Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 11 Ghostly Shadow Mirror
Xu Yan's heart suddenly raced. He couldn't take his eyes off the box.

He could feel that the dark silver camera in his pocket was also emitting a faint warmth at this moment.

He reached out, his fingertips touching the cool wooden surface. The brass clasp seemed to come alive, making a soft "hum" as it automatically popped open under his fingertips.

The moment the lid was opened, an indescribable aura wafted out.

It wasn't a musty smell, but rather the fragrance of ancient camphor wood, aged paper, and special medicine mixed with an energy fluctuation similar to a "developer".

The sight inside the box made Xu Yan gasp for breath.

The top layer was not the heavy books one might imagine, but rolls of dark film with a peculiar material. They rolled slowly on their own, their surfaces shimmering with iridescent light, occasionally flashing with extremely fast yet clear dynamic images: distorted ghostly figures, ancient rituals, exploded diagrams of camera structures... like living negatives.

Beneath the film were several notebooks.

But it is not static.

His master's familiar handwriting would occasionally twist and recombine slightly on the page, like a poorly connected image. When his gaze focused, more detailed annotations or warning blood-red exclamation marks would appear on their own next to some key paragraphs.

On one side of the box, several strangely shaped metal lens accessories lay quietly, covered with runes never seen before.

As Xu Yan's gaze swept over them, one of the dark gold wide-angle lenses suddenly rotated very slightly on its own, and an invisible ripple spread out. Xu Yan's field of vision widened instantly, and he could clearly see every scratch on the counter, the trembling of Chen Zhiwei's eyelashes, and the faint traces of energy belonging to the ghosts of last night that had not yet completely dissipated in the air.

Although it was only for a moment, it horrified him.

He picked up the most ancient-looking book, the one with a cover made of some kind of ghost beast skin—"The Mirror of the Netherworld".

The moment his finger touched it, the pages turned automatically without any wind, quickly flipping through them until they stopped in front of a complex diagram of light and shadow—a dissecting image of the camera in his hand.

The master's handwriting appeared beside it, the ink as fresh as new:
"The Soul-Sealing Camera is not an inanimate object. It uses obsession as a mirror, memory as a blade, and forgetting as its price."

"Beginner Level: Soul Locking. But with each soul captured, a memory is eroded. What is forgotten? The camera chooses to capture it, and it is also a reflection of your heart."

"To advance to the 'shadow lens,' you need a wide-angle lens to capture the soul, but the price is much higher: not just fragments, but the memories of an entire life, or you may lose your name forever."

Beside the text, the image from the dark gold wide-angle lens emitted a faint glow, and a stream of information flowed directly into Xu Yan's mind: it was not text, but a perception.

He felt as if he were standing on a surging subway platform, facing countless twisted and rushing "congestion ghosts." He raised his camera, switched to a wide-angle lens, and the powerful suction pulled out the ghostly figures, simultaneously emptying his mind of all the laughter and joy of his four years of university, leaving only a blank space and a blurry image of himself in his graduation photo...

Xu Yan abruptly pulled his hand back, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his heart pounding wildly.

This isn't learning, it's experience! It's a near-brutal rehearsal!
He was breathing heavily, the emptiness of having his memories forcibly stripped away lingering in his mind.

He suddenly raised his head, his gaze shooting towards Chen Zhiwei like lightning.

"You knew all along." This wasn't a question, but a statement, his voice slightly hoarse from the shock of the moment. "You knew all along that this camera could be upgraded?"

Chen Zhiwei was taken aback by his sudden question: "...Why do you ask that?" "That flash!" Xu Yan pointed to the metal sealed box in the corner, "When dealing with the Shadowbound Ghost, the external flash you took out, and all those connection operations! Master never taught me these things, yet you were able to use them skillfully in conjunction with the camera... You had already been in contact with the things in the box, right? You knew all along that the camera was more than just this!"

Chen Zhiwei remained silent for a moment, her gaze avoiding his sharp eyes with a complicated expression, before finally nodding slowly.

“Grandpa… didn’t want me to tell you beforehand. He said that some roads you have to walk alone to the very end, to see the ‘end,’ before he can show you the way, and only then will you believe and dare to walk.” She stroked the edge of the box and whispered, “The flash and frequency calibration method are among the basic applications recorded in the box, the standard procedure for dealing with ‘Shadow Eater’ type ghosts. Grandpa… maybe he didn’t have time, or… felt it wasn’t the right time to tell you.”

Xu Yan closed his eyes, processing the information.

The master's arrangements always carried a profound, even somewhat cruel, consideration.

He looked into the box again, his gaze sweeping over the strange film reels and twisting notes, finally settling on the few old lenses.

He noticed that next to those lenses lay a thin, dark purple piece of material that resembled jade but wasn't. It was the perfect size to fit into an auxiliary slot on the top of the camera, and it was engraved with fine cloud patterns with a tiny hole in the center.

He picked it up instinctively.

The moment his fingertips touched it, unlike other objects that sent a strong flow of information or hallucinations, instead, a very faint, calming coolness spread up his arm, relieving the stinging pain in his temples caused by the overwhelming amount of information.

Meanwhile, on the pages of *The Mirror of Shadows and Light*, a line of previously hidden text appeared in the section about camera analysis diagrams:

"A calming agent: It soothes the mind and helps to temporarily slow the backlash of the tide of 'forgetting'. However, like ice covering a boiling cauldron, it is not a long-term solution."

It turned out to be the case.

This is not some miraculous artifact, but merely a temporary "buffer." It might prevent him from immediately forgetting the most crucial things after overusing the camera, but it cannot stop the eventual loss of his memory.

The cost remains a constant theme.

Chen Zhiwei watched him pick up the calming tablet and explained softly, "Grandpa said that this thing shouldn't be used too often, as it can make people dependent on it and prevent them from seeing the true weight of the 'cost'."

Xu Yan silently put it away; this small safeguard might save a life in a critical moment.

Chen Zhiwei watched the shock, horror, and realization flash across his face.

“Grandpa said,” she began softly, breaking the silence, “we are not just ordinary photographers. We are ‘grave keepers’ and ‘grave robbers.’ This city needs someone to remember what has been forgotten, and it also needs someone… to cut off what should not exist.”

His gaze finally returned to Chen Zhiwei. "'Tomb keeper' is also 'tomb raider.' What does that mean? What exactly are we?"

Chen Zhiwei raised her head and looked at the entire wall of filing cabinets, her gaze becoming distant and heavy.

“‘Gravekeepers’ is because we guard these things.” She pointed to the file folders. “We remember their names, collect their images, so that they don’t completely disappear and become something even more terrifying, disturbing the peace of the living. This is ‘guarding’ the soul of this city.”

(End of this chapter)