On Tuesday evening, Zhao Jing’s parents called to once again discuss the timing of his departure from the island.
Wei Jiayi was organizing photos across the room. From the length of Zhao Jing’s silence, he could tell that his parents were earnestly trying to persuade him.
Their arguments likely included the doctor’s assessment that Zhao Jing’s leg was healing slower than expected as Zhao Jing immediately asked, “Which doctor said that? Dr. Wang or Dr. Li?”
Apparently, his parents scolded him in response. From the corner of his eye, Wei Jiayi saw Zhao Jing purse his lips. “I can’t even ask a simple question?”
In the end, his parents prevailed. Zhao Jing and Li Mingcheng were scheduled to return on Saturday. After the timing was confirmed, Zhao Jing still wouldn’t give up and pressed further, “But which doctor said it?” His parents hung up on him.
Since the island’s airplane runway, makeshift terminal, and other facilities were still under construction, Zhao Jing and his secretary made plans to take a helicopter to the largest coastal city on Saturday morning. From there, they would head to the airport and catch a flight home.
However, Wei Jiayi had not decided on his return date yet.
He had been photographing near the residential houses for four days and felt there were still many areas that needed to be reshot. He had already postponed his work until the following Wednesday, giving him ample time.
But once Zhao Jing and Li Mingcheng left, he would likely need to find a new place to stay. He figured he could ask Nick about accommodations tomorrow.
Lost in his thoughts, Wei Jiayi heard Zhao Jing say, “Do you have Wei Jiayi’s passport number?”
He looked up and saw Zhao Jing speaking to his secretary.
“Not yet.” The secretary glanced at Wei Jiayi with a look of confusion, clearly unsure why he would need Wei Jiayi’s passport number in the first place.
Zhao Jing turned to Wei Jiayi and instructed, “Send it to Wu Rui. He needs it to submit the passenger list.” His tone was confident as if it were already decided that Wei Jiayi would be traveling with him.
By now, Wei Jiayi was completely accustomed to Zhao Jing’s habit of making unilateral decisions. He wasn’t surprised in the least and remained calm. He simply smiled and tactfully said, “No need to include me. I might not finish shooting by Saturday.”
“Just send it over. If you don’t go, they can update it,” Zhao Jing replied, then added, “What did you shoot today? Show me.”
With that, Zhao Jing waved his hand, signaling the secretary to leave. Li Mingcheng, who had been seated nearby, showed no brotherly affection and immediately stood up as well. Just a couple of days ago, he would have made excuses, but now he had learned to simply leave without saying anything.
Wei Jiayi sighed inwardly.
Zhao Jing’s personality was already difficult, but in the past few days, he had taken it to a whole new level. His newfound obsession with critiquing photos meant that every evening, he would corner Wei Jiayi, insisting on detailed explanations for each shot.
What was even stranger was that Zhao Jing seemed to have picked up some photography jargon from somewhere. His evaluations included terms like color composition and visual storytelling, and he even dropped a few notable names. Surprisingly, he didn’t make any mistakes, but it still sounded bizarre.
Every time Wei Jiayi tried to interrupt—planning to tell him that he hadn’t taken photos in ages, that his work wasn’t great, and that these pictures didn’t remind him of Robert Frank[mfn]Robert Frank is a famous photographer.[/mfn]—he’d catch Zhao Jing’s casual yet diligent attempts to drop references. In the end, he held his tongue.
Once the living room cleared out, Wei Jiayi checked on Zhao Jing’s leg, then proactively took his camera and sat beside him, ready to share the results of the day’s work.
Since beginning his work documenting the residential area, Wei Jiayi had made a habit of sharing his day with Zhao Jing every night. He would recount the stories behind each photo in detail. With considerate gentleness, he spoke as though Zhao Jing were the only person that mattered. He didn’t even glance at his phone when messages came in, treating Zhao Jing as the most important person, which made Zhao Jing feel a little better inside.
After all, during Wei Jiayi’s first night of shooting, thinking about a certain set of photos stirred up Zhao Jing’s emotions, causing him to suffer from insomnia for at least fifteen minutes. He had been really irritated.
The next day, Zhao Jing had hired a photography professor from Wei Jiayi’s school to give him daily lessons before bed. This arrangement not only improved his sleep quality but also deepened his knowledge. Judging by Wei Jiayi’s expressions, even he seemed impressed with Zhao Jing’s photography expertise.
As Wei Jiayi held the camera, he showed Zhao Jing a photo of a library section that had survived the disaster.
“This tilted shelf had art books,” Wei Jiayi said softly, zooming in on the image. “Surprisingly, one of them was a photo album by my mentor.”
Zhao Jing took a look and recognized the name as one of the few photographers he’d been familiar with even before his lessons. His mother had collected several of his works. He immediately told Wei Jiayi and added, “I’ll show you when we get back.”
“I’ve seen a lot of his work already.” Wei Jiayi smiled at him. “My mentor was very kind to me. When I was in school, I helped out in his studio. He gave me all the film rolls and software I needed for class.”
