FQ chapter 25

Early the next morning, the two set out from the village. On the road, Luan Ye made a list of the things he needed to buy and explained to Fan Qing why he wanted to shoot portraits.

He glossed over the details of Granny Mu’s late husband and just said that getting a proper photo taken was troublesome for the elderly, and since he had nothing else to do, he might as well help.

When he finished, Luan Ye closed the notes app and looked at Fan Qing.

Fan Qing hadn’t said anything for a while. Luan Ye raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m just idle and bored, don’t you?”

Fan Qing shook his head.

Luan Ye had been idle since arriving, but he’d rather sleep all day than go out for a walk. And he’d clearly said he didn’t like taking portraits. So buying a bunch of gear just to help old folks get their memorial portraits taken didn’t sound like a convincing reason.

It was just that he was kind.

He rented a car for Fan Qing, helped him check scores, and now he was helping Granny Mu with the portraits. All because he was kind.

Thinking that, Fan Qing felt his heart sinking again.

“It’s—” Luan Ye was still waiting for his answer. Fan Qing hesitated. “It’s meaningful.”

Luan Ye always said he didn’t know the meaning of what he was doing. But in truth, everything he chose to do was meaningful.

“If it gets too busy, I can help,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye used to carry his camera everywhere, traveling the country mostly taking landscape shots—sometimes animals. It was hard to imagine how much work it would take to do portraits for all the elderly in the village.

“No more money-making?” Luan Ye teased.

“This… this matters more,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye looked at him for a few seconds. “Does it?”

“If Granny Mu spreads the word, a lot of people will probably come. We’ll need to organize them, make sure there’s no crowding,” Fan Qing began nervously explaining. “Most of the elderly only speak the local dialect. If they get excited, they’ll all crowd around talking at once…”

Luan Ye cut him off. “You’re coming. Definitely.”

Fan Qing couldn’t help laughing, then after a while, added a reminder.

“Also, your plan includes photography, printing, and framing… it’s going to be a lot of work. Really tiring too.”

Even if Fan Qing handled everything he could, just taking photos of that many people would wear Luan Ye out.

“I know. It’s fine.”

They still had some distance to the city. Luan Ye closed his eyes to rest. “I won’t be here long anyway. Might as well leave behind something meaningful.”

“…Oh.”

Fan Qing went quiet.

The car fell silent. Outside the windows, the wind howled past. Fan Qing replayed what Luan Ye had just said in his head, momentarily distracted.

He’d nearly forgotten—no matter how much Luan Ye didn’t act like a tourist, he was only staying in the village temporarily. One day, he would leave.

With each passing day, that moment drew closer.

He might go back to Hangzhou—he was from there. Or more likely, back to the U.S., where his job and boyfriend were…

They turned a corner. On the guardrail ahead, a bold sign read: Drive Carefully on Curves—Stay Focused!

Right on cue. Fan Qing sighed silently.

 …..

They spent the whole morning visiting the city’s electronics malls and shopping centers. As Fan Qing had expected, the camera and lenses Luan Ye wanted were all sold out.

“These kinds of models are hard to get here,” one shop owner explained. “Too popular. Hard to order, and we can’t sell them here anyway—too expensive.”

Fan Qing asked, “Do you know anyone who sells them?”

“If you’re talking about this city? Definitely not,” the owner replied flatly.

“Even Kunming might be a stretch. Everything on your list is pro-level gear—you’d need to bundle an order. If it’s just for casual use, there’s no need to go that high-end.”

At that moment, Luan Ye finally spoke: “I’m buying it to take photos for others.”

“Photoshoots? Then it’s even more unnecessary,” the shop owner paused, surprised. “No matter how good your gear is, your clients won’t know the difference. Just edit the photos nicely and that’s enough.”

Fan Qing turned to look at Luan Ye, who checked the time and said, “Let’s eat first.”

They randomly picked a small rice noodle shop. Luan Ye took a couple of bites, then looked over his shopping list again.

It really was hard to get what he needed here, and he started wondering if maybe his standards were a bit too high.

Truthfully, most people didn’t have a sharp eye for camera quality—let alone the elderly in the village who rarely came to the city. Some shopkeepers had recommended him some decent alternatives that morning.

But it had been a long time since he had felt the desire to do something properly. To lower his standards now, to settle for “good enough”… he felt unwilling.

Not just for himself—but also for the elderly who might come in new clothes and headscarves, carrying a quiet hope.

The only solution was to find someone outside the area to buy everything and mail it to him—which meant he needed someone reliable.

By “reliable,” he meant someone who could buy things and keep their mouth shut.

Fan Qing had been silent the whole time, finishing his bowl of noodles quietly, then pulling out his phone to look at something.

When Luan Ye finally put down his chopsticks, Fan Qing asked, “Want to check it out?”

Luan Ye was startled. “What?”

“Kunming,” Fan Qing replied. “It’s four hours by high-speed train. Or I can ask my aunt to check with a few stores first.”

Luan Ye looked at him for a moment, and couldn’t hide the growing smile on his face. “You mean, now?”

