Chi Shuo replied puzzledly: 【Then what scent is it? Laundry detergent?】
However, He Lindi didn’t send another message to answer. She switched the topic to drawing, and Chi Shuo didn’t ask further.
Wednesday afternoon, Chi Shuo took her camera upstairs again. Today, He Lindi officially began teaching her photography. Yesterday, they had agreed she would take her to a shooting site.
Actually, Chi Shuo didn’t know where this site was, but following along was enough. She even felt a faint sense of anticipation. After all, in Chi Shuo’s perception, going out for work was indeed better than staying in the office.
But it was winter now, the outdoor temperature was low, making movement less convenient, and it was easy to feel drowsy, unable to escape hibernation.
Perhaps thinking of this, He Lindi arranged for a driver today, while she and Chi Shuo sat in the back seat.
Chi Shuo’s sleep schedule had improved recently, but she still felt like she hadn’t slept enough the next day. The car’s air conditioning was set just right, and the overcast weather outside added a layer of comfort. Feeling drowsy, Chi Shuo asked He Lindi, “Teacher He, how much longer until we arrive?”
“Half an hour.”
“Then I’ll sleep for a bit.” Chi Shuo finished speaking, used her scarf as a cushion against the car window, and rested her head on it, looking like she had peacefully fallen asleep.
He Lindi had been looking at her phone. After a few minutes, she slowly tilted her head and looked at Chi Shuo.
The driver drove steadily ahead. He Lindi spoke softly, “Uncle Jiu, let’s arrive ten minutes later.” She paused. “The road is slippery.”
“Okay.”
Arriving ten minutes later was fine. They were expected at 3:30 PM. It was only 2:40 PM now. Arriving within half an hour would still be twenty minutes early.
After speaking, He Lindi glanced at Chi Shuo again. Seeing no signs of her waking up, she sighed in relief, then shifted slightly closer to Chi Shuo.
Her phone displayed the WeChat interface, specifically a chat dialogue. The contact was noted as: 【Miaoran】.
She was currently chatting with Ding Miaoran.
The latest message was Ding Miaoran’s reply: 【If Chi Shuo is straight and rejects you, then you’ll have no lingering thoughts. The premise is you have to tell her you like her.】
He Lindi stared at these words, slow to reply. Her fingertips tapped and deleted on the input method, deleted and typed again, unsure what to send back.
Was Chi Shuo straight? He Lindi didn’t know the answer. Although society’s tolerance for homosexuality had gradually increased, at least better than before, it didn’t mean the same-sex person she liked shared her orientation.
He Lindi had never heard any news about Chi Shuo’s love life, but she had seen others look at Chi Shuo with admiration.
For example, Xiao Cheng from Xinyue Company. They had traveled together during the business trip to Beijing. Even across the crowd, He Lindi could sense Xiao Cheng’s deliberately suppressed yet still intense affection for Chi Shuo.
After a long while, He Lindi replied: 【I’ll see how things go.】
Sometimes, liking someone doesn’t necessarily need to be spoken. If she could express it through actions and make Chi Shuo realize her feelings, then barring any accidents, Chi Shuo would likely react.
If luck was good, and Chi Shuo happened to like her too, that would be perfect.
If luck wasn’t good, and Chi Shuo was straight, then… honestly, He Lindi didn’t know what to do either.
Over the years, to test her family’s attitude, she changed boyfriends every semester at school, but she didn’t play with others’ feelings because they were all contract couples.
She signed contracts with those boys, then embarked on one relationship journey after another.
The result was clear: whether she changed boyfriends every six months or every three months, her family wouldn’t say much. The subtext seemed to be… as long as she didn’t date women, it was fine.
Thinking of this made He Lindi feel a tightness in her chest. She closed her eyes and gently exhaled.
This unconsciously gentle action made her pause for several seconds. She felt she might like Chi Shuo more deeply than she imagined. Now, even breathing felt like it might disturb the peacefully sleeping Chi Shuo beside her.
