As the evening sun dipped behind the rice fields, the village square buzzed with the usual mix of gossip, loud laughter, and old grannies squabbling over whose grandson had the best nose. But tonight, the usual chaos was interrupted by an unexpected sight—Old Man Tie, the grumpy blacksmith, strutting into the center like he had just forged the Dragon Emperor's sword himself.
In his calloused hands, he held… a fan.
Yes, a bamboo fan.
But not just any fan.
"This," he declared, raising it high like a divine relic, "is no ordinary fan! It blows air colder than the mountain springs!"
The villagers blinked.
"Did he finally lose his mind from the forge heat?" someone whispered.
But then, he waved it.
A breeze cooler than a streamside cave on a full moon night danced across the villagers' sweaty faces.
Silence fell.
Then chaos.
"Eh?! It's true!"
"Gods above, it's like winter wind!"
"Did you steal a cloud, Old Tie?!"
"No no," he puffed out his chest. "This was made by none other than… Lin Xiao."
Dead silence again.
Then—
"WHO?"
"You mean that Lin Xiao? The rice moocher?"
"The one whose only talent is being devastatingly good-looking and equally lazy?"
"The one whose daily exercise is flirting with Chunhua at the well and escaping from Auntie Ma's flying slippers?"
Old Man Tie nodded proudly. "Yes, that one."
Everyone collectively gasped as if they'd seen a pig fly while reciting poetry.
Meanwhile, standing at the edge of the crowd, Chunhua felt her heart skip a beat—and not the good kind. Her beautiful brows twitched.
He made something for Ling'er?
He gave that fan to her?
And he never made anything for me except excuses and headaches?
That night, she lay in bed with her cheeks puffed like steamed buns, hugging her pillow and glaring at the moon like it owed her rice.
Before the rooster could announce a new day—or even remember how to crow—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Lin Xiao jolted awake, tangled in his thin summer blanket like a dumpling wrapper. He rubbed his eyes, still half in dreamland, thinking maybe someone was hammering outside.
BOOM! BOOM!
Nope. That was his door.
He stumbled over and cracked it open.
There stood Chunhua.
Hair in a messy braid. Eyes glowing with the fury of a thousand jealous fairies. Lips pressed into a thin line. A bowl in one hand, and judgment in the other.
Lin Xiao took one look at her and yelped internally.
If eyes could kill, I would've died. Not once. Not twice. But at least eighteen times. One for each ancestor she's probably cursing right now.
"G-Good morning, Chunhua…" he managed, trying to smile.
Chunhua didn't blink. "Good morning? It's barely dawn. And you—" she jabbed a finger at his chest— "you! You gave Ling'er a fan?"
Lin Xiao's back straightened. "I… I mean… she looked hot!"
Wrong answer, fool!
Chunhua's eyes narrowed further, as if preparing to unlock some ancient palm strike technique.
"Not like that!" he corrected quickly. "I mean! The weather! The weather was hot!"
She crossed her arms. The silence grew so tense, even mosquitoes didn't dare buzz.
In a flash of self-preservation and pure romantic instinct, Lin Xiao grabbed her wrist gently, pulled her inside, and said, "Wait wait! Don't be mad—I was just about to make one for you too! A better one! Cooler. Bigger. Fan-ier!"
Chunhua blinked.
"…Really?"
"Of course!" he nodded rapidly. "A fan so cool, even the heavens will want one."
She sniffed, trying to stay angry. "Hmph. It better be."
Chunhua softened just a little. "But if you really make me a better fan, I'll forgive you. Maybe."
Lin Xiao gave her his best charming smile. "Deal."
"And why was Ling'er blushing all the way home yesterday?" she muttered under her breath.
Lin Xiao pretended not to hear, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.
As soon as Chunhua stormed out of the house, the air felt a little lighter—though Lin Xiao suspected that might just be his survival instincts calming down after brushing death.
He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, and let out a long sigh. "Sigh… Women are so scary when they're jealous. But also… kinda cute."
After a moment of enjoying the silence, he strolled back into the house and flopped lazily onto the bamboo bed.
"Alright, Lin Xiao, time to think seriously," he said aloud, staring at the ceiling as if it could drop ideas on him. "That fan thing… it worked. I actually used my talent properly for the first time. Not bad, eh?"
He grinned smugly for a second, but then his stomach growled.
"…But what's the use of invention without income?"
He rolled over, resting his chin on his hand and narrowing his eyes.
"How do I turn this into money… hmm…"
He imagined opening a store in the town market. Lin Xiao's Mystical Cooling Devices! Only five copper coins each! Guaranteed to make any maiden say "It's so cool~"
He even imagined Ling'er standing at the booth, fluttering her eyelashes, drawing in customers.
Then he imagined Chunhua showing up and chasing the customers away.
"…Yeah no, not happening."
Then, a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes.
"What if… I just become a gigolo instead?"
He sat up dramatically, eyes gleaming with inspiration. "I'm handsome. I'm charming. The village chief's daughter always blushes when I walk by…"
He imagined himself lounging under a silk canopy, being hand-fed grapes by three adoring village beauties.
But then—
He also imagined the village chief chasing him with a sword in one hand and a pig-killing cleaver in the other.
"…Nope. Bad idea. That's a shortcut to becoming a cripple."
He plopped back down on the bed and sighed again, more dramatically this time.
"So what do I do? Make more fans? Sell them? Invent other things? Make a fortune and retire young with a house full of—"
He paused.
"No. Focus."
He sat up, crossed his legs in a meditative pose, and furrowed his brows.
"Maybe… I need a plan. A proper one. Not involving gigolo fantasies or running from angry fathers."
Thus began Lin Xiao's deep contemplation of the future—half-serious, half-silly, but completely him.