Qingyuan Bookstore

The group drove into the village, stopping in front of Light Source Book House.

Ming Shuzhen cradled a cup of corn silk tea, now lukewarm, sipping slowly.

Liu Wenjing, the head of Bazi Village, dressed simply, waited at the Book House, warmly greeting them as the car parked.

She shook hands with Ming Shuyan first, introducing herself, then with Ming Shuzhen and the others.

Xu Bao, the project’s lead architect, was there too. Just past his 40th birthday, his long beard aged him further.

Familiar with his profile, the group recognized him.

Xu Bao stood loosely beside Liu Wenjing, skipping handshakes.

Liu Wenjing ushered them inside, leading the tour.

Typically, the architect would guide, knowing the building best and explaining design concepts, but Xu Bao brushed it off, saying, “Too many third-party inspectors have come; repeating introductions wastes time.” The task fell to Liu Wenjing.

Fortunately, she’d heard the spiel often, knew the Book House well, spoke concisely in clear Mandarin, and was easy to follow.

The main structure was lightweight wood, with 25 cm of insulated walls, giving it a squat, chubby look.

A glass corridor encircled it, with transparent doors and windows drawing in natural light and solar energy, ensuring insulation.

In summer, bamboo blinds on the corridor blocked the sun effectively.

Liu Wenjing emphasized the Book House’s winter warmth and summer coolness.

Inside, the wall-length bookshelf was made from repurposed village wood, painted and polished, with varying heights for a less oppressive feel.

Books, numbered and pristine, filled it—some donated by philanthropists, others bought by Liu Wenjing herself.

“Southern winters lack heating. A space this size would guzzle electricity with AC, and it wouldn’t warm well. So, we thickened the walls and foundation with insulation, wrapping the Book House like cotton. It cuts AC needs in winter,” Liu Wenjing explained.

“Eco-friendly materials too—straw panels, low-VOC paint, bamboo flooring,” she continued, engaging with eye contact. Noticing Ming Shuzhen’s empty tea cup, she took it and tossed it in the trash. “The architects put in a lot of thought.”

Xu Bao, hearing the praise, tilted his head slightly, expressionless but clearly pleased.

Ming Shuzhen examined the bamboo flooring, its natural grain decorative, the bamboo lines sleek, matching the Book House’s fresh, natural vibe.

Ming Shuyan listened closely, noting the walls. Labeled “low-energy,” the project wasn’t cheap. Some cost-saving measures showed, but the architect’s award-chasing ambition was clear.

From Team One’s prior report, Ming Shuyan recalled a note on the wall cross-section, explaining the thickened insulation—mainly rock wool and XPS boards.

Rock wool was fireproof; XPS boards had low thermal conductivity, great for insulation and moisture resistance, eco-friendly too.

But XPS boards were brittle, prone to damage or cracking during transport or installation.

Team One’s report lacked XPS board testing details.

Ming Shuyan had questioned this, learning the architect had hired another firm, excluding them from that test.

Without it, a full report was impossible, stalling the project.

“Village Head Liu, just to confirm, we’re handling all the reports for this project, right?” Ming Shuyan double-checked.

“Of course,” Liu Wenjing affirmed.

“Good. Let’s start with the wall panels. Our previous team did some work; we’ll pick up from there.”

Liu Wenjing was about to agree when Xu Bao, silent until now, spoke up. “I don’t mind continuing, but your company’s a bit irresponsible. Using last year’s data for new reports? That’s sloppy.”

His words stung, and Team Two frowned, looking to Ming Shuyan.

She stayed calm, not glancing at Xu Bao. “Is Engineer Xu implying that in less than a year, the Book House has deformed so much that last year’s data is unreliable?”

Xu Bao froze, silent.

“We’re not cutting corners. We’ll test thoroughly and redo any needed calculations,” Ming Shuyan said, finally eyeing Xu Bao. “Just hope Engineer Xu cooperates.”

Xu Bao’s neck stiffened, but he didn’t reply.

Without regulations requiring library inspections or international awards in sight, he’d have preferred to gloss over any wall issues.