He Lindi tilted her head again, looking at Chi Shuo’s face. After perhaps ten seconds, she retracted her gaze, the corners of her lips quietly lifting into a curve.
The driver’s skills were steady, and he calculated the time precisely. Forty minutes later, he stopped the car. His voice was slightly deep: “Miss, we’ve arrived.”
He Lindi hummed in agreement and got out of the car with Chi Shuo, who had already woken up.
Normally, He Lindi would bring her assistant, but not today. Having Chi Shuo was enough, and today wasn’t a particularly important task.
Getting out of the car, gusts of wind rushed towards them like starving ghosts seeing food.
Chi Shuo tightened her scarf and remarked with emotion, “Good thing I wore a turtleneck today.” Her implication was very clear. “Otherwise, if you forgot my scarf, wouldn’t I be finished?”
Last night before bed, she had clearly reminded He Lindi to bring her scarf to the company this morning, but He Lindi had forgotten.
Fortunately, Chi Shuo seemed to have anticipated this outcome, wearing a turtleneck sweater and a short down jacket when she woke up early.
He Lindi put on an innocent look. “It wasn’t intentional.”
Chi Shuo glanced at her. “Right, it wasn’t intentional. Anyway, you wore a turtleneck too, you’re not afraid of the cold.”
After speaking, Chi Shuo tightened her gloves. He Lindi watched her actions and asked curiously, “Are your hands very sensitive to the cold?”
They walked side-by-side towards a building. Chi Shuo nodded and answered honestly, “My hands can’t get cold, otherwise I’ll get chilblains.” She asked, “Have you ever had chilblains?”
He Lindi shook her head. “No. What does it feel like?”
“Itchy, painful, red, and swollen.”
“Can’t scratch it, can’t touch it.”
“Very uncomfortable.”
“Then you really need to protect them.”
“Definitely. Hands are too important to me.”
He Lindi’s thoughts suddenly went astray. Her ears, perhaps from her wayward thoughts or the wind, gradually turned red, a stark contrast to her fair face.
Chi Shuo naturally saw it and asked with concern, “Do you need earmuffs?” She said, “Why are your ears so red? Are they going to freeze?”
He Lindi lifted her hand to touch her hot earlobe, trying hard to keep her voice steady. “No, my ears don’t freeze.”
Chi Shuo looked at her suspiciously, somewhat doubting the truth of her words.
After walking for about ten minutes, He Lindi led Chi Shuo to the shooting location for today.
It was a small exhibition hall, not yet open, clearly still in the preparation phase.
Chi Shuo remembered the time He Lindi took her to a photography exhibition. Now, the preparations inside weren’t for photography, but for paintings.
Chi Shuo was somewhat surprised. “Brought me here to learn painting?”
“This is an event organized by Qingya, but she can’t attend. She asked me to come help take some work photos and pictures of the pieces beforehand, so they can be used for official promotion later.”
Chi Shuo nodded and followed her inside.
The exhibition hall wasn’t large. The walls were painted beige. Pieces were either hung on the walls or placed inside glass display cases.
Staff members were still busy moving things around. He Lindi and Chi Shuo bypassed the main hall and entered a small room.
A light shone in the center of the small room; other areas were pitch black. In the middle was a small table. The only light here came from the spotlight above.
It felt like another world, isolating the sounds of staff arranging tasks outside, so quiet it seemed only their breathing could be heard.
A painting rested on the small table. He Lindi explained softly, “This is the piece we’re shooting today.”
Only after slowly walking up to the small table did Chi Shuo fully see the painting’s content.
It was an ink wash painting, depicting a peaceful small village. People were fishing, farming, and children were laughing and playing.
The artist’s skill was clearly adept; without years of practice, it couldn’t be achieved. Every detail was expressed perfectly. Chi Shuo exclaimed, “Amazing.”
“This is one of the main promotional pieces this time,” He Lindi said.
