AD CH104

Early in the morning, Lu Yun arrived in town. Chen Jian initially thought he had come merely to pick up his dog, but a glance into the vehicle revealed his colleague as well as Old Ding from the town management office.

He was here strictly for work.

The Lantern Festival hadn’t even passed, yet the workaholic and his colleagues were already completely done with the New Year holidays.

The instant Shiwu spotted Lu Yun, he went berserk with excitement—head shaking, rear wagging so hard his tail spun like an airplane propeller. Mushroom watched from the side, looking utterly bewildered, yet enthusiastically chimed in anyway, barking and wagging his own tail in solidarity.

“Thanks for everything,” Lu Yun crouched down, hooking an arm around Shiwu’s neck while freeing his other hand to ruffle Mushroom’s head.

“He was actually very well-behaved,” Shan Yu said. “Whenever you head out of town in the future, just drop him off here.”

“Now that you’ve said it, I really will take you up on that,” Lu Yun said.

“Bring him over anytime,” Shan Yu replied. “These past couple of days he was basically working as our greeter. Guests couldn’t help snapping photos of him, and he even knows how to strike poses.”

“Taught him a few tricks whenever I had free time at home,” Lu Yun said with a smile.

You actually have free time?

Chen Jian listened from the side, utterly flabbergasted. A man who was still actively working at two in the morning somehow had “free time”…

“We’re heading over to Shannan in a bit to check out those stone tablets,” Lu Yun said. “The photographic records from last time weren’t thorough enough, so I brought people along today to document them in detail.”

“Chen Jian, come with us,” Shan Yu glanced at Chen Jian. “You know that area pretty well, right?”

“Decently enough,” Chen Jian nodded.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Shan Yu asked Lu Yun and his team. “If not, we have some simple fare inside.”

“We’ve eaten. Old Ding probably hasn’t though, right?” Lu Yun said.

“Xiao Chen, just grab me a couple of steamed buns or flatbreads,” Old Ding said. “Something portable.”

“No rush, go inside and sit down to eat. We’ll wait for you,” Lu Yun offered.

“No, no, no, no, no…” Old Ding waved his hands frantically.

For years, Old Ding had enjoyed a very comfortable life at the management office. Whether the town had tourists or not made virtually no difference to him. His daily routine consisted of sipping tea, taking a few strolls around town, and forwarding official notices to the merchants’ WeChat group.

Ever since Lu Yun arrived, his workload had spiked dramatically. In the past, breakfast took at least twenty leisurely minutes—piping hot, with both soup and solids…

Now he was reduced to eating two takeaway steamed buns and a cup of soy milk packed by Chen Jian.

Thankfully, the soy milk had been freshly ground by Zhao Fangfang—rich and fragrant, far superior to anything sold at ordinary breakfast stalls.

Just as the group prepared to get into the cars, He Liang abruptly materialized outside Dayin’s courtyard gate.

“Boss Shan,” he called out in greeting.

“Morning,” Shan Yu acknowledged.

“Director Lu,” He Liang immediately picked Lu Yun out of the crowd with pinpoint accuracy, walking into the courtyard with a broad smile. “Out and about this early?”

Lu Yun didn’t reply, merely regarding him with a calm gaze.

Chen Jian had always thought of Lu Yun as approachable and devoid of bureaucratic airs. Only now, facing the uninvited He Liang, did he suddenly perceive the sharp, unmistakable aura of a “government official” radiating from him.

“And you are?” Lu Yun’s assistant stepped forward, looking at He Liang.

“I’m the owner of Liangye next door, He Liang,” He Liang pulled out a business card and offered it with both hands. “One of the organizers… of the previous bonfire festival.”

Lu Yun didn’t reach for the card; his assistant took it instead. “Is there something you need?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” He Liang said. “Heard Director Lu had arrived, so I dropped by to see if there was anywhere I could be of service…”

“Heard from whom?” Lu Yun looked at him and asked pointedly.

