Jiang Qi Huai didn’t expect Lu Jia Heng to give him any brilliant ideas. According to Cheng Yi’s previous explanation, even his own partner was won over by being completely shameless.
Jiang Qi Huai glanced at him, clearly uninterested. “I don’t trust you.”
“…”
Lu Jia Heng’s next words got stuck in his throat.
“Come on, why are you being so difficult?” Lu Jia Heng said. “With your stuttering personality, by the time she realizes you actually like her, she might have already run off with that other guy.”
He craned his neck curiously and asked, “You left for so many years without leaving her a single message?”
“No,” Jiang Qi Huai replied.
“You never called or texted her during that time?”
“No.”
Lu Jia Heng was stunned. “Then how can you be so sure she’ll still be single when you come back? You could have at least left her a message asking her to wait for you.”
Jiang Qi Huai turned his head away.
Through the ornately carved wooden window, he watched as Tao Zhi and Jiang He Sheng got up to leave with their coats. The girl’s scarf was only half wrapped around her neck, with the end hanging down her back. Jiang He Sheng reached out and pulled her scarf around to the front.
Tao Zhi said something to him with a smile, then tucked the scarf in properly.
The doorbell chimed once, and the two walked out of the teahouse, chatting and laughing.
Long after they disappeared from view, he finally lowered his gaze, his eyes darkening: “I didn’t want to string her along.”
Lu Jia Heng opened his mouth but was lost for words. After a long pause, he sighed: “Why are you so stubborn?”
Jiang Qi Huai didn’t want to tie her down. When he had no confidence in when he could break free, when he didn’t know how many years it would take, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to wait for him.
She was too good. What right did he have to make her wait?
He didn’t deserve to be waited for.
Jiang Qi Huai had never thought about asking Tao Zhi to pause her life for him. She should keep walking her own path, and he would try his best to catch up.
If possible, he would never let go. But if he really came too late and she found someone else worthy of spending her life with, then that would be his fate — the price he had to pay for his decisions.
He would accept any outcome without complaint.
There was no regret or remorse. He never deserved her in the first place, and he had always known this clearly, yet he still couldn’t help but selfishly want to have her, even if just for a moment. He had once recklessly gotten close to her, until reality exposed all his darkness in pieces, magnifying his unworthiness for all to see.
Though Tao Xiu Ping hadn’t directly opposed them, he had gradually revealed all her past beauty to him, showing him piece by piece. What made him give up wasn’t others’ opposition, but rather that the once-brilliant rose had nearly wilted in his hands.
Those six months with her were already an immense blessing for him. In that fleeting time that passed so quickly, every day felt like it was stolen from someone else’s life.
He shouldn’t ask for more.
He only wished that the one he loved would be safe and well through the years, free from illness and worry. He only wished that the one he loved would find her own sun, with light illuminating her path ahead.
And the person who would bring her happiness didn’t have to be him.
If she was a deity, he would willingly prostrate himself in the shadows beneath her altar, being her most devout believer.
But people are greedy.
Even believers are no exception.
After the weekend passed, life became busy again.
Tao Zhi’s job didn’t have weekends. She had given herself two days off and arrived at the studio promptly at 10 AM on Monday.
After graduation, Tao Zhi had opened a studio with a senior photography student she knew from university. It was located in an arts district near the Second Ring Road in the North City area. Though small, with less than ten people including interns, each individual was highly skilled.
When Tao Zhi arrived, everyone was busy — some were out on location shoots, others were doing post-production work at their computers. Xiao Jin had arrived at eight in the morning and ran over to hand her a coffee when she saw her come in.
Tao Zhi took it with thanks, removed her coat, and sat down at her computer to boot it up.
Xu Sui Nian walked over leisurely with a cup of tea, like some kind of Buddha, and said slowly: “Morning, Boss Tao. Working early, are we?”
Tao Zhi checked the time and reminded him: “It’s ten o’clock.”
“Well, I’ve got nothing else to do. I had plans to go to Iceland with your Senior Gu, but he called last night saying he had acute appendicitis and needed surgery, so that fell through,” Xu Sui Nian said casually. “I even pushed back next week’s exhibition for this. Now it’s too late to register for anything else, so I’m just free.”
“By the way,” Xu Sui Nian paused and asked her, “Has Se Se contacted you?”
“No,” Tao Zhi glanced at him. “What’s up with her now?”
An Se Se and Tao Zhi had met in the photography club during university. She was a fanatic fan site photographer who learned photography just to perfectly capture her idol’s gorgeous face. She worked as a freelance photographer, taking outsourced jobs from various magazines and street photography public accounts, and once she earned enough money, she would go back to following her idol.
