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Shan Fang applied to a university in Oregon after high‑school graduation and was admitted to its journalism program. By coincidence, Bian Jun also got into the same school, which meant Qiu Lin would seize every chance to come see her.

Shan attended university for one year before choosing to take time off school. She borrowed money from several older relatives and returned to China alone. During her two‑year stay, she first lived for a while in her ancestral home in Shaanxi, then travelled across the country collecting oral‑history testimonies.

In the rebellious phase in the years just before high‑school graduation, Shan Fang had found something that truly interested her: photography, listening to people’s stories and documenting them. Photographs preserved fragments of the real world; oral histories preserved the humanity of real people. These warm, genuine memories taught her that her existence held value in itself, no utilitarian purpose required. She no longer relied on being needed to feel her own worth, nor did she depend on rigid plans to prove she was moving forward.

Human life unfolds by its own natural rhythms. What Shan Fang pursued was not merely observing and accepting the ways of the world, but a quest for an ultimate form of love. It sounds grand, yet in daily life it is simple: it could be an eighty‑year‑old grandfather recalling a train station from fifty years ago; or a fifty‑year‑old woman remembering a bowl of noodles her own mother made in her youth. This was the resolution to Shan Fang’s inner revolution — or more precisely, a state of release that no longer demanded right answers.

While travelling for interviews, Shan Fang kept up consistent physical training. As a lone woman staying in unfamiliar villages and strangers’ homes, she faced considerable risk and had to work harder for her own safety. Starting in her senior year of high school, she picked up the martial‑arts skills she had learned in childhood and trained in various combat disciplines, which would later prove invaluable.

After finishing her degree, Shan Fang did not become a conventional journalist. Instead, she turned to independent content creation. Her scope stretched far beyond China: she travelled villages and towns worldwide to record the fading voices of ordinary forgotten people, working at her own pace and in her own voice.

The early days of her venture were difficult. She once considered producing morally compromised yet viral content to raise startup funds. While she was torn, the already‑famous Bian Jun granted her an interview free of charge. This brought her substantial exposure. From there, Shan Fang’s account slowly gained traction.

方杉高中毕业后，申请了俄勒冈州的大学并顺利被录取为新闻系学生，巧合的是卞珺也申请的同一大学，这导致林秋一有空就找理由跑来找方杉。

方杉上了一年大学就休学了，她向几位长辈借了一笔钱，独自一人跑回中国。两年在中国的时光，她先是在陕西老家住了一段时间，然后一直坚持在全国各地收集口述史料。在高中毕业前几年的叛逆中，方杉找到了相对感兴趣的事儿，她喜欢摄影、听别人的故事并加以记录。拍下的照片留存真实的世界，口述的历史记住了真正的人类。那种饱含温暖与真情的记忆，使方杉感受到了自己的存在无需任何功利化的价值，她的存在本身就是意义。她不再靠“被需要”来确认自己的重量，也不再靠计划来证明自己在前进。人类的生命以它自身的规律延续。

而方杉正在做的，不仅是观天之道、执天之行，更是对终极之爱的探索。话听着很大，但落实在生活中其实相当简单：也许是八十岁的爷爷口中的五十年前的车站之别；又或许只是五十岁的母亲青葱岁月里的一碗她母亲煮好的面。这正是方杉一直在找的自我革命的解法。或许更准确的说，是一种不再需要正确答案的释然。

在四处探访的同时，方杉也在进行持续不断的身体锻炼。独身的女人在陌生的村落、借宿的人家，危险系数难以想象，为了安全她必须付出更多努力。从高三开始，方杉就捡起了小时候的武术，同时加练了各种各样格斗项目，事实证明，实在派上了很大用长。