“An idea?” Chen Jian looked around. “What kind of idea do you have? You can still have ideas in broad daylight like this?”
“Hey,” Shan Yu lowered his phone and looked at him. “This take is ruined now, isn’t it?”
“What are you doing?” Chen Jian pulled Shiwu back as the dog kept trying to lunge forward, walking over to Shan Yu. “Let me see?”
Shan Yu tapped on the video on his phone and held it out to him.
It was a clip over five minutes long. From the moment he went to the doghouse to lead Shiwu out, Shan Yu had trailed behind him starting from the parking spaces, capturing everything—including all three of Shiwu’s pit stops.
Yet, beyond that, bathed in the soft, pale dawn light, the peaceful garden, the busy dog, the occasional birdsong echoing through the air, the white mist hanging over the distant mountain forest, and the narrow trail winding into the hills…
Scenes that looked completely mundane day to day took on an oddly atmospheric, cinematic beauty when viewed through the camera lens.
Watching the clip, Chen Jian suddenly caught on. He looked at Shan Yu: “Are you thinking of starting an official social media account for Dayin?”
“Look at our store manager’s intuition,” Shan Yu said. “We can’t let your handsome face generate traffic for other people for free.”
“…Me?” Chen Jian paused. “Let’s not.”
“It definitely wouldn’t just be you,” Shan Yu said. “Dayin’s daily life—everyone can make an appearance.”
“Oh.” Chen Jian was still a little dazed, unable to wrap his head around it entirely, perhaps because he hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and his brain was running low on blood sugar.
“I haven’t fully thought it through either. Just an idea for now. Not just for Dayin, but we could expand it further—Hongye Town’s scenery, local culture, and people,” Shan Yu said. “Let’s hold a meeting with everyone after the holidays to discuss it. Leaving this untapped feels like leaving money on the table.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded. As Shiwu tugged him forward, he asked, “Want to walk with us for a bit?”
“Obviously,” Shan Yu fell into step beside him. “No one else is up yet, leaving me alone in the inn. Once your dad gets up to make breakfast, I can hardly run away right in front of him, can I?”
“…And here I thought you felt zero pressure being around my dad?” Chen Jian smiled.
“How could I not feel pressure?” Shan Yu threw an arm over Chen Jian’s shoulder. “I just don’t blush, that’s all.”
Chen Jian froze for two seconds: “Did I blush? Holy shit, no way, I blushed?”
“No, no, no, no,” Shan Yu said in rapid succession. “You occasionally blush on normal days, but when my parents showed up, you didn’t blush at all. Not only did you not blush, but you also looked remarkably composed.”
“There’s no way I was actually composed,” Chen Jian said. “President Liu could definitely tell I was nervous. If even you could see it, how could a veteran… big boss like her not see through it?”
“An old fox is an old fox,” Shan Yu said. “Why be so careful with your phrasing in front of me?”
“Feels like an old fox can see right through anyone at a single glance,” Chen Jian smiled.
“Not necessarily,” Shan Yu said. “She couldn’t see through me back then.”
“You never let her look,” Chen Jian said, touching his cheek.
“Unclip the leash and let Shiwu run for a bit. There’s no one around right now,” Shan Yu said. “I’ll take a video to send to Lu Yun.”
“Still have to file reports?” Chen Jian unclipped Shiwu’s leash, giving the dog’s head an encouraging pat. “Go on, stretch your legs.”
“Lu Yun lives alone. Aside from work, these dogs are all he has,” Shan Yu said. “Treats them like his own life. After dropping him off yesterday, he even sent me a whole list of Shiwu’s daily habits.”
It certainly showed. For a stay of just two or three days, Shiwu’s luggage included not only kibble, but also treats, toys, and two beef bones for teething.
Chen Jian had originally wanted to let Mushroom try some of that premium dog food, but Mushroom refused to touch it.
Shiwu bolted forward, sprinting dozens of meters before coming to a stop by the roadside to take a dump, after which he galloped wildly back in their direction.
Mushroom had sneaked out after them at some point, letting out two barks from behind. Shiwu trotted up to him, wagged his rear back and forth with a few playful hops, and then spun around to dash further up the mountain path. Mushroom chased right after him, barking and running happily.
