FQ chapter 27

Granny Mu was already seventy years old but had more energy than Luan Ye. They had agreed to start shooting at 9 a.m. on Wednesday, and by a bit after 8, everyone had already gathered.

They met in the open space beside the big tree in the center of the village. When Luan Ye and Fan Qing arrived with their gear, a crowd of elderly folks in traditional clothing were chatting happily in the square. From a distance, it almost looked like they were preparing for some kind of mysterious ritual.

Some tourists nearby curiously raised their phones, probably thinking a performance was about to begin.

Luan Ye began taking roll. “There are…”

Granny Mu had just stepped up to answer when Fan Qing spoke first.

“Fifty-two.”

“…That was fast,” Luan Ye lowered his hand.

“Yeah, fifty-two,” Granny Mu echoed.

“There are also quite a few from nearby villages. Most are in their seventies or eighties. Their children don’t live nearby, and they can’t make it into town on their own.”

She probably felt a bit guilty for inviting people from other villages and increasing Luan Ye’s workload. She looked at him to gauge his reaction.

Luan Ye just nodded.

There were only a few hours of good lighting for shooting each day, and they also needed to do makeup. The elderly might have personal requests during the shoot.

Taking all that into account, he quickly estimated: “It’s fine. We should be able to finish in two days.”

“Will you be tired after all that shooting?” Granny Mu asked.

“Not at all, I’m just in charge of taking the photos,” Luan Ye smiled and pointed at Fan Qing next to him. “There’s someone to handle the physical labor.”

Fan Qing had a black backpack on his back holding Luan Ye’s camera, lenses, and batteries. He was also carrying a reflector and a tripod. He looked a bit like one of those photographers in old towns trying to hustle people into buying portrait shoots.

And the kind that relies on good looks to charm people, no less.

Photographer Fan turned to Photographer Luan and asked, “Are we starting now?”

“Wait a bit. Qiao Feibai went to the bar to drag some helpers over. Should be here any second—”

Before he even finished his sentence, Qiao Feibai had already darted over like a rabbit, with Qu Jie and Da Yao following behind.

Luan Ye gestured toward them and finished his sentence: “Here they are.”

Since the first time they visited the bar “Go See the Mountains,” Luan Ye had been there a few more times, usually at night when Qiao Feibai invited him to listen to music. During business hours, the two owners were usually busy—one bartending, the other running errands—so Luan Ye rarely talked to them beyond a few casual words.

After doing business for a while, they could tell Luan Ye wasn’t the type to enjoy chatting with strangers.

So seeing that Qiao Feibai had actually brought them over, Luan Ye was a bit stunned.

What shocked him even more was their appearance. At the bar, Qu Jie was always dressed cool and chic with very detailed makeup. Da Yao liked wearing leather jackets and had a stylish, tough-guy look.

When they stood together, they gave off the vibe of bar owners who’d smash a bottle over your head if you caused trouble.

But now, both of them were bare-faced, wearing white T-shirts and jeans. The T-shirts even had large prints of Mickey and Minnie Mouse—matching couple shirts, no less.

Da Yao was dragging a 20-inch suitcase along the gravel path, which clattered noisily as it rolled.

“Have we started yet?” Qiao Feibai asked.

“Not yet, waiting on you guys.”

Luan Ye gave a quick greeting to the two.

He wasn’t great at small talk—especially with people he wasn’t very close to, yet who were still willing to come help. He wasn’t sure what to say, so in the end, he simply said, “It might be a bit tiring.”

“Serving the people,” Da Yao replied.

Everyone laughed at that. Luan Ye chuckled for a while, and just like that, the slightly awkward atmosphere dissolved, making it easier for him to speak.

“We’ll probably need a lot of makeup,” Luan Ye said with a smile.

“Brought everything,” said Qu Jie as she opened the suitcase, which was packed full of bottles and jars.

“There’s temporary hair dye, skincare products, makeup, even two big packs of makeup remover wipes—so we can clean everything off after the shoot.”

Luan Ye looked at her with newfound respect—he hadn’t even thought about hair dye, and Qu Jie had already prepared it.

