Zhou Hanchen moved with the coiled tension of a spring about to release, stepping between the stern-faced official and Qinyu. His hand, calloused from years of labor, rested on the doorframe, a silent barrier. Clerk Zhao, a man in a crisp, slightly-too-tight grey suit, peered past him, his gaze sweeping over the modest home. The radio in his hand, a sleek, imported model with a polished wood casing, hummed with a faint, almost imperceptible warmth. “Zhou Hanchen, is it?” Clerk Zhao’s voice lost its booming quality, settling into a clipped, businesslike tone. “I was informed you were quite… elusive. A ghost, some might say, especially to those seeking your particular talents.” His eyes, sharp and intelligent, narrowed on Hanchen’s face. “You’ve been operating an unlicensed workshop, have you not? Without brigade oversight, peddling services for private gain.” Hanchen’s jaw tightened. He knew this accusation. He’d lived under the shadow of it for weeks. “Clerk Zhao, I merely mend what’s broken. It helps my neighbors, and I’ve never sought to undermine village production.” He kept his voice even, though a tremor of apprehension ran through him. Qinyu, from her position still half-reclined on the low bed, observed the scene with a detached fascination. Her ‘HP’ bar felt stable. The morning light was pleasant. The air, heavy and still, carried a faint, sweet scent of blooming jasmine from outside. She adjusted the pillow under her head, trying to get a better view without expending unnecessary ‘stamina.’ Clerk Zhao’s expression remained unreadable. He held up the radio. “This device… a marvel, truly. The internal components, the frequency modulation… I sent it to the region’s top electronics technician. He couldn’t even identify half the parts, let alone restore it to this pristine condition.” He gestured with the radio, not aggressively, but with a certain authoritative flourish. “Your work, I presume?” Hanchen hesitated, then nodded. “It is.” “Good. Excellent, in fact.” Clerk Zhao’s face finally broke into something resembling a smile, though it was more of a practiced baring of teeth. “The Industry and Commerce agency has an… issue. Our agricultural machinery, our sector's critical communication networks—they’re failing. Tractors break down. Radios go silent. We’re losing harvest yield, losing connection with provincial directives. The province has allocated a significant budget for maintenance. We need a capable mechanic. Urgently.” Hanchen blinked. This was not the arrest he’d anticipated. He was accustomed to the commune’s petty squabbles, the sting of Rulan’s jealousy. This was a different beast entirely, sleek and formidable. “You… you want me to work for your office?” “Not just work, Zhou Hanchen,” Clerk Zhao declared, pushing past Hanchen to take a step further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the organized clutter of tools. “We want you to head the district’s restoration project. We’re offering a standing contract, a monthly stipend far exceeding any work points you could earn, plus a percentage of savings from your overhauls. Your services will be official, sanctioned, and vital to regional growth.” Qinyu’s ears perked up. A stipend? A percentage? This sounded significantly better than scrabbling for work points. She imagined the pile of shiny yuan, stacked neatly, ensuring her ‘HP’ remained perpetually full. This ‘survival game’ was certainly taking an interesting turn. Just then, the outer door burst open with a dramatic creak. Rulan stood there, disheveled, her eyes blazing with a familiar fury. She must have been lurking nearby, waiting for the ‘justice’ she so craved. Behind her, her sheepish companion hovered awkwardly. “There! There he is!” Rulan shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Hanchen. “And Fang Qinyu, that lazy harlot! Clerk Zhao, you mustn’t be fooled! This man is a capitalist exploiter, and she… she is nothing but a parasite, attempting to steal state funds!” She strode into the room, her voice rising to a fever pitch. “I am the true visionary! I saw the need for these overhauls! I *tried* to convince Guozhi to invest! They have stolen my ideas, my destiny! She only lies in bed, doing nothing, manipulating him with her false weakness!” Clerk Zhao, who had been about to present Hanchen with a roll of schematics, paused, his brow furrowed. He turned to Rulan, his smile vanishing entirely. “And who, may I ask, are you, disrupting an official Bureau meeting?” “I am Fang Rulan!” she announced, puffing out her chest. “The future wife of the Production Brigade's finest prospect! I am the one who truly understands the needs of the people, the one who should be directing these programs!” She cast a venomous glance at Qinyu, still lounging on the bed. “She is a fraud, a burden! She contributes nothing!” Qinyu, finding Rulan’s theatrics mildly entertaining, stretched languidly. The sunlight felt warm on her face. She noticed Clerk Zhao had unrolled a large, detailed blueprint of what looked like a communication relay on Hanchen’s small, rickety table. Her eyes idly scanned the jumble of lines and symbols. Something clicked, a phrase from one of her beloved sci-fi radio dramas, a throwaway line about ‘intermittent current flux due to misaligned phase converters.’ Without moving from her comfortable perch, Qinyu drawled, “It looks like you’ve got a tricky bit of ‘intermittent current flux’ in that ‘phase converter array’ near the primary power conduit, Comrade Clerk. If you don’t realign the ‘magnetic resonance dampeners,’ you’ll lose your signal integrity after a few months. That’s probably why your old radios kept failing, even after simple patch jobs.” She gestured vaguely with her hand, a graceful, unhurried motion. Absolute silence descended upon the room. Rulan’s mouth hung open, her rant forgotten. Her partner looked utterly bewildered. Hanchen, who knew Qinyu’s ‘game’ was just a misunderstood radio show, merely looked on with a mixture of amusement and profound adoration, a faint blush spreading across his ears. But Clerk Zhao, who had been dismissive of Rulan, stared at Qinyu, his jaw dropping in pure shock. He snatched up the blueprint, his gaze darting from the diagram to Qinyu’s relaxed face. “Intermittent current flux… phase converter array… magnetic resonance dampeners…” He muttered the terms, his finger tracing a section of the diagram. “By the spirits! That’s precisely the issue our provincial engineers couldn’t pinpoint! They kept saying it was a fundamental design flaw, not a repairable element! How… how could you possibly know that?” Qinyu blinked. “Oh, it’s quite simple. Just listen to the… uh… ‘broadcast frequencies.’ They always mention it.” She stifled a yawn. “The ‘server uptime’ depends on it, you see. Can’t have your ‘HP’ dropping because of bad reception.” Clerk Zhao stared at her, his mind clearly reeling. He was a man of logic, a man who dealt in facts and figures, and this young woman, languishing on a bed, had just solved a problem that stumped the county’s elite. He looked at Hanchen, then back at Qinyu, a new, fierce light in his eyes. He folded the paper in his hand, his decision made. “Zhou Hanchen, your technical skill is undeniable. But it’s clear the true brains, the theoretical understanding, the *vision* for this machinery, lies with your wife, Fang Qinyu!” He turned to Qinyu, his voice urgent. “Sister Qinyu, our agency needs you. We require your unique insights, your extraordinary grasp of advanced electronics. I am formally offering you a position as Head Consultant for the Commerce board’s technical team. We will provide a relocation allowance, urban housing, and a salary befitting your genius.” Qinyu sat bolt upright, genuine surprise lighting her face. Relocation? To the county city? All without lifting a single finger? This was beyond her wildest, laziest dreams. The ‘survival game’ was rewarding her for doing absolutely nothing! Clerk Zhao, mistaking her hesitation for reluctance, pressed on, his voice hardening with renewed resolve. “Understand this. Zhou Hanchen’s contract, the entire technical program… it all hinges on your participation. If the ‘brains’ of this operation refuses to relocate and lead, then I’m afraid the entire deal is off, and we will have to seek a less… demanding solution for our local infrastructure. Your presence is non-negotiable.”

The Accidental Consultant