He Liang froze. He clearly hadn’t expected Lu Yun to cut him down so ruthlessly without leaving a shred of face. Visibly embarrassed, he darted a glance toward Shan Yu.

What are you looking at him for?

Trying to claim Shan Yu tipped you off?!

Chen Jian glared fixedly at He Liang.

“Spotted us from over there, didn’t you?” Shan Yu chimed in smoothly.

“Right, right, exactly,” He Liang nodded frantically in relief. “One of our staff saw you and let me know. That’s how I heard, so I rushed right over…”

Chen Jian couldn’t help stealing a glance at Shan Yu. Ever since Shan Yu arrived in town, he had never once spared He Liang’s feelings. Chen Jian had been eagerly waiting to watch He Liang make a fool of himself just now, never expecting Shan Yu to actually toss him a lifeline.

“Mm,” Lu Yun acknowledged faintly, saying nothing more as he turned and climbed into Shan Yu’s car.

“You drive,” Shan Yu instructed Chen Jian, opening the rear door and taking a seat in the back.

Boss?

You have a municipal official sitting in your car, and you’re letting your “assistant”—who got his driver’s license less than a month ago—take the wheel?!

“Alright,” Chen Jian could only comply. With Lu Yun present, he couldn’t very well argue.

Shan Yu sat in the back to make conversing with Lu Yun easier. If Chen Jian didn’t drive, he would be forced to sit in the back and make small talk with Lu Yun… a conversational hurdle no less daunting than chatting with President Liu…

Driving was definitely the easier task.

He slid into the driver’s seat, while Old Ding took the front passenger side.

Lu Yun’s vehicle trailed behind them, carrying his assistant and another colleague.

As the two cars drove out of the courtyard one after the other, He Liang stepped aside, maintaining an awkward yet resilient smile as he watched them depart.

“Straight to Shitoubao?” Chen Jian asked.

“Mm,” Shan Yu answered. “Is that place called Shitoubao?”

“Yeah, because it’s full of rocks,” Chen Jian said. “Though locals usually just call that whole stretch Shannan.”

“Hardly any households left in that village now,” Old Ding explained. “Director Lu probably noticed when he visited last time—it’s all barren hillside ridges, impossible to farm, dirt poor.”

“Indeed,” Lu Yun glanced out the window. “The old village side is roughly the same, perhaps just slightly better off.”

“Everyone is pinning their hopes on tourism to lift the local economy now,” Old Ding said. “The holiday season was quite decent. Boss Shan, business at your inn was pretty booming, right?”

“Not bad,” Shan Yu said. “However, distinctive tourism offerings are still lacking, and agritourism dining options are too sparse. Plenty of tourists wanted to stay over the New Year, but finding places to eat remains a problem.”

“We need the first cohort to turn a profit before others will follow suit,” Lu Yun remarked. “Someone has to lead the charge.”

“I’ll meet with the village committee leaders from several villages over the next few days,” Old Ding said. “Encouraging young locals to return and start businesses has great potential.”

Chen Jian kept his eyes glued to the road while listening to the discussion. With Shan Yu around, he felt remarkably at ease in these settings; he rarely needed to speak, chiming in only when directly addressed.

Yet if Shan Yu weren’t here…

He genuinely wouldn’t know how to sustain the conversation.

In moments like this, he could deeply empathize with Sanbing’s brand of existential bewilderment.

Driving from the inn through the old town to Shannan took merely half an hour. That was precisely why Lu Yun had always envisioned packaging the ancient hamlet of Shitoubao together with the town into a cohesive destination—a cultural tour of stone stelae nestled within the red-leaf mountain forests.

Chen Jian used to come here often as a child. Back when he was at an age unburdened by worries, caring only about having fun, Shitoubao had felt like a grand, magnificent realm.