Chi Shuo nodded. “No wonder.” She couldn’t stop praising it. “It’s really rare to see someone who can paint ink wash this well nowadays.”
He Lindi smiled slightly and nodded. “Mm.”
After speaking, she removed her camera’s lens cap. She needed to put it in her bag, but Chi Shuo reached out and said, “Let me hold it.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m your assistant now.”
“Okay.” He Lindi turned the cap around and placed it in Chi Shuo’s hand.
He Lindi aimed the lens at the painting. But the painting wasn’t small, nor easy to shoot, requiring various angles. Chi Shuo watched her working seriously and was influenced, starting to study how to capture the painting well herself.
During this time, He Lindi even asked her to hold the reflector board, teaching while shooting: “For this kind of promotional photo, close-up shots are more eye-catching, but the close-up isn’t chosen randomly. You need to find distinctive features that reflect the work’s nature…”
He Lindi, the teacher, taught seriously, and Chi Shuo, the student, listened attentively. After He Lindi finished shooting a set of photos, she let Chi Shuo try taking some herself.
Chi Shuo’s palms were slightly sweaty. Hearing He Lindi’s arrangement, she nervously swallowed, then took the DSLR from He Lindi—He Lindi hadn’t let her bring her own, just this one camera.
Chi Shuo exhaled, aimed the lens at the painting, tried hard to find an angle, and pressed the shutter.
After shooting a set, Chi Shuo sighed inwardly. Being a photographer wasn’t easy; the various tricky angles severely tested one’s physical flexibility and stamina.
Leaving the exhibition hall, Chi Shuo’s forehead was beaded with sweat. She pulled down the collar of her sweater slightly, letting the wind blow in. “Too hot, shooting a set almost killed me.”
Last time He Lindi taught her photography on her birthday, she hadn’t felt it, perhaps because it was just casually pressing the shutter on the street. Now, calming down to experience it, it was a different feeling entirely.
He Lindi handed her a wet wipe. Chi Shuo’s gloves were already in her bag. Her palms were slightly moist now, and holding the wet wipe didn’t feel cold.
He Lindi said, “There’s too much to learn in photography. Take your time, you can definitely become an excellent photographer.”
Chi Shuo’s lips twitched. She gave up on herself. “Forget it, I can’t save myself. Just now while taking pictures, I felt I really couldn’t do it, couldn’t capture the effect you did at all.” She sighed. “Ai, too difficult. Can I go back to the company and continue being a junior clerk?”
He Lindi’s smile froze for a second, then she shook her head. “No.”
Chi Shuo thought of Lin Xinyue, that smiling tiger boss, and lowered her head. “True enough.”
He Lindi pressed her lips together. She gestured towards a small supermarket nearby with her chin and asked, “Thirsty?”
Chi Shuo nodded. “A little.”
Entering the supermarket, He Lindi asked, “Do you want room temperature or cold?”
“Drinking cold in this weather is too chilly,” Chi Shuo replied.
But leaving the supermarket, both held ice cream cones.
Chi Shuo uttered the classic “so fragrant” line: “…Eating ice cream in winter is just too refreshing.”
“Mm, yes.”
It was almost quitting time, no need to return to the company. He Lindi’s driver drove Chi Shuo to her complex entrance, then took He Lindi away.
In the car.
He Lindi rubbed her brow tiredly. Hearing Uncle Jiu’s steady voice, he asked her, “Miss, contacting Miss Chi like this…”
He Lindi’s hand paused at his words. She slowly opened her eyes, looked out the window, and said, “I have my own sense of propriety.”
Uncle Jiu sighed and said nothing more.
After showering and drying her hair, Chi Shuo received a Weibo link from He Lindi.
She clicked on it and found it was the official Weibo account for the exhibition event. It had released a set of promotional pictures.
In the photographer column, the names filled in were—Chi Shuo, He Lindi.
Chi Shuo’s lips curved upwards. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if it was because the photos she took were chosen, or because…
Her name stood shoulder-to-shoulder with He Lindi’s.
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