The fashion show took place in a sprawling square on the outskirts of the city. After stepping out of the car, Wei Jiayi hurried through the crowds and the endlessly playing music, his mind unable to linger on anything remotely connected to his own life.
From the moment he arrived at the venue until 3 PM, Wei Jiayi had been working non-stop. When the fashion show finally ended, he accompanied the client outside to shoot another set of interactions. Suddenly, the sky turned gloomy, gray clouds gathering above the rooftops of distant buildings. It was then that he spotted Pan Yifei.
Pan Yifei was dressed in a black suit and standing not far away. He was a completely different type compared to Zhao Jing. Only a few centimeters taller than Wei Jiayi, Pan Yifei wore a melancholy expression. His features were far from flawless: his eyes sloped downward too much at the corners, his nose bridge was slightly broad, and its shape wasn’t particularly refined. Back when they were roommates, these imperfections had often led to failed auditions and a lack of work opportunities. Pan Yifei had no connections at the time, and even opportunities that seemed certain would often slip away.
Wei Jiayi had originally planned to avoid him; otherwise, he might feel guilty during the video call with that certain someone later that evening. But before he could take more than a couple of steps, Pan Yifei called out his name: “Jiayi.”
Pan Yifei was still in the middle of a shoot. When Wei Jiayi turned around, Pan Yifei made a familiar gesture as if to say, “Wait for me. I’ll see you in a while,” before immediately refocusing on the photographer.
Perhaps it was because Wei Jiayi had gotten a good look at Zhao Jing’s face the night before that he found himself thinking: if others thought Pan Yifei wasn’t attractive, it could simply be chalked up to differing aesthetics. But when Zhao Jing called Pan Yifei ugly, there was admittedly some truth to it.
Playing dumb had always been one of Wei Jiayi’s strengths. He focused on photographing the client, guiding her away from the area. Once the shoot was complete, he returned to the hotel quickly to start editing.
During a brief gap in his workload, Wei Jiayi noticed a message from Pan Yifei in his inbox. He didn’t open it.
There were far too many other unread messages, so he skimmed through them and pinned Zhao Jing’s chat to the top. After all, it had been his idea to try this relationship. If he was going to commit, he’d have to face reality and start acting differently than before.
When his tasks were finally done, it was still early. Wei Jiayi had a simple meal with a few members of his team before returning to his room. Just as he was about to contact Zhao Jing, his father called unexpectedly.
Wei Jiayi hadn’t spoken to his father in a long time. After he entered university, his father had paid for his first year of tuition, but soon after, he told Wei Jiayi that was the extent of the support he could provide.
“You’re an adult now,” his father had said at the time, explaining that the house was small and Wei Jiayi’s bedroom had been turned into a study for his younger siblings. “Try to be independent from now on.” The message was clear: don’t come back to live here anymore.
At the time, Wei Jiayi didn’t fully understand, but he obediently complied. He stopped returning home and stayed in the bustling metropolis where even breathing seemed to come at a cost. Without an apartment of his own, survival was difficult, and he was constantly worrying about expenses. If he wasn’t in class, he was out on the streets, in parks, or under bridges, carrying softboxes and reflectors to shoot portraits for various clients.
Later, after Wei Jiayi graduated and started earning, his father reached out again. He said business wasn’t going well and bank loans were overdue, asking if Wei Jiayi could help. At the time, Wei Jiayi emptied his savings and sent it all to his father. It took him an additional two years of renting before he could afford to buy his own place. After that, their contact dwindled to almost nothing.
Wei Jiayi stared at his phone for a moment before answering. There was a pause on the other end before his father spoke, mentioning how long it had been since they’d last seen each other. He asked how Wei Jiayi was doing now.
Wei Jiayi replied that he was doing well. His father said that his younger siblings had seen his portfolio and achievements online, which made them proud of him and miss him. His stepmother had even asked if he might come home for Chinese New Year.
“New Year, huh? I’ll probably have to work.” As he spoke, he felt as though he’d been transported back to when he was eleven, just after moving into his stepmother’s house. Back then, he had been timid and docile, doing his best at every task they assigned him—housework, fixing walls, mowing the lawn. None of it had seemed to matter.
“If you’re free around New Year, you could still come by,” his father suggested. “We’ve moved—I’ll send you the new address.” Finally, his father brought up that his younger brother wanted to work on a photography project for a competition and needed Wei Jiayi’s help to understand some things.
Wei Jiayi said, “Have him send me an email. I’ll take a look.”
After hanging up, Wei Jiayi checked the time and realized it was already past 11 PM for Zhao Jing. Feeling a bit guilty, he sent a message: “I’m done now. Want to video chat?”