Towering stone carvings, intricate sculptures, stele markers, and memorial archways—he loved clambering all over them, feeling immensely accomplished whenever he conquered the very top.

As he grew older, he rarely visited anymore.

Returning today, he discovered that everything felt strikingly different from his memories.

It had shrunk.

All the stones looked as though they had been scaled down. The stone lion he used to struggle for ages to climb atop now rested against the pillar of an archway, barely reaching his shoulder.

And those imposing stelae he once had to brace with both arms and hold his breath to scramble up were now within arm’s reach.

The group strolled through the village. Even the settlement itself felt substantially smaller. The meager population of his memory had dwindled even further. Old Ding chatted with an elderly resident feeding chickens outside a stone cottage and learned that barely a dozen households remained, all of them elderly folks.

Lu Yun’s colleagues unloaded their cameras and drones in a village clearing, immediately getting to work documenting the site.

Lu Yun and Shan Yu strolled slowly past the stelae and stone carvings, inspecting each piece closely. Chen Jian trailed alongside, listening in and snapping occasional photos on his phone.

Judging from the inscriptions, the village dated back to the Ming Dynasty—a genuine ancient settlement. However, due to its small size, deep poverty, and inadequate conservation efforts, many heritage structures had fallen into disrepair. Carved stone window lattices and mud-caked foundation stones stripped from collapsed buildings lay strewn along the road.

“Is this a stone drum?” Old Ding leaned in toward a carved stone base.

“A column plinth,” Shan Yu said. “A foundation stone supporting a pillar.”

“Ah,” Old Ding nodded.

“Boss Shan is quite well-versed in this?” Lu Yun remarked.

“Not particularly. Read about it somewhere and happened to retain it,” Shan Yu smiled.

Further along the path lay several fractured stone tablets. Lu Yun and Shan Yu paused to inspect them together. The inscribed characters were weathered and faint, lacking clear punctuation or paragraph breaks—utterly indecipherable to Chen Jian.

Yet Lu Yun and Shan Yu managed to piece together the gist: it seemed to commemorate the village founder’s deeds in transporting grain for a military campaign…

Old Ding listened with keen interest, chiming in with occasional questions.

Chen Jian remained completely silent.

Only in this moment did he viscerally register just how vast the gap could be between two people who both held merely a high school diploma.

Yet that wasn’t the true reason for his silence. After all, he had always known a disparity existed between him and Shan Yu.

What truly rendered him speechless was… jealousy.

Absurdly, overwhelmingly so.

Watching Shan Yu and Lu Yun converse with such seamless rapport stirred an intense wave of unease within him.

And a suffocating rush of jealousy.

That’s Lu Yun, Chen Jian! A municipal official in charge of culture and tourism! What on earth are you imagining?!

…Yet they talk so well together.

Lu Yun is on duty! He’s a workaholic who doesn’t sleep until two in the morning…

…Yet he seems to be single.

Right, a man so wedded to his work he hasn’t even bothered getting married…

…Yet they talk so well together.

Shan Yu is only doing this to coordinate with municipal initiatives…

…Yet they talk so damn well together.

Chen Jian could rationally explain away every single irritating point in his head, yet the unpleasant knot in his chest refused to dissolve.

Dammit all.

So this is what jealousy feels like.

For the first time in his life, he finally understood the concept of being jealous.

Truly unbelievable.

In a setting like this, at a moment like this.

To be subjected to such a bizarre emotional trial.

“And this lion…” Old Ding, ever the diligent student, threw himself entirely into questioning. “From the Ming Dynasty as well?”

“This one should be Qing,” Lu Yun explained. “Ming Dynasty lions are fiercer, exhibiting stronger musculature and dynamic tension.”

“I see…” Old Ding nodded, circling the lion for a full inspection.

When Chen Jian used to climb this lion as a kid, he had simply thought it looked terribly scrawny, resembling an overgrown mutt.

Tsk.

Educational, isn’t it.