Full of energy.
Shan Yu sent the video over to Lu Yun.
Chen Jian glanced at the screen and couldn’t help letting out an appreciative gasp: “Whoa!”
“What kind of reaction is that?” Shan Yu laughed.
“You two chat quite a bit,” Chen Jian said.
“Hiss…” Shan Yu looked at him. “Listen to that tone.”
“Is it all about work?” Chen Jian asked.
“What else would it be?” Shan Yu thrust the phone right into his face.
“Not looking.” Chen Jian turned his head away.
“Oh?” Shan Yu smiled. Hooking an arm around his shoulder, he gently pinched Chen Jian’s chin, forcing his head back toward the screen while scrolling through with his thumb. “Look at it. If you don’t look, I’ll pluck your eyeballs out and stick them onto my phone.”
Chen Jian scanned a couple of lines; it really was strictly work.
Still, Shan Yu was undeniably skilled. Judging from the conversation, he had already grown quite familiar with Lu Yun, their exchanges devoid of stiff, empty pleasantries.
“Does he have insomnia too?” Chen Jian noticed two messages sent past 1:00 AM, discussing the ancient stone tablets and memorial arches on the south side of Hongye Town’s mountain.
“Doesn’t seem like insomnia. His work hours are simply 8:00 AM to 2:00 AM,” Shan Yu said. “Workaholics are all like that. My mom used to be the exact same way.”
“A schedule like that would probably last me two or three days,” Chen Jian said, “before I’d have to be sent to a better place.”
“Young kids are all like that. Look at Mushroom—he sleeps twenty hours a day.” Shan Yu leaned in and planted a kiss on the tip of Chen Jian’s ear.
“I’m keeping score of this,” Chen Jian pointed at his phone.
“Keep score then,” Shan Yu said. “Can it possibly rival Dayin’s handsome store manager?”
Returning from walking the dogs, they arrived just in time for breakfast. Sanbing was squatting by the back gate holding a flatbread, chewing on it with a thoroughly gloomy expression.
Since when was Lao Wu’s brand of melancholy contagious?
“What’s the matter?” Shan Yu asked. “Flatbread too dry, dipping it in the cold wind?”
“Boss Shan, you’re great in every way, except you were born with a mouth.” Sanbing took a vicious bite of his flatbread.
Shan Yu chuckled, walking into the building. Leaning in close to Chen Jian’s ear, he murmured, “Ask him. If it’s about Liu Wu, tell him to hold out a little longer—Liu Wu is heading back in two days anyway.”
“Shouldn’t be that serious,” Chen Jian whispered back.
Sanbing had a crush on Hu Pan, but without a competitor like Liu Wu present, his feelings for her usually weren’t intense enough to have every little thing dictate his mood.
Chen Jian went to the dining area to grab a flatbread and two cartons of milk, then went back to squat beside Sanbing by the rear gate.
“Here.” He handed a carton of milk to Sanbing.
“Chen Jian,” Sanbing took the milk, taking several loud, slurping gulps through the straw. “Tell me.”
“Hm?” Chen Jian glanced at him, taking a bite of his flatbread.
“Tell me… people from small places like us,” Sanbing said, “is this pretty much all our lives will ever amount to?”
“Amount to what?” Chen Jian asked.
“Knowing nothing, having no skills, having no grand ambitions or ideals. Marrying, having kids in a few years, and then your life is basically over,” Sanbing said.
“Having kids… and then it’s over?” Chen Jian asked. “You aren’t going to raise them?”
Sanbing whipped his head around to glare at him: “Whether you raise them or not, it’s over! Once that kid is born, looking at my dad, my grandpa, and my grandma is enough to know exactly what the rest of my life will look like.”
“What brought this on all of a sudden?” Chen Jian asked.
“I was chatting with Liu Wu yesterday,” Sanbing said. “At first, I thought he was pretty silly, kind of a blockhead. But once we actually started talking, it was completely different. That worldview, that way of carrying himself… someone like me couldn’t catch up in an entire lifetime. Putting everything else aside, just look at Panpan—the moment he stands next to her, I’ve already lost.”
“Not necessarily,” Chen Jian said. “He loses too. Both of you lose, so there’s no difference.”