“No need for heavy makeup. Just make them look fresh and spirited,” Luan Ye added respectfully. “There are 52 people. Even the simplest makeup will be tiring, so if you need a break or help—Fan Qing’s here.”

Luan Ye glanced at Fan Qing, who nodded.

“No need,” Qu Jie replied briskly. “You guys do your thing. I’ll have Da Yao help me, and if it gets overwhelming, I’ll say so.”

Qiao Feibai jumped in excitedly: “Don’t forget me!”

“Then help Granny Mu organize the lineup. Number them from 1 to 52 and call them up for photos one by one,” Luan Ye instructed.

“Ask everyone after number 30 to go home and come back tomorrow. That’s the limit for today—we don’t want people standing around in the sun.”

“Got it,” Qiao Feibai nodded immediately.

“When we’re taking photos, help me communicate with them,” Luan Ye said to Fan Qing. “How they want to pose—standing or sitting—any requests, you help me communicate.”

“Understood,” Fan Qing said.

Luan Ye was used to working solo. This was his first time organizing such a detailed shoot with a team. He mentally ran through everything again, and once sure he hadn’t missed anything, he gave a nod.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

There were a lot of elderly people present, but they were quite orderly. With Qiao Feibai’s booming voice calling out, everyone came over and lined up by number.

Each person would get their makeup done first by Qu Jie.

Da Yao, wearing gloves and holding a small brush, was in charge of coloring the elders’ graying or uneven temple hair and foreheads black again.

On the other side, Qu Jie handled the makeup.

Her skills were refined—not the kind of full glam she’d wear herself. She simply filled in eyebrows, evened out sunspots and rough patches from years of labor. The result was a refreshed, spirited appearance.

Once makeup was done, they came to Luan Ye one by one for their photos.

He had discussed earlier with Granny Mu whether they should prepare red or blue backdrops, but the elderly unanimously said they didn’t want such somber backgrounds—they were too depressing.

So they chose to shoot by the village’s centuries-old tree. A small wooden chair in front of the lush tree, and in the distance, a line of endless snow-capped mountains.

The elders took turns sitting on the chair, smiling as they posed for a photo—one that would be kept by family long after they were gone.

The group stood out in the square. Curious tourists passed by and asked what was happening, and some cheerful elderly folks would happily explain: “A kind young man is helping us take free funeral portraits!”

Tourists were half-shocked, half-moved—some even took out their phones to film.

The kind young man, Luan Ye, had no energy to worry about any of that. He was focused on the photography and communicating with each subject—via Fan Qing.

Fan Qing, however, found time to glance at the shooting queue.

At one point, someone tried to jump in, pointing at Luan Ye: “Free portraits? Take one of me too!”

Luan Ye was looking down, reviewing his last photo. Fan Qing raised his head and frowned—it was a man in his forties or fifties, probably a tourist.

“Funeral portrait,” Fan Qing said coolly. “Get in line if you want one.”

The man awkwardly backed off, and Luan Ye finally looked up and chuckled.

He’s got quite a bite.

Some elders preferred standing over sitting, saying they looked more energetic that way. Others wanted half-body or full-body shots. Some asked whether smiling or staying serious looked better in the final image…

Most of them had spent their whole lives in the village and couldn’t speak Mandarin, only their ethnic dialect. Fan Qing had to stand by each time to interpret.

As long as the request was within reason, Luan Ye always tried to accommodate them.

After every shot, the elder would smile and say “thank you”—which Luan Ye could understand. Some even pulled out sunflower seeds or candies from their bags, asking if he wanted some.

They looked like familiar candies, probably taken home from weddings or village feasts for grandkids.

“Hands are full,” Luan Ye said, holding up his camera and nodding toward Fan Qing. “Let the kid eat them.”

Fan Qing: “…”

A bunch of grandmas laughed and stuffed candy into Fan Qing’s hoodie pocket.

They all went home for lunch, then came back to keep working. Mid-afternoon, an old man came over.