“Director Lu truly knows his research,” Shan Yu remarked.

Of course he does. Knows everything under the sun.

“I didn’t understand it before either,” Lu Yun said. “Learned a bit while working on promotional projects for several historic villages previously… It’s a shame about this place; the preservation is far too poor…”

“Still, plenty of vintage dwellings remain,” Shan Yu suggested. “We could tie it into a folk heritage lodging concept.”

“Mm,” Lu Yun nodded.

Speaking of vintage dwellings, the group ambled toward a cluster of older stone houses.

Chen Jian trailed at the very rear.

Lu Yun and Shan Yu discussed plans, Old Ding studied intently, Lu Yun’s colleague snapped photos, and the assistant jotted down notes.

The sole person with absolutely nothing to do was Chen Jian, wandering aimlessly at the tail end.

Forget being an assistant; calling myself a glorified chauffeur is already generous.

Lu Yun and his colleagues stepped into an abandoned courtyard. Chen Jian didn’t follow them inside, standing by the roadside outside and snapping photos on his phone.

Even if he didn’t understand architectural history, the quiet, desolate charm of this row of weathered cottages was undeniably picturesque.

He opened the video camera, panning slowly from near to far.

“Decent camera work,” Shan Yu’s voice murmured right against the back of his ear.

Chen Jian flinched violently, nearly hurling his phone into the dirt.

Reflexively leaping forward a step, he whipped around to find Shan Yu standing behind him, wearing a faint smile.

“Are you insane?” Chen Jian rubbed the back of his neck, darting a cautious glance toward the courtyard. The others were still inside. He looked down and tapped the screen to stop recording.

“Why didn’t you go in?” Shan Yu walked over to his side.

“Grew sick of looking at this stuff as a kid,” Chen Jian muttered. “Only you city folks find it novel.”

Shan Yu didn’t reply, offering only a soft chuckle.

Chen Jian shot him a look. “What?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Shan Yu asked under his breath.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Chen Jian said.

“Really?” Shan Yu tilted his head, studying him intently.

“Go attend to your serious business,” Chen Jian looked away. “Why are you idling around chatting with me?”

“Serious business is exhausting,” Shan Yu said. “Looking for some warmth over here.”

“None to be found,” Chen Jian deadpanned. “My heart is forged of cold steel right now.”

Shan Yu burst out laughing, unable to suppress a rather loud chuckle.

Chen Jian neither smiled nor spoke, simply keeping his head down and reopening the camera app to continue taking photos.

“Chen Jian,” Shan Yu lowered his voice.

“Hm?” Chen Jian grunted in reply.

“This is my first time dating too,” Shan Yu said. “I don’t have much experience…”

“Right, it’s an ongoing learning process,” Old Ding’s voice carried out from the courtyard. “I need to study more myself…”

“Once we get back, you’d better explain clearly what’s gotten into you,” Shan Yu whispered rapidly. “Otherwise I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Chen Jian challenged immediately.

“I’ll show you exactly how we city folks throw a tantrum,” Shan Yu retorted, before smoothly pivoting and walking toward the courtyard gate. “If we develop these heritage cottages, we can link them directly with the old village…”

“Exactly,” Old Ding chimed in. “The old village has plenty of historic houses too. Right now, locals just set up crude stalls or open makeshift eateries without any master planning.”

“Mm,” Lu Yun nodded. Catching sight of Chen Jian standing outside the gate, he asked, “Store Manager Chen must feel pretty numb looking at all this, right? Seen it all your life.”

“I still feel something,” Chen Jian said. “Though the feeling might be different. Looking at these, it’s just… the feeling of hometown. Very familiar and comforting.”

“That’s an interesting angle,” Lu Yun looked at him thoughtfully. “A ‘journey back to one’s roots.’ Store Manager Chen is quite an observant person.”

How on earth did you deduce that?!

Chen Jian offered a polite smile without answering, at a loss for words.

