer, she agreed readily. "I’m in."
Lang Yue'e then turned to Qi Fang. "If Xiao Qi doesn’t want to participate—"
She said this because Qi Fang was notoriously unsociable, something even she’d heard about. To her surprise, he asked, "How many people per forest farm?"
"Two—one male, one female," Lang Yue'e said. "Every farm sends two."
"Then I’ll go." Qi Fang glanced at Yan Xue, as if he wanted to say something but held back.
"I’ll put your names down then." With the matter settled, Lang Yue'e stood to leave. "Keep an eye out for updates. Rehearsals will probably start after the second round of sapling cultivation."
The first round of sapling cultivation ran from late May to mid-June, the second from late June to mid-July. The second round was about to begin in a couple of days.
Once sapling cultivation ended, the forest farm would enter a quieter period—occasional log-splitting, autumn fire prevention—until October, when preparations for mountain work resumed.
Before leaving, Lang Yue'e remembered one more thing and told Qi Fang, "Sawyer training should be in August. It’s a two-week course, won’t interfere with anything."
Qi Fang nodded. "Thanks."
"Has the list already been submitted?" Yan Xue also asked.
Yu Cuiyun’s affair scandal had caused quite a stir. Though things seemed to have settled down—with Liang Qimao repeatedly showing up to beg forgiveness, swearing he’d never stray again, and eventually taking his wife and child back—who knew if the Yu family would blame them for it?
Given that family’s way of doing things, thanking them for exposing the truth was out of the question. More likely, they’d resent them for airing dirty laundry and humiliating the family.
Luckily, the Yu family either hadn’t tried anything or hadn’t succeeded, because Lang Yue'e confirmed Qi Fang’s name had already been sent to the town’s Forestry Bureau.
Yan Xue walked Lang Yue'e to the gate, thanking her before chatting a while longer in the shade of the doorway. When she returned, she found Yan Jigang looking up at Qi Fang, who was bent over, the two murmuring under the eaves. They fell silent the moment they saw her, Yan Jigang even clapping a hand over his mouth.
How these two—one taciturn, the other struggling to speak—had gotten so close was beyond her. Yan Xue arched a brow. "What secrets are you hiding from me?"
Yan Jigang’s eyes crinkled, his hand still pressed to his lips, clearly resolved not to tell.
After a moment, as if worried she’d be upset, he lowered it slightly. "B-brother-in-law s-said… this is… a m-men’s… s-secret."
Away from that environment, surrounded only by family, Yan Jigang had indeed started speaking again—though his stutter was worse than when Yan Xue had left.
She wouldn’t press her little brother, glad he was talking more. She merely shot Qi Fang a knowing look. "A men’s secret?"
"Mn." Qi Fang actually confirmed it, his expression unreadable.
But that very night, Yan Xue learned what the secret was—or at least half of it.
After washing up, the boy moved his pillow to Yan Xue’s other side. "I-I’m c-cold. W-want to sleep… by the k-kang’s edge."
It was almost July—how cold could it be? In a few days, they’d be switching to lighter blankets.
Yan Xue looked at the man again. "A men’s secret?"
Qi Fang said nothing, calmly adjusting Yan Jigang’s pillow.
So that night, Yan Xue found herself sandwiched between her "cold"-claiming brother and Qi Fang, who had clearly struck a deal with the boy.
The moment the lights went out, an arm slid around her waist beneath the covers.
The man’s grip was firm, his expression indifferent, his replies to Yan Jigang perfectly composed.
Yan Xue couldn’t decide whether to shove him away or kick him, so she endured it.
Once the boy was asleep, she finally tried to move—only for Qi Fang to press closer. "Do you really want to know?" His breath brushed her ear.
She pushed at him, about to speak, when fingers tilted her chin up and a kiss descended.
Yan Jigang: You shameless adults! Am I just a prop in your little game?!
