Chen Luzhou wrote quite a few poems when he was young. If Zhu Yangqi were here right now, he would surely recite Chen’s most famous one, written when he was eight years old:
You’re at the horizon, you’re before my eyes,
You seem to be right by my side…
Even now, when Chinese teachers run into him on the street, their first words are always, “Oh, Chen the great poet! How are you? Published any books yet?”
Chen Luzhou considered himself a person with plenty of embarrassing moments in his past. From childhood to adulthood, he felt he hadn’t done many truly impressive things. Zhu Yangqi thought he was being falsely modest, but he wasn’t. He genuinely didn’t think he was particularly outstanding in any way. Speaking of academic performance, even at the No. 1 High School, he was just average, failing to secure first place several times. Then there was that unexpected incident during the college entrance exam, which likely dashed any hopes of becoming the top scholar.
However, he believed his greatest strength lay in never admitting defeat and always remaining hopeful. If a wall collapsed, he would build a castle. If the sun disappeared, he would become the light. As the book said, he had clear love, direct dislike, sincere fondness, and the openness of standing under the sun, able to praise himself loudly without shame.
His heart was like steel, scorching hot with just a touch of sunlight.
But sometimes, it was enough to be a bit dramatic. If he continued, it would be on par with the cheesiness of saying, “I’m a passionate youth; if a vampire sucked my blood, it would burn their mouth.”
The photoshoot was progressing smoothly. The race car driver grudgingly admitted that Chen Luzhou’s shots were decent. He was indeed overly critical, and only Chen Luzhou bothered to deal with him. The other photographers in the team had already given up on him. Chen Luzhou was just being polite on the surface, exchanging a few courteous words. He didn’t have time to shoot anyway, especially since the studio would be dismantled tomorrow.
By the time he finished work, Xu Zhi had already started learning video editing with some of the editors nearby. Seeing her engrossed in a discussion with the instructor, Chen Luzhou didn’t call out to her. He casually grabbed a chair and sat down next to her to watch her learn.
“Generally, we use Premiere for this. Chen Luzhou uses FCP. Nowadays, many small video bloggers don’t use these professional tools; they use idiot-proof editing software. They don’t understand editing at all. True editing is very interesting. The purpose of editing is to handle transitions and camera movements, not just to string together a few video clips. If you want to learn, I can recommend some books.”
“Why does Chen Luzhou use FCP?” Xu Zhi asked.
The editing expert glanced at her, thinking to himself, “I’ve been explaining all this professional content to you, spitting out words left and right, and all you heard was ‘Chen Luzhou’?”
Xu Zhi was listening intently and hadn’t noticed that Chen Luzhou had returned. The group of onlookers in the editing studio didn’t bother to remind her either, all watching the young couple with amused expressions.
“It’s because of the different operating systems,” the editing expert replied, slightly irritated.
Xu Zhi sat next to the editing expert, listening in a daze. She let out an “Oh” without turning her head, seemingly lost in thought. Her hand reached back to grab the water bottle on Chen Luzhou’s desk.
Chen Luzhou was leaning back in his chair. Seeing her playing blind man’s buff, he decided to tease her a bit. With a mischievous grin, he moved the water bottle away. Xu Zhi, not expecting to grasp at thin air, instinctively turned her head and caught a glimpse of a familiar dark figure. “You’re back?” she asked.
“Chen, handsome guy!” someone called out loudly from behind, probably about dismantling the editing studio. Chen Luzhou was about to ask if she found editing interesting, but he stood up again, handing the water back to her. “Wait for me,” he said.
Shortly after Chen Luzhou left, Cai Yingying and Feng Jin returned with cameras. Cai Yingying had gotten some good shots; her small face was flushed with excitement. “Xu Zhi, the sunset over there is super beautiful. Do you want to go take a picture?”
Feng Jin, exhausted from being dragged around by her, collapsed into Chen Luzhou’s recently vacated seat like a puddle of mud. “I’m not going. If you two want to take pictures, go by yourselves. I’m dead tired. Chen Luzhou hasn’t finished yet?”
“He’s done, but someone called him away again,” Xu Zhi said, pointing with her eyes.
Feng Jin looked in the direction she indicated. Chen Luzhou, probably about 1.85 meters tall, nearly touched the ceiling with his head. His figure stood out wherever he was. He was talking to a thin, young man opposite him. They were discussing something, and Chen Luzhou lowered his head with a smile, taking out his phone to probably add the man on WeChat. How to put it? This kind of demeanor was indeed attractive. Feng Jin couldn’t help but wonder which window God had closed for Chen Luzhou.
