Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 120 That Girl
“That’s right.” Chen Zhiwei closed the note, his tone decisive. “But at the same time, we need intelligence. Blindly pursuing ranks is meaningless. I need to find out which factions within the center are recruiting new people, and which ‘Gold-level’ members truly hold real power and resources, rather than just having titles. Finding the right patron and mentor is more important than completing a hundred ordinary missions.”

Her thinking was clear and meticulous, and she instantly broke down Xu Yan's seemingly impulsive goal into actionable and intelligent steps.

Looking at her focused profile, Xu Yan felt a surge of emotion mixed with gratitude and guilt.

He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear, his movement tender.

“Zhiwei,” his voice was low, “thank you… for not stopping me.”

Her lips trembled, and her breathing became slightly erratic, as if she were trapped in a dark room with no exit in sight.

She instinctively wanted to take a half step back, but his gaze froze her in place—a gaze so intense that even the air dared not move.

Chen Zhiwei raised her eyes to meet his gaze, which held worry, but even more so, a determination to fight alongside him.

"Don't give me that." She gently slapped his hand away, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Remember, you owe me one. Once you become that 'gold level' one, you'll cover all the rent for the photo studio."

At this moment, the tense atmosphere dissipated, replaced by a tacit understanding and shared responsibility that needed no words.

Their goals are now aligned; the next step is to proceed cautiously and systematically to achieve them.

The tense atmosphere subtly shifted, replaced by an unspoken understanding.

The road ahead remains treacherous, but at this moment, they are in the same boat.

This newly reached consensus is like a pebble thrown into a still lake; the ripples have not yet subsided.

"Clap."

The sound of the camera shutter was particularly jarring in the silence.

Xu Yan and Chen Zhiwei turned their heads at the same time.

The old-fashioned camera on the counter lay quietly, its indicator light glowing with an eerie red light. No one touched it, but a piece of photographic paper was slowly being ejected from the outlet, glistening with the dampness of fresh medicine.

Chen Zhiwei's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly stepped forward.

As the image on the photographic paper gradually became clear in the air, her breath caught in her throat.

The image shows her and Xu Yan standing side by side in front of the counter, their backs to the viewer. On Xu Yan's shoulder, a pair of pale, long-fingered hands are clearly visible.

The hands were not the slender hands of a young girl, but rather possessed an inhuman, almost perfect symmetry, with the fingertips carrying a subtle, almost imperceptible, ethereal quality that seemed to absorb light.

“This thing…” Xu Yan stared at the photo, his pupils slightly contracted, his voice low and cold, “…is becoming clearer and clearer.”

"Squeak——!"

He whirled around and ripped open the heavy old elm filing cabinet. Dust and a musty smell rushed out, but his hand remained remarkably steady and focused, reaching directly to a corner and precisely pulling out an exceptionally old, faded parchment file with worn edges.

Chen Zhiwei's expression changed drastically, and she lunged forward to try and grab his hand: "Senior brother! No! Grandpa said..."

Xu Yan's hand froze in mid-air. He turned his head, his eyes displaying a complexity Chen Zhiwei had never seen before, churning with pain, resolve, and a trace of... almost cruel clarity.

“Zhiwei,” his voice was hoarse, “this thing on my shoulder isn’t the first time it’s appeared. I’ve seen what it looks like. It’s related to ‘Yuan,’ but I feel… it’s not entirely her, yet it’s related to her.”

“Yuan?” Chen Zhiwei was stunned by the word and couldn’t understand it for a moment. Xu Yan raised his eyes and looked at Chen Zhiwei, his eyes filled with a clarity she had never seen before, a mixture of determination and exhaustion: “Don’t worry, I can face her directly.”

Chen Zhiwei was stunned.

Xu Yan doesn't seem like a victim haunted by ghosts; he's more like a pathfinder determined to reopen old wounds and find answers.

Xu Yan tore open the seal.

A stack of yellowed photographic paper scatters on the ground with a "clatter," like withered leaves, their edges slightly curled in the dim light, exuding an aura of old light and shadow mixed with sadness.

As light and shadow intertwine, the blurry profile of a girl emerges.

She turned back and smiled on a sunny afternoon, her eyes crinkling, brimming with a bright vitality that Xu Yan had long lost in his life.

But that smile was forever frozen on the yellowed photograph, solidified into an eternal past.

Xu Yan squatted down, picked up the photos, and ran her fingertips over the smiling face.

A strong, soul-deep throbbing enveloped him, but the related memories were a blank, like a washed-out cassette tape, leaving only disturbing noise.

"I think I have a vague memory of it, but I can't remember anything."

He murmured, his voice tinged with a confused pain.

Chen Zhiwei leaned down, her voice so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something, yet it carried a cruel calmness: "Senior brother... she won't be coming back."

Xu Yan raised his head and looked calmly at Chen Zhiwei: "Zhiwei, it's alright. Can you tell me about her?"

Chen Zhiwei's eyes struggled, filled with hesitation.

She carefully gathered up the scattered photos one by one, her movements slow and deliberate, and whispered, "Grandpa instructed... that this matter must be kept a secret from you forever."

“Zhiwei,” Xu Yan’s voice was unusually steady, carrying a weariness and determination that came from seeing through the fog, “I know your worries, and I know what I’m doing right now. Please rest assured, I’m mentally prepared.”

Chen Zhiwei looked into his deep and clear eyes, which no longer held the panic she was familiar with, the panic of being chased by shadows, but a settled strength.

She took a deep breath, knowing there was no going back.

She gently placed the carefully collected photos on the counter, as if settling an extremely fragile piece of the past.

"Her name is... He Mengyao."

The moment the name was uttered, the air seemed to freeze for a moment.

“I guess you could call her your…girlfriend.” Chen Zhiwei chose her words carefully, her tone carrying a distant sense of reminiscence. “But actually, you two never really confirmed that kind of relationship from beginning to end.”

"She is exceptionally talented and beautiful, and is the undisputed school beauty of your school. She has top grades and often goes on stage as a student representative to receive awards at school assemblies. She shines brightly, as if she is from a different world than us."

Chen Zhiwei's voice gradually faded into the past:
“You two met during a summer art training camp. At that time, you were very diligent in your drawing and you drew exceptionally well. You were always the last one to leave the studio. One day, after you finished packing up, you noticed that the light in another studio at the end of the corridor was still on. You assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, so you went over to check it out.”

"Push open the door and you'll see her—He Mengyao, sitting alone in front of the easel, practicing sketching with great concentration in front of a plaster statue."

(End of this chapter)