“Shan Yu forwarded me the compilation of ideas you put together earlier…” Lu Yun added.

Oh? I’m ‘Store Manager Chen,’ but Boss Shan gets to be ‘Shan Yu’ now?

…Wait a second.

What compilation of ideas? Forwarded to Lu Yun?!

“That’s why certain details can only be caught by locals,” Lu Yun said to Old Ding.

“Right, right, exactly,” Old Ding nodded. “Plus, young people have agile minds.”

Chen Jian looked at Shan Yu. Shan Yu merely smiled back.

Chen Jian finally connected the dots: that notepad list he had sent Shan Yu that day—Shan Yu hadn’t spouted off to President Liu with it; he had taken it straight to Lu Yun.

After touring Shitoubao for two hours and allowing Lu Yun’s colleagues to finish their documentation, they drove back toward town.

“Does Director Lu have plans for lunch?” Shan Yu asked.

“Yes,” Lu Yun replied. “Pick up the dog, head back to the office.”

Shan Yu chuckled.

“We covered enough ground today, no need to arrange a meal,” Lu Yun said. “At the end of the month, President He and his team are bringing a trial tour group. Handling that group well is worth ten banquet dinners.”

“Understood,” Shan Yu smiled and nodded.

When they arrived back at Dayin, Hu Pan had already brought Shiwu out to the front courtyard, his luggage packed and ready.

Stepping out of the vehicle, however, Chen Jian was surprised to see that the person holding Shiwu’s leash was Xiao Dou’er.

“Xiao Dou’er? You’re back?” he called out.

“It’s me!” Holding Shiwu’s leash, Xiao Dou’er jogged over. “Chen Jian-ge, Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year,” Chen Jian hugged her. “Come inside in a bit and I’ll give you a red envelope.”

“Boss-brother, Happy New Year!” Xiao Dou’er turned and shouted toward Shan Yu.

“Happy New Year,” Shan Yu walked over and gently tugged her little braid.

Xiao Dou’er was an exceptionally polite child. Since the Lantern Festival hadn’t passed yet, her understanding was that she had to offer New Year greetings to everyone present. Thus, she naturally turned toward Lu Yun, who had just stepped out of the car.

“Dou’er! Let’s go,” Chen Jian scooped Xiao Dou’er up into his arms, spinning around to head inside.

Lu Yun had already exited the vehicle, smiling warmly at the little girl.

“Uncle, Happy New Year!” Xiao Dou’er piped up in a crisp, clear voice.

“Happy New Year,” Lu Yun chuckled, waving to her as his hand reached into his coat pocket. “Come here.”

“No, no, no, please…” This time, even the ever-unflappable Shan Yu grew frantic, stepping directly between them to block Lu Yun. “Director Lu, this really isn’t appropriate…”

“It’s completely appropriate,” Lu Yun said, producing a red envelope and offering it to Xiao Dou’er. “I always keep a few ready for kids during the holidays.”

Xiao Dou’er was a sharp child; she had already picked up on Chen Jian’s and Shan Yu’s hesitance.

“Thank you, Uncle,” she tucked her hands firmly into her own pockets. “I can’t take it.”

“Now look at this…” Lu Yun looked at Shan Yu. “Look at the scene you two caused.”

“Take it, Xiao Dou’er,” Shan Yu relented with a smile.

Xiao Dou’er hesitated for a beat before reaching out to accept the envelope: “Thank you, Uncle!”

Lu Yun really is a decent guy.

Chen Jian sighed internally as he watched Lu Yun’s car drive out through the courtyard gate.

Yet in the very next second, irritation flared right back up.

Precisely because he is such a decent guy!

That’s why!

He glared at Shan Yu.

Shan Yu happened to be looking right at him. The moment their eyes locked, Shan Yu reached out and poked him hard on the forehead. Turning to walk inside, he tossed a single command over his shoulder:

“You. Come here.”

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