Chapter 7
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Due to the heavy rain, they returned to the company to shoot indoors.
Duan Qingshen’s shoes had been soaked through earlier and were unusable; he couldn’t wear flip-flops while driving, so Liang Yuanxing took the wheel since his shoes remained dry.
While Liang Yuanxing drove, Duan Qingshen sat silently in the front passenger seat. Perhaps the earlier shoot had drained him mentally—Liang Yuanxing noticed but didn’t ask.
He was someone sensitive to subtle emotions yet disciplined enough not to pry.
They followed the wedding company’s vehicle to their location. Indoor photography wasn’t Duan Qingshen’s forte, so he chose to highlight close-ups and the play of light instead. The shoot proceeded smoothly. When Jiang Yu went to remove her makeup, Zeng Xiaoyang began negotiating compensation with the wedding company.
A man who looked about thirty-five or thirty-six, presumably the person in charge, came out to confront Zeng Xiaoyang. He glanced over at Duan Qingshen, noting the wet pant legs and flip-flops, then looked at Liang Yuanxing, who resembled a fresh intern. His opening words were, “Oh, Boss Zeng, why did you just randomly hire a photographer? Their charges might not even be standardized…”
Zeng Xiaoyang, tall and burly, didn’t mince words: “Enough talk. Just pay according to your price list.”
Liang Yuanxing glanced at Duan Qingshen. The two of them sat on sofas in the wedding company’s lobby, while Zeng Xiaoyang and the man faced each other in the middle of the hall, behind them a wall adorned with fake roses arranged in the shape of a heart, with the big letters “XXX Wedding” hanging in the center.
The scene was absurd. Liang Yuanxing barely suppressed a smile and whispered, “Our outfits might just be the reason they’re trying to haggle.”
Duan Qingshen looked at him: “Flip-flops from a scenic spot—they’re expensive. They should raise the price.”
“...” Liang Yuanxing fell silent.
Sure enough, the wedding man said, “Hey, Brother Zeng, if you hired the photographer yourself, and we’re covering the shooting and makeup costs, that’s fine. After all, it’s our photographer who didn’t meet your expectations. But you can’t just... hire some wild photographer without any sample photos, right?”
His voice was loud, and the hall was small, so everyone heard clearly.
Liang Yuanxing suddenly stood up but was pushed back down by Duan Qingshen.
“Why are you stopping me?” Liang Yuanxing asked, surprised. “He actually looks down on you!”
“Are you planning to twist his head off?” Duan Qingshen sighed. “Sit down. I’ll go over.”
Liang Yuanxing stood up again but grabbed Duan Qingshen’s wrist to pull him back: “You sit. I’ll go. Let the assistant handle this.”
Duan Qingshen, caught off guard and still in flip-flops, nearly stumbled.
He steadied himself and turned back: “Good thing I didn’t fall into your arms. Otherwise, I really would have left this to you.”
Liang Yuanxing realized this and released him. As soon as he did, Duan Qingshen walked toward the center of the hall, and Liang Yuanxing hurried after him.
“Hello,” Duan Qingshen said, “Sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what the issue is with the photos?”
The wedding company boss was momentarily stunned: “The... photos?”
Duan Qingshen stood tall at 186 cm, with dark eyes that gave him a somewhat fierce look when expressionless—not menacing, just serious. The boss scrutinized him again and asked, “What about the photos?”
Duan Qingshen sighed briefly: “I’m asking if your dissatisfaction is because of the photos.”
“Oh, I...” the boss hesitated.
“You haven’t even seen the photos but have already made a judgment,” Duan Qingshen said calmly. “It’s not too late to negotiate after you’ve looked.”
Near the entrance of the hall was the wedding company’s front desk with a computer. Liang Yuanxing gestured toward the camera and asked, “Shall we take a look?”
It was reasonable. Whether the wedding company distrusted outside photographers or simply wanted to haggle, they needed to see the work first—whether or not they understood it. Without viewing the photos, it was just unreasonable troublemaking.
Liang Yuanxing efficiently removed the memory card, and the boss could only nod.
The boss took the card, and the group moved to the front desk. Fortunately, the front desk staff were busy, so no one witnessed the boss fumbling twice trying to plug the USB in, growing somewhat frustrated.