Feng Jin shook his head and said to Xu Zhi, “Busy man, huh? I never thought our Qingyi was so small. So, I guess you know Zhu Yangqi too?”
Xu Zhi nodded, “Yes, I do.”
“So we’re all acquainted,” Feng Jin sighed. He had shown off to the wrong crowd; who would have thought Xu Zhi was so familiar with Chen Luzhou? “I’m embarrassed. Remember that friend I mentioned earlier whose photo made it to National Geographic? That was Chen Luzhou. But you probably know how amazing he is already since you’re all so close. And the handsome guy who corrected Cai Yingying’s aesthetics was him too, right?”
Xu Zhi made a sound of agreement, “But we’re not that close.”
She probably didn’t know as much as Feng Jin did. They weren’t really that familiar; Chen Luzhou rarely talked about himself. If Feng Jin hadn’t mentioned it, Xu Zhi wouldn’t have guessed it was him.
Feng Jin was about to say something when Cai Yingying called out, “Chen Luzhou, when are we having dinner?”
Xu Zhi only then realized he had returned. His seat was occupied by Feng Jin, so she instinctively stood up, intending to give him her seat. Chen Luzhou ignored this, standing next to Feng Jin and packing up his computer and power strips. He spoke in a cool tone, head lowered, “This studio is being dismantled. You’ll come with me to eat in a bit.”
Just as he finished speaking, a female photographer came over with two boxed meals. “I’ve got my work meal and another sister’s. Why don’t you let these two have them first?”
Chen Luzhou was putting his computer in his bag and zipping it up. He looked up at her and asked, “Are you done with 4015?”
The female photographer put the boxed meals on the table and complained to him, “Not yet, we still have a few shots to make up. Yang Jie is about to lose it. Some guy is insisting on makeup, and now we’re trying to find a makeup artist for him. Oh, and Yang Jie wanted to ask about your drone model. She’s thinking of buying one for her husband.”
Chen Luzhou made a sound of acknowledgment. “I’ll send her the details on WeChat later.”
The female photographer lingered, looking at Chen Luzhou as if she had more to say.
Cai Yingying and Feng Jin exchanged glances. Something fishy was going on here. Could there be something between these two? Cai Yingying’s eyes were practically boring holes. So this was Chen Luzhou’s type? How to describe it… punk style, with a head full of braids, dark skin, very dramatic.
They might not have known, but Chen Luzhou had a pretty good guess about what she wanted. Usually, in the editing studio, people loved to gossip when they had nothing better to do. This female photographer was interested in women, and Chen Luzhou generally didn’t comment on these things, but he knew she seemed to have a girlfriend who had visited the set a couple of days ago.
He also guessed that she probably wanted Xu Zhi’s WeChat. He had just overheard her telling Yan Letong that the girl’s looks were considered top-tier in their circle, and when Chen Luzhou followed their gaze, he realized they were talking about Xu Zhi.
Before she could speak, Chen Luzhou quickly found an excuse. After all, even if she didn’t mind saying it openly, Chen Luzhou wasn’t comfortable exposing others in public. “I think Yang Jie was calling for you just now. It seemed urgent. Shouldn’t you go check?”
She had forgotten something. “Damn,” the female photographer cursed and ran off.
There was a small room on the second floor of the base with a small table set up. Chen Luzhou finished packing up and led them upstairs. Yan Letong had already placed the ordered takeout on the table. The work meals were subpar, and Chen Luzhou hadn’t intended for Xu Zhi to eat them. Noticing her recent increase in appetite, and with the addition of Feng Jin, this takeout order probably cost Chen Luzhou nearly half a day’s shooting pay. He was indeed not very well-off recently.
Even Madam Hui had stopped his card to force him to come home. He had never been frugal with money before and had never considered that he might need to be financially independent one day. Moreover, photography was an expensive hobby. So lately, there wasn’t much money in his account. But no matter what, he didn’t want Xu Zhi to eat the work meals with him.
Chen Luzhou didn’t understand what it meant to be truly familiar with someone. Was stargazing together not enough? Was drinking together not enough? Was bringing her to his work base still not enough? Did she think he did these things with just anyone?