He was over seventy and spoke in a thick local accent. He gestured for a long time, and Luan Ye didn’t understand a word. Eventually, Fan Qing interpreted:

“He’s asking if we can wait a little. He wants to go home and bring his dog.”

“Dog?” Luan Ye was surprised.

He looked at Fan Qing, who nodded and turned to listen quietly to the old man.

The old man’s speech was slow and hesitant, but Fan Qing remained patient, face calm, occasionally replying gently.

Luan Ye watched him quietly, a smile forming in his eyes.

Whether it was with this seventy-year-old man, with customers he hosted, with his late parents he never got to grow up with, or with Luan Ye himself—someone who had mental health struggles and was gay…

Fan Qing was always gentle, patient, and accepting.

These were all qualities that coexisted in Fan Qing—and ones Luan Ye himself lacked.

“He said the dog has been with him for eleven years—” Fan Qing looked up and met Luan Ye’s eyes, and suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mm,” Luan Ye responded softly.

“…The dog can barely walk and is dying soon. He wants to take a photo with it.”

“Of course,” Luan Ye nodded. “Tell him to take his time. We’ll continue shooting others in the meantime. When he comes back, he can cut in.”

Fan Qing translated, and the old man nodded at Luan Ye before slowly shuffling off home.

After photographing three more people, the old man returned with his dog.

The dog was clearly very old, its fur patchy, its face drooping. It walked with the same slow shuffle as its owner.

The old man held onto the back of the chair and slowly sat down. The yellow dog stood beside him, watching him carefully. Once he settled in, it curled up at his feet.

The man bent slightly to pat its head, then sat up straight and smiled at Luan Ye. The dog also looked over at him.

Luan Ye smiled back and pressed the shutter.

One man, one dog, one tree, one mountain.

The old man studied the screen for a while and seemed very satisfied. He reached out to shake Luan Ye’s hand. Luan Ye, holding his camera with one hand, shook it. The man shook it firmly and said “thank you,” then added, in halting, heavily accented Mandarin:

“It’s old. I’m old too. That’s its memorial portrait. And mine.”

After that, he let go, and under the slowly setting sun, he and the dog ambled back home.

Just like that old man, some elders had special requests during their photos, but they were always polite and simple. Overall, the entire shoot went smoothly.

Just as Luan Ye had estimated—they finished photographing all the elders in the village within two days.

The last elderly lady finished taking her photo and handed out five apples—each bigger than a fist—giving one to each of them before leaving.

It was already past six o’clock. The five of them were exhausted and starving, so they simply sat down on a patch of open ground and started munching on the apples.

Next to them were Qu Jie’s makeup kit and all of Luan Ye’s gear. The whole group looked like a bunch of vagabonds on the road, scavenging for a living.

“My hands are shaking from all that makeup,” said Vagabond Makeup Artist, Qu Jie, speaking with her mouth full of apple. “Such a test of skill. I feel like I could open a shop now.”

“Go ahead and open one,” replied Vagabond Hair Dye Artist, Da Yao, instantly chiming in. “Beauty and hair salon—you handle makeup, I handle hair.”

Vagabond Singer Xiao Qiao: “Then what happens to Go See the Mountains?”

The couple responded in unison, “We’ve still got you!”

Vagabond Leader Luan Ye smiled as he listened, biting into his apple while flipping through the photos from the past few days.

They were all good. He felt like he could open a little photo-printing-and-ID-shop here himself, and with a better attitude than the town shops.

Fan Qing leaned over to look, too. “Are we printing them next?”

Luan Ye wanted to answer, but his mouth was full of apple. He turned to look at Fan Qing and jerked his chin in his direction.

Fan Qing looked at him for two seconds, got the message, and reached over to take the apple from Luan Ye’s mouth.

“Some of the photos need editing and color adjustments,” Luan Ye said. “Still early. Let’s go sleep first and handle it later.”

“Not so fast,” said Da Yao, swallowing his last bite of apple and clapping his hands.

“My wife says she’s treating everyone to barbecue tonight—free drinks at Go See the Mountains.”