Love Finds Its Time - Chapter 33

The first round of competition in Inside and Outside the Drama ended with Shi Qingqiu’s group taking first place with nine points, Qin Wang’s group second with eight points, Yu Shushen in third, while Lu Sizhou and Xu Zhi tied for fourth.

Wen Qinghan’s braised fish and fish soup were unanimously praised by the villagers invited to the village chief’s home to judge, including the uncle who had guided her in fishing. Even Qin Wang and the others accepted the results without complaint, and Yu Shushen even offered words of praise.

After filming the first half, the cameramen also joined the staff for dinner.

Though the actors had been told that failing to cook meant going hungry, once the cameras were turned off, the crew added more food so everyone could share. The feast lasted until almost midnight before they finally dispersed.

The next morning, Shi Qingqiu woke naturally. Turning over, her drowsiness lightened; squinting against the brightness pouring into the room, her brows furrowed slightly as she adjusted.

She couldn’t face the window’s glare for long and drew her gaze back. The next moment, it landed on Wen Qinghan’s tranquil face.

Asleep, Wen Qinghan didn’t seem so cold or sharp-edged. Her softened features, framed by long dark hair spilling across the pillow, carried a quiet allure that one hardly dared disturb.

The sleepiness faded from Shi Qingqiu’s eyes as she silently watched—at those long, faintly curled lashes, the fine bridge of her nose, the pale thin lips. Wen Qinghan had always been strikingly beautiful, but in moments when her aloofness eased, that beauty seemed even more dazzling.

A faint smile tugged at Shi Qingqiu’s lips. Her hand stirred almost of its own accord, rising cautiously, her fingers aching to brush across Wen Qinghan’s cheek. Before she realized it, her fingertips had already grazed the skin.

There was no time for her to think further before Wen Qinghan’s eyes slowly opened, catching the fluster in Shi Qingqiu’s gaze completely.

“Qinghan, good morning.” Shi Qingqiu pressed her lips together, trying her best to sound natural.

Wen Qinghan could tell something was off, though she didn’t know why. When she had opened her eyes, Shi Qingqiu’s glance had darted away—but what had happened just before, she couldn’t say.

“Morning.” Wen Qinghan’s voice was faint, a little languid with sleep, though her eyes never left Shi Qingqiu’s. After a pause, she asked, “No alarm today—will that be a problem?”

Shi Qingqiu smiled. “The host said last night we could sleep in a little today. It’s fine.”

Wen Qinghan said nothing more, tugging the blanket higher. But her reddened fingertips caught Shi Qingqiu’s notice. Before she could pull her hand back, Shi Qingqiu caught it, spreading her left hand open to reveal the red burns on her index and middle fingers.

“Qinghan, does it still hurt?” Shi Qingqiu held her hand, fingers gently caressing the injured tips.

“It doesn’t.” Wen Qinghan tried to move her hand away, but Shi Qingqiu didn’t let go. She blinked, fell silent, and avoided her gaze.

They were the same fingers that had been scalded yesterday while serving Shi Qingqiu soup. The burn still stung faintly, but under Shi Qingqiu’s touch, what swelled stronger was a yearning deep in her chest.

Shi Qingqiu chuckled softly, guiding Wen Qinghan’s hand back under the blanket and tenderly rubbing the burned skin. “Don’t do that again. You can wait for the soup to cool before giving it to me—I’m not that impatient. And for the next competitions, don’t take everything on yourself. Give me some tasks too, Lawyer Wen, Chef Wen.”

Before she finished, Wen Qinghan squeezed her hand back, her thumb brushing again and again across Shi Qingqiu’s skin, then slipped free of her grip, only to turn and press her palm over Shi Qingqiu’s hand instead.

There was still space between them. Wen Qinghan drew in a breath, about to move closer, when the host’s muffled voice rang from outside, “Wake up! Time to work! Don’t sleep in! The early bird gets the worm!”

