Summer nights in Huaguo Village were quiet and serene. He Yanchu lay on her old wooden bed, clutching the quilt to her chest. She closed her eyes, working hard to organize the scattered memories in her mind—it was 1974 in Chun City, a village hidden deep in the mountains where various ethnic groups lived together.
Contrary to her imagination, this village—a mix of Miao, Yao, Yi, and Han people—didn’t have the petty schemes and constant infighting she had read about in other “period” novels. Because of their isolation by the great mountains, the villagers were remarkably united.
When she remembered that there was an endless supply of wild mushrooms here, her smile grew so wide it nearly reached her ears. The villagers would head up the mountain with giant baskets and bring them back overflowing with forest treasures. In her previous life, she had been a mushroom fanatic, often spending a small fortune at restaurants during the season. It happened to be June now, and the forest was incredibly generous; Jizong and Matsutake mushrooms were everywhere. Thanks to these delicacies, the villagers lived a much more comfortable life than one might expect.
Yanchu rolled over happily, the wooden bed emitting a soft creak. She stared at the rafters, lost in thought. Her memory told her that her “mother,” Fang Zhizhi, had originally married into this remote valley because she had fallen for the deep-set eyes and tall, upright stature of her Yi husband.
She smiled to herself. Mom was definitely a woman of character—no magical space or “gold finger” can compete with a handsome face. Then again, if I were in her shoes, I’d probably choose the same. With the space, I don’t have to worry about food or clothes in this era, so of course, my priority for a partner would be someone who catches my eye.
The night breeze brushed through the trees outside, the rustling sound acting like a lullaby. Yanchu’s eyelids grew heavy. She had intended to enter the space to talk to Kongling, but so much had happened today that she was simply too exhausted to stay awake. Just before falling into a deep sleep, she thought vaguely: No work stress, a magical space, and no worries about hunger. This simple life seems… not bad at all.
Moonlight draped over the He family courtyard like a soft veil. Inside her room, the young woman was curled up in her embroidered quilt with a sweet smile on her face, completely unaware of the commotion outside.
A military jeep crunched over the gravel road at the village entrance, startling a few dogs into barking. The moment the headlights cut out, Xiang Yang turned to the passenger seat. “We’re here.”
His gaze fell on He Yannuo’s tightly pressed lips. Ever since learning about Han Qingmo’s family background, she hadn’t said a word.
Bang! The car door slammed shut. Yannuo took the stairs two at a time to the courtyard gate, but before she could reach out, she heard a creak.
“Nuonuo?” He Yancheng stepped out, draped in an old military coat, his surprised face illuminated by the moon. “What are you doing back in the middle of the night?”
“Big Brother!” Yannuo grabbed his arm so hard he hissed in pain. “Is Xiaochu asleep?” Her gaze pierced through the darkness toward Yanchu’s second-floor window.
“Long ago.” Yancheng rubbed his aching arm, finally noticing the tall figure in the shadows. “And this is…?”
“My boyfriend, Xiang Yang,” Yannuo said bluntly. Yancheng’s eyes instantly lit up. He was overjoyed—his “ice queen” of a second sister had actually brought a man home!
He hurriedly invited them inside, nearly spilling water all over the table in his excitement. He kept stealing glances at Xiang Yang: sharp brows, starry eyes, a straight posture, and at least 1.8 meters tall. He nodded inwardly. Not bad. The looks and the height both pass the test!
“Big Brother…” Yannuo rubbed her forehead. Her brother’s fawning made it look like he was terrified she’d never get married. She glanced at the stiffly seated Xiang Yang; the sight of his reddening ears made her heart soften.
A breeze swept through the hall. Yancheng lowered his voice. “You’ve come at the right time. Comrade Han’s wound is hurting so much he can’t sleep…”
Before he could finish, Yannuo stood up abruptly.
Xiang Yang quickly tried to smooth things over. “Should we arrange the sleeping quarters first?” He gently brushed the back of Yannuo’s hand, finding it ice-cold.
“Comrade Xiang can sleep in the west room with Yanhua…” Yancheng began, but his sister cut him off.
“Let him stay with Han Qingmo,” Yannuo said in a tone that brooked no argument. “They know each other; they’re childhood friends.”
“Childhood friends?” Yancheng looked at Xiang Yang, who nodded.
A smirk played on Xiang Yang’s lips. Haven’t seen that sharp-tongued brat in two years. Wonder what he’s like now?
Inside the room, Han Qingmo had actually been awake for a while. He leaned against the headboard, listening to the voices outside. When the wooden door creaked open, he intentionally closed his eyes.
“Brother Mo?” Xiang Yang crept closer, only to trip over a wooden staff lying by the bed.
“Two years, and you’re still as clumsy as ever,” Han Qingmo said, slowly opening his eyes.
Xiang Yang froze for two seconds before lunging forward for a bear hug. “You brat! You were faking it, weren’t you?” He only let go when he heard a muffled groan, realizing he’d hit the wound. But even as Han Qingmo winced, he was smiling.
“Easy there. I need to get well fast; the banquet is in two days!” Han Qingmo pointed to the canteen on the table. “Pour me some water.”
As Xiang Yang handed him the water, his expression turned serious. “Are you really marrying the little sister of the He family?”
“Yes.” The short answer made Xiang Yang’s eyes go wide. Back then, even the “Flower of the Arts Troupe” chasing him to his dorm hadn’t earned a single glance from this guy.
Outside the door, Yannuo stood listening to the laughter inside. Maybe I’m being too protective? Perhaps this Han Qingmo isn’t as bad as I thought. She turned and headed up to the second floor, a ghost of a smile touching her lips.
The next morning, Yanchu was woken up by the noise in the courtyard. She rubbed her eyes and pushed open the window. She saw Xiang Yang helping Han Qingmo with physical therapy under the pomegranate tree.
The two were bickering like children: “Your limp looks exactly like when you fell off that wall back in the day.” “Still better than someone being chased up a tree by a dog.” “That was a military dog from your own house!”
Yanchu burst out laughing, and both men looked up. Han Qingmo’s gaze softened instantly, while Xiang Yang waved exaggeratedly. “Morning, Little Sister!”
The shout brought Yannuo out as well. She stood in the yard holding a bowl of medicine just as Yanchu quickly ducked back from the window.
“Drink this.” Yannuo shoved the bowl into Han Qingmo’s hands and lowered her voice. “If you ever let Xiaochu suffer a single grievance…”
“Second Sister!” Yanchu had already sprinted into the yard and given Yannuo a massive bear hug. “When did you get here?”
“Last night. You were asleep, so I didn’t wake you,” Yannuo said succinctly.
Yanchu looked down at Han Qingmo drinking the medicine. “Second Sister, did you prescribe this for him?”
Yannuo nodded. “Since you’re set on marrying him, I’ll help him heal first.” She paused, then added, “Honestly, I didn’t want you to marry him. His family background is too prestigious, the gap between us is too wide, and his reputation isn’t exactly great. But I thought about it all night. It’s rare for you to want something—this is the first time you’ve been proactive in twenty years. So, I’ll let you have your way. Your brother and I will be here to back you up if anything happens.”