Sensing tension, Liu Wenjing smoothed things over. “We’ll cooperate. Let’s make a group chat for easier communication. Any issues, reach out to me.”

Her manner was open, her smile natural, putting people at ease.

Ming Shuyan, giving her face, nodded slightly.

“No worries,” Liu Wenjing grinned, shooting Xu Bao a look.

The tour continued.

“No kids reading here?” Ming Shuzhen recalled Han Shuyu’s words—children found the place too formal, especially with frequent official visits, and stayed away.

Liu Wenjing sighed, her smile fading. “I’ve promoted it at schools. Some kids peeked in at first, but they’d run when called. The Book House’s style clashes with the village houses; it feels alien to them. We need more follow-up work.”

“Oh,” Ming Shuzhen nodded, aligning with Han Shuyu’s take.

After the tour, it was lunchtime. Liu Wenjing arranged boxed meals.

To avoid smells in the Book House, they ate in the courtyard, setting up a table.

Southern winters were nearly as harsh as northern ones, and sitting outside, their hands and feet froze.

Liu Wenjing apologized. “Sorry for the poor hospitality. There’s a small courtyard nearby for meals, but kids are holding an event there today, so we’re stuck here.”

“It’s fine. Food warms us up,” Ming Shuyan said, unfussy.

Qian Duoduo and the others echoed her, saying it was no big deal.

Liu Wenjing refilled their teacups with hot water and handed out tissues.

Chatting, they learned Liu Wenjing was a university student village official, assigned here after graduation. She stayed past her two-year term, continuing to develop Bazi Village.

When Xu Bao sought a site for a low-energy building, he connected with Liu Wenjing, then the local government, leading to the Book House.

The courtyard had a dirt path with stone bricks laid in the center for walking.

“No plans to plant anything here?” Ming Shuyan scanned the bare soil.

“We thought about it—feels meaningful—but haven’t decided,” Liu Wenjing said, smacking her lips. “The Book House’s issues: one, getting this inspection report out fast; two, kids not coming to read, making the build pointless.”

“I considered using the courtyard to draw kids in,” she added, rubbing her hands, regretful. “Haven’t figured it out yet.”

Xu Bao, hearing about the report, paused his chopsticks, urging, “I’m entering an international architecture award next year. You need to test quickly.”

Ming Shuzhen blinked, finding Xu Bao’s tone rude.

Used to him, Liu Wenjing deftly shifted topics. “Our village has unique cultural practices, applying for intangible heritage status. If you’re interested, join me at the workshop this afternoon.”

No one was keen but humored her. “Sure, sounds good.”

Ming Shuzhen, not hungry, ate little, cradling her teacup for warmth.

Her hands were toasty, but the air remained frigid.

Ming Shuyan, beside her, didn’t look but noticed with a glance, draping her velvet scarf over Ming Shuzhen’s legs.

“Hm?” Ming Shuzhen watched, lifting an arm to avoid touching her.

“Thanks, Boss.” The fabric added warmth.

Ming Shuyan didn’t reply, resuming her chat with Liu Wenjing.

After lunch, Xu Bao rushed back to the city. The group followed Liu Wenjing to the workshop, watching grandmas dye and tie fabric.

On the way, Liu Wenjing quietly explained that prior inspection firms flagged various issues, requiring costly material replacements and effort. Xu Bao missed two award competitions because of it, so he was impatient and tactless now.

The group, understanding, said they didn’t mind.

At the workshop, grandmas sat around a long table, using slender bamboo sticks to etch local patterns onto white cotton. Many elementary kids were visiting, creating a lively scene.

Ming Shuzhen, still wearing Ming Shuyan’s scarf, half her face buried in it, watched the dyeing closely.

Qian Duoduo, intrigued, snapped photos.

Liu Wenjing addressed the kids. “Keep voices low, dyeing needs focus—don’t disturb the grandmas.”

She spoke in local dialect, which Ming Shuzhen’s group didn’t understand, but her patient demeanor with the children was clear.