“Xingxing,” Duan Qingshen pointed.
The boss thought he was being mocked and about to snap, but Liang Yuanxing intervened: “Xingxing is me. Please hand it over to me.”
Liang Yuanxing took the card reader, connected it, and the computer popped up a dialog box.
The boss was silent as Liang Yuanxing opened the photo of the black tulle dress in a flash of lightning: “No post-processing, no cropping, straight-out original.”
The computer screen at the front desk was a large curved display, making the photo even more striking: a black swan on a rocky beach just before a thunderstorm.
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The composition, the play of light and shadow, and the sheer coincidence gifted by nature—they exchanged a glance.
Humans are “first glance” creatures. Most ordinary people can’t hide their initial reactions—a gasp, a frown, or a speechless look. Such instinctive responses are hard to conceal without special training.
The boss clearly had no such training.
He even blurted out, “Holy crap.”
That exclamation quietly delighted Zeng Xiaoyang and Liang Yuanxing, especially Zeng Xiaoyang, who patted the boss’s back with a smile: “Don’t underestimate southerners in flip-flops.”
Liang Yuanxing and Duan Qingshen raised one eyebrow in sync. Liang Yuanxing feigned a cough: “Don’t just insult people, say something else.”
The wedding boss couldn’t lie with open eyes. He admitted to initially looking down on the whole thing, even suspecting Zeng Xiaoyang had just called in a friend to rip him off. After viewing all the photos, he asked directly, “Are you interested in working with us as a photographer?”
Liang Yuanxing felt a chill and immediately glanced at Duan Qingshen. Zeng Xiaoyang, who had stayed silent, also looked to him.
Duan Qingshen replied, “No, thank you.”
Liang Yuanxing breathed a sigh of relief; Zeng Xiaoyang couldn’t resist clicking his tongue.
Just then, Jiang Yu finished removing her makeup and hair accessories and came out, dressed in her own clothes. Seeing the group of people gathered at the front desk with varied expressions, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Why don’t you stay?” Zeng Xiaoyang asked.
They found a nearby café to sit down. Jiang Yu inquired about the situation, and Zeng Xiaoyang recounted what had happened in the wedding company’s lobby. She paused mid-bite, then looked at Duan Qingshen.
Obviously, Jiang Yu knew about Duan Qingshen from Zeng Xiaoyang—clearly, she knew far more than Liang Yuanxing.
“I’m not good at portrait photography,” Duan Qingshen said casually. “That set wasn’t suitable for traditional wedding photos either. Only Yu didn’t mind.”
“Come on,” Jiang Yu said, “You’ve never been married. Wedding photos nowadays aren’t what you imagine. And besides, didn’t they say you and Xingxing both got paid?”
“Xingxing has other things to do later,” Duan Qingshen replied.
Outside, the rain gradually stopped. Water still trickled down the café’s glass windows. The weather was curious—sunlight appeared just minutes after the rain ceased. Liang Yuanxing stared at the coffee in front of him, sunlight catching the latte art perfectly.
“Xingxing?”
Liang Yuanxing looked up, searching for who called him.
“Here.” Duan Qingshen, sitting beside him, gave a small wave. “Can you see me?”
“I was distracted,” Liang Yuanxing said. “Why did you call me?”
“Just asking if you want to join the wedding pickup tomorrow morning,” Zeng Xiaoyang said. “It’s a civilized wedding pickup—lots of fun and red envelopes, but you have to get up really early, like, super early.”
Liang Yuanxing glanced at Duan Qingshen.
Jiang Yu smiled wryly: “Why are you looking at him?”
He didn’t know why he was looking at Duan Qingshen; this wasn’t something that needed his approval. They called the boss, but there was no contract, not even a verbal agreement.
“Are you going?” Liang Yuanxing asked him.
“I can’t get up that early,” Duan Qingshen said.
“How early?” Liang Yuanxing asked again.
“About the time you’re getting ready to sleep, they’ll be starting the wedding pickup,” Duan Qingshen said, sipping his coffee as he looked at him.
At that moment, Jiang Yu’s phone rang. The café’s aisles were narrow, so she answered right there—some work-related matters. Liang Yuanxing held his coffee cup and glanced sideways.
