The Fake Heiress Strikes Back: The Mantis Stalks the Cicada
Su Zhirou sent a second letter.
It wasn’t addressed to Su Qing.
It was for someone in the commune next to Xiangyang Production Brigade—Educated Youth Li.
Li Jianjun, twenty-three years old, had a gentle face and wore thin-rimmed gold glasses. Among the sent-down youth, he was one of the few who’d finished high school, earning him the label of “scholarly.”
But his “learning” wasn’t in books.
It was in scheming.
Li Jianjun and Su Zhirou came from the same city. Before going to the countryside, they’d shared an ambiguous, ill-defined closeness.
This time, Su Zhirou’s letter carried one clear message:
“Keep an eye on Su Qing for me. She’s grown very close to a military region commander—I need to know exactly what their relationship is. If you can dig up anything to ruin her reputation—photos, proof, anything at all—I’ll repay you handsomely.”
The last line read:
“Once this is done, I’ll secure a return quota to the city for you.”
A return quota.
To a youth exiled to the countryside, those five words were worth more than a million yuan.
Li Jianjun finished reading, pushed up his glasses, and curled the corner of his mouth into a faint smile.
Three days later.
On her way back from selling goods at the black market in town, Su Qing “ran into” someone on the road.
“Comrade Su?”
She stopped.
A young man in gold-rimmed glasses stepped out from behind the roadside trees, wearing a refined, polite smile.
“I’m Li Jianjun, from the neighboring Hongxing Commune. I’ve heard so much about you—”
Su Qing sized him up.
Crisp shirt, gold glasses, a slight tilt of the head as he spoke—classic “scholarly” mannerisms.
But two details caught her attention.
First: the red clay unique to Hongxing Commune caked on his shoe soles, proving he’d come from there. Yet Hongxing Commune was nearly ten kilometers away—this was no chance encounter. He’d come looking for her.
Second: when he smiled, his eyes held no warmth.
In her mind, she marked him: Dangerous. Unclear motives. Needs watching.
On her face, though, she offered just the right amount of friendly warmth.
“Hello, Comrade Li.”
“Fame doesn’t do you justice! Everyone says your medical skills are extraordinary—I’d pictured a seasoned elder, never someone so young.”
“You flatter me.”
“I actually came to ask—” He rubbed his hands together, feigning shyness “—some of our villagers have been unwell. Would you be willing to come examine them? Travel expenses and consultation fees are no issue—”
“That’s fine. Have you speak with our Party branch secretary, and we’ll arrange a time.”
“Wonderful!” Li Jianjun’s eyes lit up. “I’ll pay a proper visit another day.”
“Alright.”
They exchanged polite goodbyes.
Su Qing walked away.
Fifty meters on—once she was sure he couldn’t see her anymore—her expression turned cold.
Something was off about this man.
His approach was far too deliberate.
Their “meeting place” lay exactly on her usual route back from the black market—meaning he’d scouted her movements in advance.
His request sounded reasonable enough, but the proper way to invite a doctor from another commune was through official channels, not a single youth stopping her on the road.
Most importantly—there was that look of appraisal in his eyes.
Not curiosity about a renowned healer.
The assessment of someone sizing up a target.
Su Qing quickly ran through possibilities in her head.
Most likely—this had to do with Su Zhirou.
After losing face during her last visit to the youth settlement, Su Zhirou would never let this rest. She’d probably never recover from the look on Lu Zhanye’s face.
So she’d sent someone else.
Someone from another commune—harder to trace back to the Su family.
A harmless-looking “scholar.”
Su Qing’s lips curved.
The mantis stalks the cicada.
Su Zhirou fancied herself the mantis.
Little did she know—behind the cicada lurked a sparrow.
That evening.
Su Qing went to find Lu Zhanye.
This was the first time she’d come to him on her own—instead of waiting for him to sneak over the wall.
Military compound. Commander’s quarters.
She hesitated for a split second outside the door.
Then knocked.