Wen Qinghan’s body froze mid-motion. The moment passed in a flash; Shi Qingqiu was still smiling at her.

The flicker of impulse in her eyes vanished cleanly. Her voice was calm again. “Alright. I know. Let’s get up.”

***

When everyone had finished washing up and gathered in the courtyard, the host was already standing behind a table. On the table sat a large box. Clapping his hands, he called out, “Everyone in position!”

At his words, the cameramen all hefted their equipment and got to work. Qin Wang raised his voice, shouting, “What’s going on here? Is this box for drawing lots?”

The good thing about Qin Wang was that no one else needed to voice their doubts—he was always the first to ask.

Everyone turned to look at the host, who tapped on the box, picked up a megaphone, and said, “According to your team numbers, send one person up to draw. What you get will guide you to an envelope, and that envelope has a lot to do with the next part of the competition.” The crowd fell silent. He emphasized again, “But! Once you draw, you must set out immediately. No whispering, no exchanging clues!” His gaze swept over the group, and when he nodded in satisfaction, his voice softened as he asked, “Team One, over here with Qingqiu. Between you and Lawyer Wen, who’s going?”

Wen Qinghan gave Shi Qingqiu a look, and Shi Qingqiu stepped forward, reaching into the hole in the middle of the box. After fumbling around a bit, she grabbed a folded slip of paper and returned to Wen Qinghan’s side.

The host nodded. “Next, Team Two, Shushen-jie’s group…”

One team after another went up to draw in sequence. During that time, Shi Qingqiu unfolded her slip of paper. On it was written: White cranes cry to the nine heavens, their voices echoing for miles above; a rhino gazes at the moon, joy and fortune clearly revealed.

Wen Qinghan read it softly, then lowered her eyes in thought. Shi Qingqiu folded the paper back into her palm and frowned in puzzlement. “What does this mean? Is it related to animals?”

Wen Qinghan shook her head slightly, her voice quiet. “I’m not sure either.”

Both she and Shi Qingqiu had graduated from the law department, and it had been a long time since either of them had touched literature. Faced with this so suddenly, she couldn’t make sense of it beyond the literal words.

“Alright, now that each group has their own clue, you can set out to find your target. Be back here before dinner. Tonight, you won’t have to cook—the villagers will host you instead!”

After speaking, the host lowered his megaphone and leisurely scanned the crowd, then urged, “Go on, what are you standing around for? If you don’t find the envelope, you won’t eat tonight.”

“No way, that harsh?” Qin Wang exclaimed. Ji Lan patted his shoulder, gesturing for him to start studying the clue.

“Let’s set off then, good luck everyone,” Yu Shushen said with a confident smile, not at all troubled by the contents of her slip.

If everyone’s paper held such verses, this was probably Yu Shushen’s specialty. Wen Qinghan remembered that on the first day, Yu Shushen had quoted poems containing both her and Shi Qingqiu’s names.

“We’re heading out too.”

“So are we.”

Lu Sizhou and Xu Zhi, who were closer friends, exchanged farewells with the others. Shi Qingqiu and Wen Qinghan also left the village chief’s house with the rest.

As they walked, Shi Qingqiu muttered, “These lines mention one that flies in the sky and one that runs on the ground. Don’t tell me they hid the thing on animals? That seems impossible…”

Their cameraman kept pace, taking close-up shots of Shi Qingqiu’s frown and troubled expression. For outdoor variety shows, audiences loved watching this sort of game process.

Wen Qinghan shook her head again. “If it were animals, they should have given us a matching clue. But white cranes and rhinos—it’s obvious there aren’t any here.”

“Then maybe an animal with traits in common? Something we could actually find around here?”

Wen Qinghan glanced at her and replied coolly, “Pheasants, water buffalo.”

Shi Qingqiu: …

A stately white crane, and all they could match it with here was a pheasant—or maybe a wild duck. But one thing was certain: there were definitely no cranes or rhinos in this place. Which made sense. If it were that easy to figure out, why would the program give them so much time to search?

