She grew into a very neat person.

The next morning, Ming Shuzhen woke to an empty bed beside her.

Checking WeChat, she saw Ming Shuyan’s message: “I have a meeting this morning, heading to the Book House first.”

Originally scheduled for last night, Ming Shuyan had rescheduled the meeting to today due to their conflict. Wanting to support Ming Shuzhen’s ideas for encouraging kids to read, she planned to visit the Book House early to assess the situation.

After breakfast at the hotel, Ming Shuzhen rode with Qian Duoduo and the others to the Book House.

Today, the Book House was lively, with several grandmas invited by Liu Wenjing.

These were the same grandmas from yesterday’s workshop, skilled in tie-dye, assisting with media shoots.

Liu Wenjing had invited them at Ming Shuyan’s suggestion.

Rising early, Ming Shuyan researched online, refining ideas for the courtyard’s soil.

Balancing her meeting, she discussed feasibility with Liu Wenjing.

Both efficient, they quickly settled on an idea: mud dyeing.

The courtyard had plenty of clean soil.

Mud dyeing was simple for kids, and finished pieces could hang on the Book House’s reading area walls.

Inspired by the grandmas’ tie-dye, it fit the village’s Dai majority, whose ethnic patterns—like moon or butterfly motifs—were often dyed onto cotton.

Since the village was promoting intangible heritage, these patterns could amplify publicity.

So, Liu Wenjing invited the grandmas to guide students in drawing patterns.

Seeing Ming Shuzhen arrive, Ming Shuyan set down her cotton cloth. “Want to try?”

“What’s this?” Ming Shuzhen, curious, leaned closer.

Qian Duoduo, having tried tie-dye yesterday, knew they were dyeing but saw no dye vats.

Ming Shuyan clarified, “Mud dyeing. Like tie-dye, but using soil and water, with random patterns, not as intricate.”

Ming Shuzhen got it.

She glanced over. “For the kids?”

“Yup,” Ming Shuyan nodded. “I talked with Village Head Liu. We’ll split the courtyard: one part for planting, as you suggested, with seeds for kids. Those uninterested can mud dye here, and their work can hang in the Book House for a sense of achievement.”

“Plus, with the heritage application, the grandmas teaching patterns doubles as promotion.”

Ming Shuzhen nodded, impressed.

“One more thing for you,” Ming Shuyan said, noting her approval, feeling she’d done right.

“What?”

“Hm…” Ming Shuyan paused. “Come inside.”

Ming Shuzhen followed her into the Book House.

It looked the same as yesterday, but closer inspection revealed stickers on the shelves—yesterday’s stationery store haul.

“I wrote some; left the rest for you.”

Ming Shuzhen examined the stickers.

“Learning without thought is labor lost; thought without learning is perilous.” “Books are the ladder of human progress.” “Read for the rise of China.” “Read a book a hundred times, its meaning reveals itself.”

Ming Shuzhen chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Too formal, like this Book House—too serious.”

“That’s why I left them for you,” Ming Shuyan teased, glaring.

Today, no earrings, hair pinned up, wearing work pants—a crisp, strong vibe.

Ming Shuzhen hummed, staring at her. “Thanks.”

“No need. It’s everyone’s project,” Ming Shuyan said, slightly awkward from the praise.

Hearing “everyone,” Ming Shuzhen smiled, then recalled calling her selfish and cold yesterday, realizing her view was too narrow.

So she added, “It’s everyone’s, but still, thank you.”

Ming Shuyan didn’t brush it off, her eyes gleaming softly.

At the table, Ming Shuzhen grabbed a green marker from their haul.

Picking a shaped sticker, she wrote: “Books want to be seen—flip through us!”

She grinned widely.

“Don’t fear damaging us; let us into your world.”

“This Book House is for you—don’t be shy, you’re the hosts.”

On each sticker, she drew cartoon patterns.

Her handwriting and drawings were lovely—cats, dogs, whales in simple strokes.

Soon, she had a thick stack. Ming Shuyan stood by, sticking them on the shelves.

Running low on ideas, Ming Shuzhen searched online for quotes suited to the kids’ mindset.

“See others’ doubting eyes as ghost lights, boldly walk your night path.”

“Ride the wind, soar the skies, gaze down at rivers and mountains.”

“No flower starts as a flower.”

Ming Shuyan, watching, recalled high school literature classes, copying inspiring quotes.

Those words, once pushing her forward, now resurfaced, tied to radio station memories.

She’d long known her family didn’t love her, nor did she seek it, mechanically studying and doing homework.

Her family wasn’t poor, nor needed her to prove anything with degrees. Friendless, with cold parents and teachers preaching study, it was her only task.

Her teacher, praising her Mandarin and voice, sent her to the radio station.

Those days buried in books, her voice through the microphone’s static, now felt ancient, embodied in these stickers.

Ming Shuzhen’s handwriting was meticulous, each stroke precise.

For a moment, Ming Shuyan drifted, recalling peering out the radio room window.

That happy girl from then stood before her now.

Like her writing, she’d grown precise and complete.

Raised well, she stood tall and graceful.

Her eyes, still large and blinking, were like clear ponds, pure and lovely.

Ming Shuyan, gazing into them, felt a deepening possessiveness.

Who would this wonderful person marry, stand beside?

Whoever it was, Ming Shuyan would be insanely jealous, endlessly worried, fearing they’d fail those eyes, that tears would fill them.

She clenched her fists, aware of her feelings, then despised herself.

Ming Shuzhen saw her as a friend, yet here she was, thinking vile thoughts.

As she spiraled, Ming Shuzhen finished her stickers.

“Boss, why’d you zone out?” she called.

Ming Shuyan snapped back, “Oh,” changing the subject. “I found some soft music on the way. Want to hear?”

Yesterday’s suggestion to play music had stuck.

She pulled up her playlist and played it.

“Haven’t shown Liu yet, but I think it’s fine.”

“Mm,” Ming Shuzhen leaned in, listening. “Not letting kids pick songs is a shame, but I didn’t think it through. If they chose noisy ones, playing them disrupts reading; not playing them might upset them, thinking we favor others’ picks.”

“They’re young but sensitive,” she added, smiling, recalling childhood. “Like nap time in school—fighting over who the teacher soothed first.”

Ming Shuyan, lacking such memories, mirrored her smile, pulling back.

—

The Book House was large, so the four split into groups, each handling a designated area.

Following Ming Shuyan’s plan and Team One’s prep, they started with the walls.

Ming Shuzhen used a crack width tester, inserting the probe to measure.

Liu Wenjing was with them, but soon left to handle village disputes—a dog scaring someone’s hen into not laying eggs.

Watching her rush off, Ming Shuzhen said to Qian Duoduo, “Village Head Liu’s so busy.”

“Yeah,” Qian Duoduo, having heard the grandmas’ complaints, joked, “That hen not laying—maybe it’s just old, blaming the dog.”

Ming Shuzhen laughed. “Liu’s so efficient, bustling around—her name doesn’t match.”

Qian Duoduo chuckled, recalling other “Wenjings” who weren’t quiet.

They chatted, hands steady on the crack width tester.

As Ming Shuyan suspected, Team One’s prior inspection was one wall test short of a full report.

Xu Bao’s claim of another company handling it suggested something fishy.

The tester’s screen showed a crack’s shape, not wide.

Red Brick’s advanced device auto-detected crack outlines and calculated widths.

Ming Shuzhen swiped right to save, noting the crack’s location.