Xiao Zhao opened it.
His expression shifted from shock to delight, settling into a look that screamed “Finally!”
“Comrade Su! What brings you here! Come in—Commander’s inside!”
He turned and shouted: “Commander! Comrade Su is—”
He didn’t finish.
A tall figure stepped out from the inner room.
Lu Zhanye wore an old white undershirt, with a military jacket thrown loosely over it—only the middle two buttons done up.
His strong neck and collarbone were exposed.
He’d clearly just washed his face—water droplets glistened on his jaw, one clinging to his brow, his hair still damp at the edges.
Su Qing’s gaze lingered on his collarbone for 0.3 seconds.
Then darted away.
Lu Zhanye froze when he saw her.
His first move wasn’t to ask why she’d come, or to invite her in.
He reached for his jacket and buttoned it all the way up—tight, even the top collar fastened.
Then he glanced at Xiao Zhao.
Xiao Zhao caught on instantly.
“I’ll go… fetch water!”
He bolted—faster than a startled rabbit.
Only the two of them remained.
Su Qing sat on the only chair in the room: a hard wooden seat draped with a faded army-green cushion.
Lu Zhanye perched on the edge of his bed, about a meter and a half away.
He sat ramrod straight, as if reporting to his superior.
The sight struck Su Qing as absurd—he looked stricter in his own quarters than during a military briefing.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, getting straight to the point.
“Mm.”
“Someone’s investigating me.”
Lu Zhanye’s eyes sharpened instantly—switching seamlessly from “nervous in front of the girl he likes” to “military commander on duty.”
“Who.”
Su Qing recounted her encounter with Li Jianjun—her assessment of his identity, her suspicion of Su Zhirou’s involvement, and that unsettling look of appraisal in his eyes.
She spoke concisely, logically, like delivering a tactical briefing.
Lu Zhanye fell silent for five seconds.
“I’ll have someone look into him.”
“No need.”
“Pardon?”
“I said no need.” Su Qing smiled faintly. “He’s not worth wasting military resources on.”
“I’ll handle this myself.”
Lu Zhanye frowned.
“But—”
“I didn’t come here for help.”
“Then why are you here?”
She met his gaze.
“To let you know.”
“In case you hear ugly rumors about me later—”
“Don’t believe them.”
Her voice softened just a little on the last two words.
But Lu Zhanye caught the trust woven into that slight drop in tone.
She hadn’t come begging for aid.
She’d come to share the truth.
To trust that he’d stand by her.
Lu Zhanye gripped the sheet over his knees.
“I won’t believe a word of it,” he said, his voice low and unwavering.
“Not if a thousand people say it. I only believe what you tell me.”
Su Qing looked into his eyes.
He spoke with absolute certainty—not empty comfort, but the ironclad promise of a soldier.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
She quickly looked away.
“Right. I should go.” She stood up.
“I’ll walk you.”
“No need—”
“I’ll walk you.” He was already on his feet, jacket buttoned tight.
Su Qing saw the resolve in his face and gave up arguing.
“…Fine.”
They stepped out into the night.
The moon blazed bright—these days it seemed to shine extra hard whenever they met after dark, like a spotlight on stage.
Halfway back, Lu Zhanye spoke up.
“Su Qing.”
“Yes?”
“From now on—no matter what happens.”
“Big or small.”
“Tell me first.”
She glanced sideways at him.
He stared straight ahead, the moonlight carving sharp lines into his profile: firm jaw, high cheekbones, the pale old scar curving like a silver centipede across his skin.
“It’s not that I think you can’t handle it,” he added quietly.
“It’s just—”
He paused.
“Your business is my business.”
Under the moonlight, Su Qing’s heart skipped a beat.
A full, perfect beat.
She opened her mouth to say something, but in the end, said nothing at all.
She simply walked beside him, her arm brushing close to his—close enough to feel his warmth, but never leaning in.
He didn’t lean toward her either.
But that distance—
It was just right.