Duan Qingshen was straightforward: “Why don’t we head back to the hotel now and start editing?”
“Mm-hmm.” Liang Yuanxing nodded vigorously.
It wasn’t that he disliked Zeng Xiaoyang or Jiang Yu or felt uncomfortable sitting together drinking coffee; he just woke up early and was now exhausted.
Editing photos was a perfect excuse. These images needed to be ready for the wedding screening the next day—better to finish and organize them early to send to the wedding company.
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“Heading out first,” Duan Qingshen stood up and waved at Jiang Yu, who was still on the phone.
“Alright, go ahead,” Zeng Xiaoyang said. “Drive carefully.”
Liang Yuanxing, utterly tired, fell asleep in the front passenger seat.
When the car entered the hotel’s underground parking, a speed bump jolted him awake. Duan Qingshen looked over and said, “Go up and get some rest first. I’ll crop the photos. When I’m done, you can edit.”
“Okay.” Liang Yuanxing nodded.
But after going upstairs to the room, he didn’t sleep. He took a shower to wake himself up and sat beside Duan Qingshen, watching him crop the images. Duan Qingshen had just finished showering too—he’d been soaked in the rain and had stood in the icy seawater for a long time. Using his own laptop, he struggled twice to insert the card before it fit.
Liang Yuanxing now understood why he’d asked him to insert the card reader at the wedding company earlier. This guy was a USB nemesis.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Duan Qingshen asked again, plugging in the mouse with some difficulty.
“Not yet. Showering made me feel a bit more awake,” Liang Yuanxing said, charging the camera battery. “I want to see how you crop.”
Cropping was a crucial part of photographic aesthetics, and Duan Qingshen agreed. He first moved the initial photos taken in the seawater into a private folder, then began importing the others.
They sat at the dining table in the suite’s living room. Slowly, Liang Yuanxing leaned forward, resting his chin on his arm.
“Won’t you keep this part?” Liang Yuanxing pointed to some overhanging branches on the left side of the frame, which he found quite pleasing.
Duan Qingshen shook his head: “Meaningless foreground.”
“Too close?”
“In front of the subject,” Duan Qingshen said. “When you photograph people in the future, always make the subject your reference point when deciding what to include or exclude.”
“Oh…”
The clicking of the mouse mixed with the laptop’s humming, plus the fact that he happened to be leaning against the warm air vent after getting wet and showering, made him drowsy.
His vision blurred gradually, his hearing faded.
Combined with Duan Qingshen’s gentle voice answering his questions in the quiet room, he was startled when he woke up again.
He rarely fell asleep so quickly and slept so deeply.
Upon waking, he found a large sweatshirt draped over his shoulders, the laptop already closed beside him. Outside the hotel window was a deep orange sunset.
The window’s opening was limited, and Duan Qingshen’s tripod stood by the window, barely wide enough for the lens. Liang Yuanxing heard a few shutter clicks. When he stood up, the chair creaked. Duan Qingshen turned and caught his gaze unexpectedly.
Liang Yuanxing didn’t want Duan Qingshen to stay here—not because the place was bad, but because he wished for him to return to that fiery land and capture the desert sunset, rather than trapping his lens through the narrow window gap of a high-rise, shooting the thin city sunset.
“What’s wrong with you?” Duan Qingshen asked. “You’ve been daydreaming all day. I thought you were just tired this morning, but even after sleeping, you’re still spaced out.”
He hesitated, cautious about speaking too much between them, then smiled: “Got up too early. Haven’t recovered yet.”
Duan Qingshen closed the window as the sunset faded from the sky. He took the camera off the tripod, looked down at the screen, and asked calmly, “I get the feeling you’ve been holding back a lot today. Am I imagining it?”
“Probably not.” Liang Yuanxing glanced down at the sweatshirt.
A simple motion of lowering and then raising his head transformed him from hesitant to resolute. This motorcyclist seven years his junior seemed like a different person after waking from his nap.
“Then speak,” Duan Qingshen said, closing the window.
Then Liang Yuanxing said something Duan Qingshen would remember for many years to come.
“No one here understands you. You have to come with me.”