Xu Sui Nian mumbled: “Oh… nothing much. You’ll probably find out soon.”
Ten minutes later, Tao Zhi indeed received An Se Se’s call.
As soon as she picked up, An Se Se urgently shouted: “Zhi Zhi!!! Master Zhi! Emergency!!!”
Tao Zhi: “Ten photos for 3,200, twenty for 5,000, post-processing and color adjustment included. That’s already a friendship price, no bargaining.”
“All you think about is money!” An Se Se denounced her. “Is money more important than handsome guys? People might think you grew up not having enough to eat.”
“My dad says that if you want to make money, you first need to be greedy,” Tao Zhi said seriously.
“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll pay you. I just took an outsourced job from a financial magazine, but my idol’s schedule changed, and I need to go to the airport right now!” An Se Se said. “Help me out, sister, and may good karma follow you for life.”
Tao Zhi frowned, finding it troublesome: “But I don’t want to go squeeze through airport crowds.”
“Who said anything about squeezing? Of course I want to see my idol in person! I’m talking about the outsourced job.”
Tao Zhi leaned back in her chair and drawled: “Ah, I’m so tired lately, my body feels weak, I have no energy to work.”
“I’ll add the latest street view series LEGO set,” An Se Se said.
Tao Zhi sprang up from her chair and said decisively: “Deal. Send me the address on WeChat.”
An Se Se: “…”
An Se Se moved quickly, sending the address as soon as she hung up, followed by a cute emoji: Two o’clock in the afternoon, love you.
[Zhi Zhi Grape]: What kind of person needs to outsource? Can’t the magazine just find any photographer to take a couple of photos?
[An Se Se]: Some youngest investment director in Ruisheng’s history, headhunted back from abroad at a high price. They’re particular about these things. I only got connected because I used our studio’s name. These finance people are all rich fools anyway, whoever pays is daddy.
[An Se Se]: I have his information here, he’s quite a handsome pot.
An Se Se then sent over a web link.
Tao Zhi didn’t click it, just sent a voice message: “You’re not going for the handsome guy, doesn’t that mean I get lucky?”
An Se Se sent back a voice message, her tone serious: “I am faithful and devoted to my idol alone.”
When Tao Zhi navigated to the office building according to the address, it was quarter past one. She got out of the car and looked up — the reflective glass glared with sunlight, and at the very top of the building stood a grand yet simple sign that read “Ruisheng Investment.”
She closed the car door and walked over. A young woman was standing at the lobby entrance, looking around anxiously.
When Tao Zhi approached, the young woman saw her large equipment bag and asked uncertainly: “Miss An Se Se?”
Tao Zhi couldn’t be bothered to explain the situation and simply nodded.
The girl smiled politely: “I’m from ‘Tomorrow Finance’ magazine, you can call me Xiao Wen. You can’t enter this building without work credentials, so I came down to get you.”
Tao Zhi looked at the work badge on her chest: Wen Ming Yue.
She tilted her head: “We’re not going to your magazine office?”
“Because we want to capture the most authentic working atmosphere, we specially arranged with Ruisheng to shoot at their workplace,” Wen Ming Yue whispered to her. “Originally our editor-in-chief wanted some lifestyle photos too, but that director refused, saying he didn’t want his private life photographed. Even this column took a lot of negotiation to arrange.”
Tao Zhi made an “oh” sound.
What a lone wolf, being so low-key yet still appearing in a financial magazine?
Wen Ming Yue led her into the elevator and pressed the floor button. Tao Zhi had never been to an investment company before, and seeing it now, it was much more hectic than she had imagined. Phone calls were endless, people constantly stood at the printers, and almost everyone’s desk had two or three computers. Fund managers seemed to need two pairs of hands — one for taking calls and making notes, another for typing.
At the desk closest to the window, Tao Zhi saw a familiar face.
Lin Su Yan was looking at her while holding a phone and talking to someone. Seeing her seemed to surprise him, and he waved at her from across the room before continuing his rapid-fire phone conversation.
Tao Zhi winked at him and followed Wen Ming Yue to the innermost office. Large frosted glass windows blocked the view from outside. They had probably been notified in advance — Wen Ming Yue greeted the secretary at the door, who then opened it.
Tao Zhi walked in.
The spacious office was bright and airy, completely different from the cramped busyness outside. The modern minimalist decor, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows onto the dark carpet, two tall black and gold bookshelves behind the desk, and two books casually placed on the coffee table next to an empty teacup.
No one was there.
Tao Zhi put her bag on the coffee table and took out her camera, leisurely attaching the lens.