“Did you bring your ID?” Fan Qing asked.

“What about you?” Luan Ye deflected. “You coming with me?”

“I can,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye looked at him, grinning for a while before finally saying, “Forget it. The shop owner already said there’s no guarantee they’ll have it.”

“Then—”

“I’ll have someone check and see if they can buy it and mail it over,” Luan Ye finished his Coke and stood up.

“Let’s go back.”

The trip back was quiet. Luan Ye had his eyes closed the whole way, and Fan Qing wasn’t sure if he was actually asleep. It wasn’t until they returned to the village that he finally opened his eyes—without a trace of drowsiness in them.

Just before they reached the house, Luan Ye said, “If I want to receive a delivery here, what address should I use? Send it to me later.”

“Just write the village name and full contact info,” Fan Qing explained. “But you’ll have to pick it up at the town’s service point—they don’t deliver to the village.”

Kind of a hassle. Luan Ye looked a little troubled.

If this had only been a personal project, he probably would’ve given up on it after walking out of the last store that morning. But now, he just nodded. “Got it.”

“I might use your contact info,” Luan Ye added. “You can pick it up when it arrives.”

Fan Qing only hesitated for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

Back upstairs, it was still early. Luan Ye rested with his eyes closed for a while, and only when the sun began to shift westward did he pick up his phone.

Fan Qing had already sent him the address. Luan Ye copied it, opened his contacts, and entered a phone number.

The WeChat account that popped up had a string of Arabic characters as the nickname. Luan Ye changed the memo name to Xu Song, and tapped Add Friend.

The friend request was simple, just two characters: Luan Ye.

About five minutes later, the phone buzzed. A message popped up: “I’ve accepted your request, now we can…”

Before he could finish reading it, a voice call came through.

Luan Ye sighed and put it on speaker: “Hey, it’s me.”

There was five or six seconds of silence on the other end before a voice cursed:
“What the actual hell.”

Luan Ye laughed. “Is it that surprising?”

“I just walked out of the studio—I thought even scammers were getting this smart now,” Xu Song muttered, lowering his voice. “Where are you right now?”

Luan Ye didn’t answer. “Where are you? Still in Shanghai?”

Xu Song clicked his tongue. “Who’s supposed to be asking the questions here?”

“I’m asking you,” Luan Ye said as he reached for a cigarette on the desk, lit it without hesitation. “If you don’t want to answer, just hang up.”

After a pause, Xu Song replied, “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Do me a favor. I’ll send you a list—buy everything on it and mail it to this address.”

Luan Ye didn’t waste words. He snapped a screenshot of the memo list and sent it, along with the address he had just copied.

“Send it to this name and contact.”

Xu Song must’ve skimmed the image, because after a moment, he asked, “You’re in the country?”

Luan Ye picked up a lighter, lit his cigarette, and answered through a thin veil of smoke,
“Yeah.”

Xu Song paused for a moment. “Bai Mingchuan came looking for you a while ago, asked if you were back. I told him I didn’t know.”

“Good,” Luan Ye chuckled. “Tell him the same thing next time.”

“He also said if I ever heard from you, to let him know,” Xu Song added.

Luan Ye didn’t respond.

Xu Song’s voice grew a bit helpless. “I know. I wouldn’t tell him.”

Only then did Luan Ye speak again: “I knew you wouldn’t. That’s why I contacted you first.”

Xu Song laughed. “Wow, you still remember my number?”

“There’s only a few people I still talk to. You’re the only one still in China—it’s not hard to remember.” Luan Ye laughed again. “It’s not like I’d call Bai Mingchuan.”

Luan Ye could hear Xu Song close a door on his end; the background noise quieted. “You guys… had a falling out?”

“Would I dare?” Luan Ye leaned back in his chair and looked out the window at the snowy mountains, his tone turning cold.

“Most people think I’m some kind of criminal, and that he was so gracious to forgive me. Like he’s Jesus or something.”

He dropped his gaze, flicked the ash from his cigarette. As he did, the black leather cord on his wrist slid down, revealing a jagged scar.

“Money’s measurable, more or less. But I owe his family a life. That’s not something I’ll ever be able to repay.”

“…Don’t say that,” Xu Song murmured, at a loss. “What happened back then wasn’t entirely your fault. You were only nineteen.”

Luan Ye lowered his eyes and didn’t respond.

Xu Song quickly changed the topic.

“It’ll take a few days to get everything on your list—I’ll need to run around a bit. Should take three or four days. I’ll mail it to this guy… Fan Qing, right?”

Luan Ye: “Yeah.”

“Can’t send it directly to you?”

“I trust you,” Luan Ye said, “but I still don’t want you to have my number. It’s complicated.”

“Got it.” Xu Song sounded a little exasperated, but didn’t press. “So who is this guy? New friend?”

Luan Ye smiled. “Sort of.”

A friend?

Luan Ye thought about it, then added,
“Send the stuff to him, but don’t call him directly or try to get information out of him. If you need something, message me on WeChat. Don’t bother him.”