Sanbing stared at him: “Do you actually know how to comfort people or not?”
“Let me ask you something,” Chen Jian thought for a moment. “What do you think of Shan Yu?”
“Incredible! Skilled in civil and martial arts, brave and strategic, handsome and kindhearted,” Sanbing said. “Zhao-jie calling him the Philanthropist Boss wasn’t a mistake.”
“Isn’t he right here?” Chen Jian said. “And he’ll be here for a very long time.”
Sanbing looked at him.
“The town is getting developed properly, and our inn is going to operate more professionally down the line,” Chen Jian said. “Boss Shan might have even bigger plans in store. If you want to break free from this place, this is your opportunity. Build up real experience, and you can look for work outside later on.”
“Learn everything here and then bolt?” Sanbing asked.
“Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to stay here?” Chen Jian countered.
“Well, if we’re doing great work here…” Sanbing frowned.
“If things are going great, why would you need to leave?” Chen Jian looked at him. “So, if there’s something you want to know, go ask and investigate. If there’s a skill you want, go learn it. Forget whether it counts as a ‘grand ambition’ or not—your ambition right now could simply be becoming a seasoned, senior hospitality professional…”
“Holy shit.” Sanbing stared at him. “Holy shit, Chen Jian.”
“Try dropping another curse, see if I don’t slap you,” Chen Jian said around his flatbread, pinching open a corner of the milk carton.
“Since when did you become so philosophical?” Sanbing asked.
“Maybe you’ve just been lacking perspective,” Chen Jian tilted his head back for a swig of milk, standing up. “Keep at it, Chen Jiali.”
The words he had shared with Sanbing weren’t extraordinarily profound; they were simply reflections of what he had observed and absorbed from Shan Yu, only voiced aloud for the very first time.
Some thoughts only truly crystalized once spoken out loud.
It felt quite good.
Gave him an imposing, grounded sense of confidence.
Heading toward the restaurant, the four young travelers from yesterday came downstairs carrying their camera gear. This time, the two girls were filming, while the girl who checked in and the young man walked ahead.
The shot of walking down the stairs was filmed three separate times.
Chen Jian waited by the side until they finished before walking over.
“Store Manager,” the girl greeted Chen Jian.
“Good morning,” Chen Jian said.
“Store Manager, if we set off for the waterfall now, about how long is the hike?” the girl asked.
“Depends on which route you take up,” Chen Jian said.
“Could you explain both to us?” she asked.
Chen Jian walked behind the front desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and sketched a rough map for them, marking two trails up the mountain and notable scenic spots along the way. His drawing was rather crude and his handwriting wasn’t fancy, but it was exceptionally detailed.
“This is way more detailed than the map we bought at the supermarket,” the girl said.
“That tourist map is several years old. There are new trails and additions now; just use this as a reference,” Chen Jian said.
“Thank you so much,” the girl smiled.
“You’re welcome,” Chen Jian said.
The girl suddenly pointed toward the camera lens: “Store Manager, could you give us a smile?”
“Hm?” Chen Jian blinked.
Was I not smiling?
Was I serving guests with a stone face the entire time?
“Sorry,” he offered a smile toward the lens.
“Thank you!” The girl waved with a grin, tucked the sketch into her pocket, and the group headed out.
For the shot walking out the main doors, presumably to create an edit that cut seamlessly from the doorway straight to the trail, they jumped across the threshold several times.
Is filming videos really this tedious?
“Dayin’s signboard ought to feature your face printed on it,” Sun Nana strolled over, leaning against the counter.
“Was I not smiling earlier?” Chen Jian asked.
“You smiled in the end,” Sun Nana said.
“What about before that?” Chen Jian asked.
“You looked like your usual self,” Sun Nana glanced at him. “You didn’t honestly think you walked around like a bubbly, smiling boy every day, did you?”
“…I’m not that out of touch with reality,” Chen Jian muttered.
Sun Nana burst out laughing.
After finishing breakfast, Chen Jian sat in the cafe, opened the notes app on his phone, and jotted down a bullet point: Town tourist map needs an update.
Though he wasn’t sure if it would be useful, he had already recorded several items in his notepad regarding both Dayin and the town at large, including missing or damaged scenic signs.
