Chapter Fifty-Three: Photography

After everyone had taken their seats, Huang Zejun felt something was off.

Jiang Lan was sitting next to him, but opposite her was Tang Zhichu; that was fine, and after a bit of adjustment, it wasn’t too uncomfortable. What struck him as odd was that Zhou Yun, who always liked sitting beside Jiang Lan, had suddenly chosen to sit with Chen Siyang. And what’s more, they acted as if they were old friends.

“Yangyang, I’ll put the rabbit heads next to you. I really like eating those…”
“Forget it, let me bring you a trash bin. Otherwise, the grease on the bones will get on your sleeves…”

The scene was peculiar. Even Huang Zejun could tell that before now, Zhou Yun and Chen Siyang didn’t get along. Why were they suddenly so close? Had he missed something?

He glanced at Tang Zhichu across the table, who looked utterly indifferent. Then he looked at Jiang Lan beside him; nothing seemed out of the ordinary there either.

Huang Zejun shook his head and decided to focus on his meal.

But Jiang Lan’s gaze flickered; Zhou Yun’s sudden change caught her off guard. Was the transformation in this person really so obvious and real?

Jiang Lan glanced at Tang Zhichu a few times, curious. He seemed unfazed by it all. Perhaps he had expected this outcome as well?

For Jiang Lan, agonizing over these details meant little, but she couldn’t help feeling a sense of wonder. She realized she had underestimated Zhou Yun, and reminded herself that this is what choice meant—there is always gain and loss.

Tang Zhichu, on the other hand, genuinely began to appreciate Zhou Yun. To be blunt, Zhou Yun’s approach was that of a true rascal—better than a hypocrite, and certainly preferable to a pushover.

Chen Siyang wasn’t quite used to Zhou Yun’s enthusiasm, but his attentions weren’t overbearing, and his gestures were just right.

By the end of the meal, Chen Siyang felt Zhou Yun wasn’t as annoying as she’d thought.

And so, Chen Siyang became the liveliest person at the table. She chatted with Zhou Yun, talked with Jiang Lan, and even included Huang Zejun in the conversation.

Tang Zhichu leaned back in his chair, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. Someone who had always been on the fringes of their little group was gradually taking center stage. This was one of Tang Zhichu’s pleasures.

If Chen Siyang herself were to notice, she’d realize she was growing more confident and more willing to express herself.

...

When he saw that everyone had nearly finished eating, Tang Zhichu stood up. “Don’t fight me for it today—I’ll clean up!”

Chen Siyang instinctively started to rise, but Tang Zhichu pressed her back into her seat. “I said I’ll do it. You all can go relax in the living room.”

Tang Zhichu’s intention was clear: he hoped Chen Siyang would seize the moment and fully break the ice. But what did the others think?

Chen Siyang felt the atmosphere today was wonderful—better than before, and the conversation was lively. Tang Zhichu wanted to clean up alone, perhaps because he sensed the good mood, or saw she was enjoying herself, and so wanted everyone to rest.

Zhou Yun snorted inwardly, thinking, “Of course, now that you’ve done something sneaky, you’re showing off.”

Jiang Lan stretched lazily, feeling it was only natural. She thought, “We had a date today, but you spent the whole date planning to bring food for another woman. That’s a bit of a blow, honestly—serves you right to do the chores.”

Huang Zejun gave Tang Zhichu a mental thumbs-up. No wonder he received three text messages—his awareness was impressive. If it were Yang Jiaxing, would he do the work himself and leave the three female guests together?

...

When Tang Zhichu said he’d do it himself, he meant it. He simply shooed them all out.

In the living room, they gathered together. Thanks to Tang Zhichu’s selfless effort, the atmosphere became even more harmonious. Zhou Yun, already lively by nature, suggested playing a game.

Laughter filled the living room and didn’t stop.

The next day, Tang Zhichu rose early. He talked about not wanting to exercise, but he knew full well how important it was for him.

At six o’clock, dressed in sportswear, he appeared on the boardwalk outside and began to jog.

He didn’t stop until seven-thirty, returning to the villa drenched in sweat.

He felt he could eat an entire cow.

In the kitchen, Chen Siyang was cooking noodles, using leftovers from last night’s meal as a topping.

Seeing Tang Zhichu come in, Chen Siyang smiled and asked, “What got into you?”

Tang Zhichu flexed his biceps and shook his head. “Too skinny. I need to put on at least twenty pounds, then train properly. Otherwise, my physique is too weak.”

Chen Siyang placed a bowl of noodles on the table. “Eat up. See if it’s bland—I didn’t add salt. I figured the topping was flavorful enough. But you really are too thin.”

Tang Zhichu didn’t stand on ceremony; he sat down and started eating.

Chen Siyang cooked herself a small bowl, no more than a fifth of Tang Zhichu’s portion.

“What are you eating!”

Chen Siyang pouted. “Don’t try to persuade me, I beg you—I’m already getting fat.”

Tang Zhichu shut his mouth.

Chen Siyang ate quickly, finished, then pushed her little bowl toward Tang Zhichu, squinting and smiling. “It’s all yours. See you tonight!”

With that, she dashed out.

Tang Zhichu knew she was busy—not only did she have her own classes, she also taught trainees. She was probably working on a script now, too.

At nine o’clock, Tang Zhichu found Huang Zejun.

...

Huang Zejun had thought Tang Zhichu was only joking about wanting to learn photography, but it turned out he was serious.

The two of them took a DSLR and a photo printer and headed out.

This put the staff in a dilemma.

Should they follow and film or not?

The cameraman hurriedly contacted the director.

None of the segments in the dating show were decided on the spot. For example, dates had to be reported to the production team in advance, with details of the location and activities. The team had to ensure there were no issues with shooting.

Tang Zhichu and Huang Zejun, armed with cameras, were technically not required to be filmed. But the cameraman felt it could be good material, and so contacted the director.

While the staff deliberated, Tang Zhichu and Huang Zejun were already out on the street.

“In my opinion, photography boils down to two key elements: light and shadow, and content. Light and shadow are the technique, content is the soul…” Huang Zejun began explaining to Tang Zhichu.

It was early morning, and white-collar workers could still be seen heading to work.

As he explained, Huang Zejun pressed the shutter, not just once, but in a rapid flurry.

“Sometimes beautiful moments are fleeting. Don’t be stingy with your shots—capture a span of time, then pick the photos you like later.”

Tang Zhichu nodded, thinking there was indeed something to this.

Then Huang Zejun taught him how to print the photos immediately.

Within ten minutes, Huang Zejun had selected a good shot and printed it.

The photo captured a couple entering a shop to eat: the man’s gaze was on the owner, his hand holding the door for the woman, while she was rummaging in her bag. The morning sun gilded the man's profile in gold.

A couple rushing through their morning, brought vividly to life.

Tang Zhichu gave Huang Zejun a thumbs-up. “Awesome, Jun!”

Praised by Tang Zhichu, Huang Zejun smiled. “I think it could be even better—the angle should have been a bit more to the left.”

Tang Zhichu laughed. “It’s already amazing, I really love this shot…”

Huang Zejun interrupted him, saying, “No, I’m a professional. You have to trust my instincts—I’m sure it could be better than you think!”

Tang Zhichu fell silent, thinking, “You really don’t know how to make conversation.”