Casually taking photos of her, staying up late drinking and talking, rushing to treat someone to a meal with just a WeChat message, bringing her to see his workplace – did she think these were trivial matters?
“Why aren’t you eating?” Xu Zhi asked obliviously.
Chen Luzhou leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. He looked at her for two or three seconds with an unyielding, proud demeanor, then calmly unwrapped the disposable chopsticks and silently began eating.
Chen Luzhou was angry. Only Xu Zhi could truly sense the undercurrent of emotions hidden in this man’s eyes. It was like a calm sea surface concealing turbulent waves beneath, full of both beauty and danger. The others remained oblivious.
“I just heard from Cai Yingying that you can ride a motorcycle, Xu Zhi?” Feng Jin tried to make conversation.
Cai Yingying immediately chimed in, her mouth still full, with a smug expression that said ‘You’ve asked the right person’: “Oh yes, she’s amazing at riding motorcycles. Do you know Fu Yu Mountain Villa near Mingling Mountain? There are often racing gangs up there at night. They’re all Xu Zhi’s underlings.”
Indeed, one takes on the color of one’s company. Cai Yingying’s skill at exaggeration was approaching that of Zhu Yangqi. Xu Zhi hadn’t realized before that she could boast like this. While it was true that Mingling Mountain’s winding roads attracted many motorcycle enthusiasts, Xu Zhi wanted to clarify that it was just a few rebellious kids playing around up there, hardly a “racing gang.”
Feng Jin seemed to believe it, wolfing down his food while saying, “Do you want to go down and join them later? Take a lap with them. I just heard the captain say they’re going to race. It’s bound to be exciting.”
As soon as Feng Jin finished speaking, a chorus of cheers and ear-splitting engine roars erupted from the racetrack below.
“Damn, it’s starting!” He hastily stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth, tossed his chopsticks on the table, grabbed his camera, and rushed out.
“I’m going to watch too!” Cai Yingying dropped her chopsticks and dashed after him.
Only the two of them remained in the small room. Xu Zhi looked around, realizing they were in an abandoned construction site. The windows weren’t sealed, leaving everything open to the setting sun outside. The wind rushed in, carrying the fresh scent of leaves, much cooler than downstairs.
Their dining table was just a plank supported by two paint buckets, making it very low. The plank barely reached Chen Luzhou’s knees, forcing him to hunch over while eating.
Xu Zhi watched him. Chen Luzhou had been quietly eating his food the whole time, occasionally glancing at his phone. Now that Cai Yingying and Feng Jin had left, he remained slumped in his chair, one hand holding his chopsticks resting on his knee, the other on his phone replying to messages, showing no intention of talking to her.
After silently eating a few bites, Xu Zhi reversed her chopsticks and used the clean end to place a piece of beef in his bowl.
Chen Luzhou looked up from his phone, glanced at her, then quickly returned his gaze to the screen, saying coldly, “Thanks.”
Xu Zhi said, “You should eat quickly before Cai Yingying and the others come back and snatch it all. Do you have any more shooting tonight?”
“No,” Chen Luzhou put down his phone, leaned forward, hunching over with his chopsticks in his bowl, continuing to eat without looking at her, “Did you see the WeChat message?”
Xu Zhi nodded, “Yes, it was inspiring. But you immediately recalled the second sentence? I didn’t catch what it said. I just saw something about whether the moon was full.”
“It was nothing important. Not related to you,” Chen Luzhou leaned back in his chair, putting down his chopsticks. He was full, and hadn’t eaten the beef Xu Zhi had given him, which lay lonely at the bottom of his bowl.
“Oh, okay,” Xu Zhi ate a couple more bites, then after swallowing, asked, “Do you want to go back together tomorrow? We’re thinking of hiring a car.”
“With Feng Jin?” Chen Luzhou was probably feeling stiff from hunching over while eating, so he was now slowly massaging one side of his neck, his tone steely: “We’ll see. Depends on what time I wake up.”
He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while and was planning to book a hotel room to catch up on rest.
Of course, Xu Zhi sensed that she might have offended him somehow. But she didn’t know exactly what she’d done wrong, and it felt odd to ask directly. Plus, the roar of engines from downstairs sounded like beasts howling in the night, pushing the race atmosphere to a fever pitch. Xu Zhi had to speak loudly for him to hear.