“Really?” Zhao Jing connected this to what he’d learned about contemporary photography yesterday and became suspicious, quickly identifying the issue. “I remember that fashion photography wasn’t his specialty.”
The curve on Wei Jiayi’s lips faltered for a moment before he said, “You even know that?”
“It’s true.” Wei Jiayi tightened his grip on the camera but soon recovered, smiling at Zhao Jing again. “So sometimes I feel like, even though he doesn’t say anything, he might be a bit disappointed in me.”
“Why?”
Wei Jiayi glanced up at Zhao Jing and said, “It’s too complicated and pretty boring. Let’s look at something else. I also took photos of the sci-fi bookshelf, and there was this hilarious bootleg title: Harry Potter and Dungeons & Dragons.”
It was clear he was changing the subject, perhaps feeling unconfident about himself. He didn’t notice that Zhao Jing was genuinely interested, instead worrying that dragging the topic out might bore him. Zhao Jing reassured him, “Go ahead. I’ll only know if it’s boring after I hear it.”
Wei Jiayi’s expression froze for a second. After a pause, he began, “It’s not much. He thought I had more talent for other types of photography and didn’t think I should be focusing on what I’m doing now.”
“What do you prefer, then?” Zhao Jing honed in on the key point, gently guiding the conversation to help Wei Jiayi ease his worries.
Wei Jiayi shook his head and opened his mouth slightly before answering uncertainly, “I’m not sure.”
Zhao Jing didn’t rush him. “Take your time to think about it.”
“…I started out shooting portraits to make a living,” Wei Jiayi explained. “After graduation, I tried shooting other subjects, but the results weren’t good. I didn’t accomplish much. Eventually, I went back to portraits, which led me to fashion and commercial photography—and that’s where I’ve stayed.”
As he spoke, his voice grew softer. The usual smile faded from his face, replaced by hesitation, and his eyes wandered elsewhere. Zhao Jing watched his profile intently, unable to tell why it was so hard to look away.
“Ah.” Wei Jiayi suddenly snapped out of it, straightening his back and looking at Zhao Jing with clarity. “Let’s stop talking about this. It really is boring.”
Zhao Jing blurted out, “It’s not boring,” before he even realized it.
As Wei Jiayi was left speechless, touched by Zhao Jing’s patience, the phone he had set down began to vibrate.
The warm atmosphere between them was abruptly interrupted by the ringtone. Zhao Jing was already fuming. A second later, his eyes shifted to the screen, where “Pan Yifei” was displayed.
Wei Jiayi wasn’t entirely sure why he had opened up so much to Zhao Jing. Maybe it was because Zhao Jing didn’t understand the struggles of life, making him feel like he could vent without judgment. Or maybe he was just tired and craved someone to talk to, regardless of the situation.
But as soon as the phone rang, Zhao Jing’s anger became visible as his eyes fixed on the screen.
As the phone continued to vibrate, Wei Jiayi hesitated about whether to answer or decline the call.
A week or so ago, when Wei Jiayi saw Pan Yifei’s incoming call, he had still habitually felt some unspoken pain. But now, upon seeing the name again, all he could hear in his head was Zhao Jing’s remark: “You could still sue.”
Just as he hesitated, the call disconnected. Moments later, the phone rang again.
Afraid that something might actually be wrong, Wei Jiayi decided to answer. Before he could say a word, Zhao Jing leaned over like he was causing trouble and loudly asked, “Who is it?” His interruption left Pan Yifei silent on the other end.
If it weren’t for the awkwardness, Wei Jiayi might have laughed.
After a few seconds, Pan Yifei asked, “Jiayi, is someone with you? Is this a bad time?”
“What’s wrong?” Wei Jiayi didn’t answer the question and went straight to the point.
Before Pan Yifei could reply, Zhao Jing piped up again, “Wei Jiayi, who is it?”
Wei Jiayi struggled to catch his breath, tempted to cover Zhao Jing’s mouth, but he knew Zhao Jing’s mouth couldn’t be stopped if he wanted to. He had no choice but to say to Pan Yifei, “Hold on a moment.” He then muted the call and said to Zhao Jing, “It’s Pan Yifei. I thought you saw it.”
“Oh, I didn’t see it clearly. So, it’s him.” Zhao Jing shrugged his shoulders as he continued shamelessly, “He still dares to call? Aren’t you two not close? The PR company said it took three days to clean up the articles, and there were so many of them it was like a biological invasion of the internet.”
Wei Jiayi was so angry he almost laughed. He said helplessly, “I’ll step outside to take this call.”
“Why? Can’t you take it here?” Zhao Jing’s expression faltered at those words.
“I don’t want to disturb you.”
The weak excuse clearly didn’t fool Zhao Jing. He even seemed to smile, teasing as he retorted, “Disturb me? I don’t feel disturbed.”