After waiting a few minutes without a reply, Wei Jiayi figured Zhao Jing must have fallen asleep. He went to take a shower. Unexpectedly, when he came out of the bathroom, he saw two missed video calls from Zhao Jing. He quickly called back. The moment Zhao Jing answered, Wei Jiayi apologized. “I was in the shower.”
Zhao Jing didn’t look pleased. Wearing a robe and lounging in bed, he was bathed in dim light. He stared at Wei Jiayi for a few seconds before speaking. “Didn’t you say you’d call me earlier today?”
Wei Jiayi stayed silent, and Zhao Jing continued, “Forget it. You’re dealing with a time difference.” He suddenly consoled himself, sitting up slightly. His face moved in and out of frame, but his eyes stayed fixed on the screen.
There was something inexplicably odd about his gaze. Wei Jiayi steered the conversation elsewhere while also deflecting the blame. “I was going to call you ten minutes earlier, but my dad called out of nowhere. He said they’ve moved houses, my siblings miss me, and he asked if I’d go back for dinner during the New Year.”
Zhao Jing raised an eyebrow slightly, his tone turning cold. “Didn’t you say you don’t usually contact each other? Sounds like it’s not just about New Year’s dinner.”
His words were relentless, his judgment accurate. Wei Jiayi hummed in response. Zhao Jing pressed further. “What did he want from you?”
“To help my brother with a competition project,” Wei Jiayi explained. “After all, they did raise me, so doing a small favor is fair.”
Zhao Jing’s expression remained impassive, his disapproval barely concealed. Thankfully, he didn’t comment further on the situation. Instead, he pointed out an inconsistency. “He didn’t support you through university, did he? You got all your film and software from your professor’s studio, and you even had to take portraits to pay for your living costs.”
“…”
Zhao Jing’s razor-sharp memory and blunt remarks always left Wei Jiayi speechless. By now, he no longer felt offended and offered a weak explanation. “He paid for the first year. And, besides, since I was already an adult in university, I was considered grown up.”
“Oh, really?” Zhao Jing replied noncommittally, clearly dismissive of the statement. He looked directly at Wei Jiayi. “You’re too easy to bully—no wonder you ended up taking free photos for Li Mingmian.”
Whenever Zhao Jing discussed objective topics like this, his sharpness created an oppressive aura. Wei Jiayi didn’t know how to respond, so he simply said, “It’s not so bad.” Then, he suddenly remembered. “Didn’t I get a camera from him in the end?”
He thought back to the scene where Zhao Jing had intercepted the camera from Li Mingmian and couldn’t help but smile.
Zhao Jing stared at him for a moment, his expression inexplicably softening. Just as he seemed about to say something, a knock came at Wei Jiayi’s door. Zhao Jing’s eyes instantly sharpened with alarm. “What’s going on? This late? Who is it?”
Wei Jiayi was startled himself, but seeing Zhao Jing suddenly sit upright on the other end of the video almost made him laugh. “It’s probably Xiao Chi. I’ll go check.”
“You’re hanging up?” Zhao Jing misunderstood, his brows furrowing as his voice rose slightly. “I’m not asleep yet.”
“No, I’m not hanging up. Wait for me.” Wei Jiayi placed the phone on the bed and adjusted his bathrobe. Then, suddenly remembering Zhao Jing’s history of troublemaking, he picked up the phone again and warned, “But don’t start talking all of a sudden, okay?”
Zhao Jing reluctantly nodded.
Just to be safe, Wei Jiayi apologized in his mind and secretly muted Zhao Jing’s side.
Wei Jiayi’s room was small, with the door just past the bed and bathroom area. Unlike Zhao Jing, he wasn’t a rich big shot who had to worry about personal safety. He opened the door without any precautions, only to find Pan Yifei standing outside.
Pan Yifei had changed into casual clothes. Upon seeing Wei Jiayi, he paused briefly and said, “Jiayi, you haven’t gone to bed yet, have you?”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t exactly quiet either. The phone on the bed was still running the video call. Though Zhao Jing was muted and unable to speak, he could still listen. Wei Jiayi was so frightened that his first instinct was to slam the door shut. However, Pan Yifei blocked it, lowering his voice and speaking with a hint of urgency. “Jiayi, don’t close the door. You didn’t reply to my messages, so I had no choice but to come find you.”
Pan Yifei glanced behind him. “You don’t want to be caught on camera either, right? Let me come in to talk. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done.”
Wei Jiayi didn’t know how much Zhao Jing could hear them. If he only caught fragments of the conversation, any misunderstanding would be even harder to explain. Left with no better option, Wei Jiayi reluctantly stepped aside to let Pan Yifei enter.