There was no door on the second floor, only two curtains large enough to provide cover. Chen Luzhou, probably finding the noise from downstairs too much, pulled the curtains closed and brought over two boards to completely block the drafty door and windows. The sound was immediately muffled downstairs, and suddenly it was so quiet that Xu Zhi could hear mosquitoes buzzing around her ears.
Once a space becomes enclosed and private, certain emotions tend to amplify. Nerves seem to become more sensitive. Chen Luzhou could hear his heartbeat quickening, like a deer running, like drums beating, like a boulder stirring up countless waves in the sea. He felt pathetic. Ever since meeting her, he’d become increasingly unlike himself, with nothing in his heart feeling quite right anymore.
He sat back down, his legs spread wide enough to encompass the table between them, along with her legs. He put the piece of beef she’d given him earlier into his mouth and looked at her directly, saying, “Are you close with Feng Jin?”
“Feng Jin?” Xu Zhi found this strange and also put a piece of beef in her mouth, “Not as close as with Zhu Yangqi.”
“Oh, I see. Close with Zhu Yangqi,” he found this both amusing and irritating, arrogantly nudging her foot lightly with his, putting on airs like a young master, “But not close with me, right?”
“When did I say I wasn’t close with you—”
Xu Zhi stopped mid-sentence, her chewing slowing down as her brain seemed to recall something. “Is this what you’re upset about?”
Xu Zhi was always direct. If we’re talking about being straightforward, she was even more so. She had pointed it out so directly. Sometimes people are like this – when they’re angry, they try every way to let the other person know, but when the other person realizes it, the anger suddenly doesn’t feel so justified anymore.
“Am I angry?” he asked.
“You were quite angry earlier when you were unwrapping the chopsticks. It was like you were trying to break my bones,” Xu Zhi described vividly as if his earlier anger was visible.
Chen Luzhou leaned forward, his appetite seemingly improved as he picked up another piece of beef and put it in his mouth. His chopstick etiquette was more proper than most people’s. Xu Zhi was about to compliment him on being the boy with the most standard chopstick technique she’d ever seen, when he pulled his long legs in a bit and looked at her frankly, not hiding anything: “A little bit, yeah. I feel like I’ve been completely open with you, but then you turn around and tell people we’re not close. It’s normal for me to be upset, right?”
His emotions were clear; he was an open and honest young man.
“I just felt that I didn’t know you very well, that’s all,” Xu Zhi even thought he was clean-cut, self-disciplined, intelligent, with a simple and clean social circle. Even with his college entrance exam setback, his future should still be limitless. Everyone should be full of expectations for him. “Those things Feng Jin mentioned, I’d never heard about them before. That’s why I felt like I didn’t know you.”
“Like what?” His attitude was one of getting to the bottom of things.
“He said your work has been published in many magazines, and that your Qinghai-Tibet Plateau footage was directly broadcast by the TV station using the original film.”
“And that’s what he thinks is impressive and makes you feel like you don’t know me? Getting published in magazines is nothing. Chen Xingqi made the newspaper when he ran away from home at eight. As for the broadcast, my mom works at the TV station. That time, their program had a last-minute gap, and one of their segments fell through. My mom used my footage to fill the slot.”
“…”
Chen Luzhou looked calmly into her eyes and added, “Oh, what I filmed was two Tibetan antelopes mating. Is that what you wanted to hear about?”
Xu Zhi: “…”
Outside, the cheers rose in waves, and the wind was howling. The boards seemed to be shaking, threatening to collapse at any moment. Xu Zhi sighed, seeming to resign herself. “How about I tell you a joke?”
Chen Luzhou asked directly: “To cheer me up?”
Xu Zhi: “I suppose so.”
He couldn’t help but act proud, thinking to himself, ‘Do you try to cheer up just anyone?’
He leaned back in his chair, silently watching Xu Zhi, his gaze casual but ambitious, like a heartless casino owner trying to cheat all the gamblers out of their chips.
Just as Xu Zhi was about to ask if he wanted to hear the joke or not, there was a “bang” behind her. Cai Yingying burst in, panting heavily, completely oblivious to the subtle, ambiguous atmosphere in the room. She grabbed Xu Zhi’s hand urgently and said, “Quick, quick! There’s prize money for the motorcycle race downstairs! Five thousand yuan!”
Xu Zhi stood up immediately, abandoning Chen Luzhou without hesitation: “Wait a moment.”
Chen Luzhou: “…”