In the end, Wei Jiayi still walked to the entryway to take the call. Zhao Jing didn’t follow. His face was expressionless as if Wei Jiayi was about to truly piss him off. He tossed the camera in his hand, glancing in Wei Jiayi’s direction.
Wei Jiayi walked around the corner, out of Zhao Jing’s sight, and only then unmuted the phone. “Okay, what’s the matter?”
“Are you busy? Did I interrupt you?”
Pan Yifei’s voice was as low and gentle as ever, but Wei Jiayi just wanted to end the call quickly and get back to placating Zhao Jing. He asked directly, “Is there something you need?”
“I donated to the account you posted yesterday,” Pan Yifei replied.
“Thank you.”
“Just a small gesture. It’s nothing compared to the work you’re doing there.”
“Thanks.” Wei Jiayi didn’t want to beat around the bush with him, so he asked again, “Is there anything else?”
Pan Yifei fell silent for a few seconds. Wei Jiayi thought he heard the faint sound of a crutch pressing against the floor, but it stopped after a moment. He didn’t dare turn to look, only listening as Pan Yifei finally spoke.
“Actually, Xian-jie told me that recently a few media contacts she knows called her and said someone paid to have certain things taken down.”
Wei Jiayi responded with an “Mm,” signaling that he was listening.
Pan Yifei continued, “I looked into it and realized what it was. Those things needed to be deleted.”
“You never saw them before?” Wei Jiayi asked.
“Never. You know me—always busy filming and reading scripts.”
Wei Jiayi didn’t respond, so Pan Yifei added, “Jiayi, when you’re back this time, let’s have a meal together and really talk. I’ve been thinking a lot about the time we shared that rental. We were so happy then, and things were so simple.”
“I haven’t thought about it.” Wei Jiayi told him bluntly. “Anyway, no need to discuss it further. As for dinner, I’ll pass. If we get photographed together, all your PR work would be for nothing.”
After hanging up, Wei Jiayi felt a vague dullness. He knew the sadness had been real once, but he could no longer summon the emotions from back then. Without realizing it, he had truly stopped looking back.
Still holding his phone, he stepped out from around the corner. Not far away, Zhao Jing stood by a full-length mirror, crutch under his arm, holding the camera.
Wei Jiayi walked toward him. Zhao Jing didn’t move, his gaze lowered slightly as he watched Wei Jiayi approach.
Stopping in front of him, Wei Jiayi wasn’t sure what to say. Eventually, he asked, “Did you hear just now?”
“How do I turn this on?” Zhao Jing didn’t answer the question. Instead, he fiddled with the camera, powered it on with one hand, and as the screen lit up, he raised it and snapped a photo of Wei Jiayi.
The lens was so close that it almost touched Wei Jiayi’s eyelashes. He heard the shutter click from just a breath away, and his heart tightened. He looked up at Zhao Jing.
Zhao Jing’s expression didn’t change, and Wei Jiayi couldn’t read his emotions. Zhao Jing took a second photo. At this point, Wei Jiayi was certain Zhao Jing was upset. But Zhao Jing lowered the camera slightly and naturally asked, “How do you think my photo turned out?”
Wei Jiayi was confused, feeling his heart pounding. He quickly helped him open the photo review.
The camera felt like two completely different objects depending on whose hands held it. In Wei Jiayi’s hands, it was just a camera. In Zhao Jing’s, it looked as small as a toy.
Wei Jiayi looked at the photos Zhao Jing had taken—two close-ups of his eyes, one open and one closed, both out of focus and blurry. Having taken countless photos of others but never of himself, Wei Jiayi was caught off guard by these hazy close-ups that resembled something from a horror movie.
“Well?” Zhao Jing asked smugly.
Wei Jiayi forced himself to compliment, “Great. Very creative.”
Zhao Jing smiled faintly and said, “Wei Jiayi, let’s take a photo together.” He adjusted the camera back to shooting mode, mimicking what he’d seen Wei Jiayi do earlier. Then, he effortlessly hooked his crutch with his left hand. “Come a bit closer.”
Wei Jiayi moved closer, feeling the coldness of Zhao Jing’s crutch press against his back. Zhao Jing’s hand rested almost weightlessly on his shoulder as he used his chin to gesture toward the full-length mirror.
In the reflection, Zhao Jing stood next to him, wearing a blue cotton-linen shirt so pale it was almost white, paired with beige golf pants. His left leg was braced, but he stood tall, his gaze steady as he glanced at the screen and then at Wei Jiayi. The camera rested just above his ribcage.
Though Zhao Jing was only half a head taller, the difference in their body types was striking as Wei Jiayi was much thinner. When their arms brushed against each other, there was still enough space between them to easily separate the two, perfectly aligning with Zhao Jing’s moral stance on anti-sexual harassment.
Zhao Jing took several shots like this.
Unsure what Zhao Jing was thinking, Wei Jiayi stared blankly ahead. The only sound in front of the full-length mirror was the click of the shutter.
ZJ you’ve fallen in deep
Thanks for the chapter <3333