As Pan Yifei walked in, Wei Jiayi quickly stopped him, blocking his way before he could enter the bedroom. “Say what you need to here. What’s going on? And who gave you my room number?”
“Jiayi.” Pan Yifei completely ignored the question, his expression morphing into his usual pleading look. “I know I’ve neglected you a lot over the past few years. I’m here to apologize. Please don’t stay angry.”
Wei Jiayi had once thought Pan Yifei was a gentle and attentive person—a professional actor who worked hard and passionately but never seemed to land the roles he wanted. Like himself, just a bit unlucky. Now, however, he only found him irritating. His words felt meaningless, and he was standing far too close. Wei Jiayi took a step back, eyeing him warily. “If you have something to say, can you just get to the point?”
He couldn’t even remember why he’d agreed to shoot Li Mingmian’s pre-wedding photos for him back then. In hindsight, he should have declined. But if he had refused, he might never have crossed paths with Zhao Jing. He still couldn’t tell whether that had been a blessing or a curse.
Finally realizing Wei Jiayi wasn’t interested in catching up, Pan Yifei asked, “Xian-jie mentioned she couldn’t book a time with you. Does this mean you don’t want to take photos for me anymore?”
“If she couldn’t schedule it, it’s probably just a scheduling issue.” Wei Jiayi forced himself to remain composed, pretending not to know that his agent had outright refused the request. He replied in a puzzled tone, “Couldn’t this have been handled over the phone?”
“I didn’t want you to misunderstand me,” Pan Yifei said. “I’ve already told Xian-jie to delete all the articles. There won’t be any more in the future. Also, however much you spent on the PR company, I’ll reimburse you.”
“It wasn’t me who paid for it,” Wei Jiayi replied. Suddenly, Zhao Jing’s words about being “too easy to bully” echoed in his mind. So, he added casually, “I’ll check with him and let you know.”
Pan Yifei hadn’t expected this response and paused briefly before saying, “Alright.” Then he asked, “Are you still angry at me?”
“I have nothing to be angry about.” Wei Jiayi couldn’t understand why Pan Yifei was so obsessed with gauging his mood. It was baffling. After a moment of thought, he told him, “If you haven’t done anything wrong, then there’s no need to keep assuming I’m upset. You’ve known me long enough to know I’m not someone who gets angry easily.”
Pan Yifei stared at him for a while, then suddenly took a small step closer.
Wei Jiayi truly disliked the way Pan Yifei was acting. He immediately stepped back, his foot crossing into the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his phone screen was still lit, which made him even more uneasy. He couldn’t maintain his polite demeanor any longer and asked impatiently, “Can you stop standing so close? If there’s nothing else, I’m going to sleep. And don’t just show up at someone’s door unannounced again—it’s incredibly rude.”
Pan Yifei froze momentarily, then stepped back slightly. Suddenly, he let out a laugh. “Wei Jiayi, having someone powerful behind you really makes a difference.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wei Jiayi frowned.
“Stop pretending. What makes you any different from me?” Pan Yifei asked in a low voice. “Aren’t we both selling ourselves?”
“Are you insane?” Wei Jiayi couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had never imagined Pan Yifei could say something like that. In an instant, a chill spread through him, so cold it made his hands and feet ache, as if the person standing before him was a stranger.
The look in Pan Yifei’s eyes filled Wei Jiayi with fear and disgust. Without any pretense, Pan Yifei asked, “So, who did you sell yourself to?”
Wei Jiayi snapped out of his shock and shoved Pan Yifei, causing him to stumble backward. He yelled, “Get out!”
Pan Yifei steadied himself and gave a small smile. “Do you really think their interest in you will last? Once they’ve used you up and thrown you away, you’ll regret it. Instead of that, why not just behave and take the photos now?”
After these words, Pan Yifei seemed to have vented all his emotions and malice. He spent a few moments admiring Wei Jiayi’s pale face before stepping back, opening the door, and leaving the room.
Wei Jiayi remained leaning against the wall, dazed for a few seconds—or maybe much longer. Finally, he walked back to the bed and flipped his phone face down without glancing at the screen. He repeatedly pressed the lock button to end the video call. As soon as it disconnected, the phone started vibrating again. He didn’t want to answer, but it kept buzzing insistently until he finally picked up.
On the other end, he heard Zhao Jing repeatedly calling his name, saying something like, “I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll be with you soon.”
“I have work to do,” Wei Jiayi replied.
“I’ll go with you to work.” Zhao Jing sounded urgent, as if afraid Wei Jiayi might refuse. “I’ll come secretly, and no one will know, okay?”
When Wei Jiayi didn’t respond, Zhao Jing added, “I’ll be there early tomorrow morning. Once you’re done with work, I’ll take you home.”