All equipment was ready, but still no sign of this precious director.
Tao Zhi checked the time — three minutes left.
She leaned back into the sofa and casually scanned the room, her gaze falling on the black wooden desk. There was a nameplate on it, with the title followed by a colon and three characters: Jiang Qi Huai.
“…”
Tao Zhi: …?
Her breath caught, and she stared at those three characters repeatedly.
As if unsure from that distance, Tao Zhi put her camera on the sofa, stood up and walked over, placing both hands on the desk edge and bending down to peer at the nameplate up close.
Just as she picked up the nameplate, the bathroom door in the office clicked shut. Tao Zhi’s neck jerked in surprise as she turned around.
Jiang Qi Huai walked out with a paper towel, methodically drying his fingers one by one before looking up.
Their eyes met, with Tao Zhi still frozen in the position of holding his heavy nameplate, staring at him blankly.
Jiang Qi Huai raised an eyebrow: “An Se Se?”
Tao Zhi looked at him dazedly: “Huh?”
“Ah…”
Jiang Qi Huai threw the damp paper towel into the trash can and walked to her side, looking down at what she was holding: “If you like it, you can have it.”
Tao Zhi put the nameplate down, closed her mouth, and straightened up, saying stiffly: “Sea turtle director?”
“Quasimodo?”
“200-pound boxer?”
“…?”
Jiang Qi Huai tilted his head, his expressionless face full of calm confusion: “Who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that lone wolf who’s going to be in a financial magazine interview but still has to act all low-key,” Tao Zhi said irritably.
Though he didn’t understand what she meant, Jiang Qi Huai was always willing to unconditionally accept whatever role she assigned him. He nodded: “So, your stage name is An Se Se?”
“Stage name my ass, I’m here for my friend.” Tao Zhi turned around with a straight face and walked to the sofa to pick up her camera.
She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so inexplicably irritated. She deeply regretted helping An Se Se with this favor — even if she gave her ten more street view LEGO sets, this job would still be a huge loss.
She sat back down on the sofa and turned her head: “Come here.”
Jiang Qi Huai walked over.
Tao Zhi raised her camera, pointing at the leather sofa opposite her: “Sit down.”
Jiang Qi Huai sat down across from her.
With his broad shoulders and long legs, his formal wear accentuated his figure even more. During her university internship at a fashion magazine, Tao Zhi had photographed countless male models, but looking through the lens now, she found Jiang Qi Huai to be the most photogenic man she had ever shot.
It was as if, after all these years and seeing so many men, she still felt that none could compare to him.
This realization suddenly made Tao Zhi even more depressed.
She peeked out from above the lens, expressionless: “Why are you just sitting there stupidly? Read something.”
Jiang Qi Huai obediently leaned forward to pick up a financial magazine from the coffee table and started reading.
He lowered his eyes, his lips casually turned down, long legs crossed and stretched forward, looking dashingly handsome.
Tao Zhi took several shots from different angles, looked at the camera screen to review them, nodded, and commanded: “Go sit behind your desk.”
Jiang Qi Huai looked up at her, closed the magazine and put it down, then walked to sit behind his desk.
His docile state of letting her arrange him as she pleased made Tao Zhi’s mood slightly better. She got up and dragged a chair over, kneeling on it with one knee, and bent down to find the right angle.
To be fair, Jiang Qi Huai was a very professional model. He didn’t talk much and was very cooperative, doing whatever she asked without a single unnecessary word.
As Tao Zhi directed him to do various things, she slowly got into her work mode. She was very serious when working, her long hair tied back in a ponytail revealing her beautiful profile and fair ears, red lips slightly pressed together, deep black eyes focused only on the scene in her viewfinder.
Jiang Qi Huai leaned back in his chair, holding a pen, his gaze fixed steadily on her without moving an inch.
She tilted her head to capture the last shot: “Alright, that should do it.”
Jiang Qi Huai sat in his chair without moving: “Are you done shooting?”
“Mm,” she scrolled through the photos one by one on her camera, “I’ll select some when I get back, do some post-processing and send them directly to the magazine.”
Jiang Qi Huai felt somewhat reluctant to let it end.
He didn’t want to let her leave just like that. Recalling what his assistant had told him earlier, he asked quietly: “When will you come take my life photos?”
Tao Zhi paused in her photo browsing and looked up at him strangely: “Didn’t you refuse to be photographed outside of work because you didn’t want your private life captured?”
Jiang Qi Huai nodded, his expression calm: “Originally I didn’t want to.”
He put down his pen and looked at her: “Because I didn’t know the photographer would be you.”
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