He forwarded the notes to Shan Yu.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Not sure if this is useful.
[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: Useful.
[Fa Shan Ke Chen]: I’m going to tell President Liu you don’t need to read books anymore.
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: ?????
[Chen Yu Luo Yan]: Don’t care whether I live or die, huh?
Shan Yu came downstairs alongside President Liu and the rest of the family. President Liu and her sister-in-law were chatting animatedly, while Shan Yu trailed at the back of the group with his beloved cousin draped over his shoulder.
Looked like he hadn’t found a chance to spout nonsense to President Liu yet.
“I’m taking them out to explore,” Shan Yu said. “First dropping my dad off to fish, then heading up the mountain from the rafting launch point.”
“Professor Shan is still going fishing?” Chen Jian was genuinely shocked. “I haven’t even fetched the special bait yet.”
“Bring it over to him once you get it,” Shan Yu smiled.
“I don’t need to accompany you guys up the mountain, right?” Chen Jian asked.
“No, we’ll be back by noon. With this bunch of creaky joints, we won’t get very far,” Shan Yu said. “Plus, we have lunch at Liangye at noon.”
“You’re quite busy,” Chen Jian said.
“Then I won’t go to the lunch,” Shan Yu said immediately. “You can represent Dayin…”
“That is an obligation a boss must fulfill,” Chen Jian cut him off.
“Will you miss me?” Shan Yu suddenly leaned in close, whispering in his ear.
With President Liu and the others standing right across the room, Shan Yu’s maneuver made Chen Jian reflexively want to slap him, but he held back.
After all, Shan Yu was a seasoned actor; right in this moment, his hushed leaning-in looked on the surface exactly like a boss delegating work tasks to his store manager, even if the actual words were completely off-script.
“Yes,” Chen Jian kept a straight face, nodding solemnly, playing the part of a diligent store manager receiving directives from his employer.
“The moment I step out the door, I’ll start missing you,” Shan Yu pulled back slightly.
“I’ll probably need a moment before I start missing you,” Chen Jian looked at him.
Shan Yu straightened up with a chuckle, turning to walk out of the cafe.
Chen Jian followed them out, seeing the group off at the entrance. Watching the two cars pull out of the courtyard, he finally headed back inside.
Having worked the night shift, he was officially off this morning. After taking a lap around the property and chatting with his dad for a bit, he rode his motorcycle back to the village.
He asked Xiao Dou’er’s grandfather for some of his usual groundbait.
It was essentially corn kernels soaked in liquor mixed with some mysterious powders. It smelled rather uninviting, but the Master of Fish-Feeding, Professor Shan, treated it like a sacred artifact.
“One sniff of this blend and you know it was crafted by a master,” Professor Shan said. “I’m guaranteed to land a fish today.”
“Mm,” Chen Jian nodded. “Once you catch one, you can head up the mountain to explore tomorrow.”
“Even if I catch one, I’ll keep fishing,” Professor Shan insisted. “I rather enjoy this setting and headspace. It’s rare to find a river and landscape like this in daily life.”
Professor Shan was a man of his word. Though he didn’t catch a single fish, he doggedly fished by that eddy pool for three straight days. The sole beneficiary of this entire expedition was Xiao Dou’er’s grandfather, who had someone feed his fish for three consecutive days for free.
Over those three days, President Liu and the others spent most of their time exploring outdoors. Liu Wu’s family was lively and vibrant, while President Liu felt to Chen Jian as though she were continuously surveying the area, catching up with Shan Yu every time they returned.
Of course, it wasn’t all about “surveying.” After waiting so many years, President Liu was finally able to travel with her son and sit down for calm, steady conversations…
Right up until the day of their departure, she stood chatting with Shan Yu beside the car for a long time before finally getting in.
It had been a full, bustling New Year—a holiday unlike any Chen Jian had ever experienced before.
Even if it felt somewhat fleeting.
Once President Liu and the others departed, his father headed back to the city as well. Zhao-jie and Huang-jie returned to the inn, and the tourists who had spent the holiday here gradually dispersed.
The town settled into that unique, quiet stillness characteristic of the New Year—a lingering touch of solitude following the festive rush.