The two wandered along the village paths for quite a while without a clue. Not only were there no cranes or rhinos, they barely even saw cats or dogs.

Seeing beads of sweat forming on Wen Qinghan’s forehead under the sun, Shi Qingqiu pulled a tissue from her pocket and reached out naturally to wipe it away, as though it were something she had done countless times before.

Wen Qinghan pressed her lips together, avoiding her gaze. After a moment, she caught the tissue and said, “I’ll do it myself.”

Shi Qingqiu let go and looked at her gently. “Thank you for your hard work.”

In the past, she had rarely paid close attention to Wen Qinghan, but through this time together, she had begun to notice things she had never seen before.

Wen Qinghan preferred action over words. Most of the time, she made her own plans silently, never showing them on the surface—whether it was something good, or her worries and anxieties.

Holding the tissue, she glanced at Shi Qingqiu, and in her eyes was a faint expectation. Cautiously, with her other hand, she reached out and took Shi Qingqiu’s hand. “Qingqiu, let’s go rest over there for a while and talk it over. I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Mm, alright.”

They went to a nearby villager’s house, explained that they wanted to rest, and were warmly welcomed. The villager brought out a few chairs under a tree so they and the cameraman could sit in the shade.

Wen Qinghan asked Shi Qingqiu for the slip of paper. Lowering her head, she murmured, “These verses must be pointing to something. But what exactly…”

“White cranes cry to the nine heavens, voices echoing for miles. I don’t think we’ve studied this poem before…” Shi Qingqiu muttered. “Could it be some obscure verse? The program group didn’t even note the author.”

“Wait—we’ve been trying to figure out what the poem means, but we haven’t considered what it actually is,” Wen Qinghan suddenly said, her voice growing firmer. “What if it isn’t even a poem?”

Shi Qingqiu blinked, still processing, when the auntie beside them, who had been sifting beans with a bamboo sieve, chuckled and asked curiously, “What are you two kids talking about? Anything I can help with?”

Her speech carried a bit of a local accent, unlike the relatively standard Mandarin of the other villagers the program had selected. But that also meant she had likely lived here a long time—long enough to know more.

Thinking of this, Shi Qingqiu quickly pulled her chair closer, took the paper from Wen Qinghan’s hand, and handed it to the auntie. “Auntie, could you take a look at this? Can you tell what it’s talking about?”

The auntie set down her work and squinted at the slip. “White cranes nine… what? Oh dear, I can’t make sense of this.” Shi Qingqiu smiled faintly, hope rising then falling again in an instant. But before she could say anything to Wen Qinghan, the auntie suddenly added, “I can’t understand it myself, but it looks just like one of those fortune slips. A girl from the next village drew one the other day and wrote it out for us to see—looked exactly like this.”

Wen Qinghan’s attention sharpened. “A slip? A fortune slip? There’s fortune drawing here?”

The auntie nodded. “There is, but it’s far. At the foot of that mountain over there, there’s an old temple. An old monk has lived there for decades. Usually he gathers some wild greens to sell in town, just enough to keep incense burning in the temple.” As she spoke, she stood and pointed them the way.

Their confusion seemed to lift at once. Whether right or not, it made sense: those verses were probably from a fortune slip, and their destination had to be that old temple.

“Thank you, Auntie.” Shi Qingqiu stood and bowed her thanks, tugging Wen Qinghan along as she said, “Qinghan, let’s hurry.”

After thanking her, the two set off quickly, with the cameraman rushing after. The auntie called after them, “Take care, the road’s rough!”

They walked in the direction she had pointed. Now that they had a goal, they wasted no more time and headed straight for the temple. But the path was indeed difficult, full of holes and dips. Who knew why the program group had hidden the clue so far? That mountain was at least a kilometer or two from the village.

Their persistence paid off. When they arrived at the temple, the old monk was sweeping the ground in front. The temple itself was crumbling and steeped in dust, exuding an air of age and decay.