Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 121 Past Events

"You must have been very surprised at the time, recognizing her at a glance. This legendary school beauty was actually here, and practicing so late. You walked over and stood behind her to look at her painting. You thought it was alright, but something felt off, as if she was stuck at some bottleneck and couldn't find the problem."

"So, you stood behind her and whispered, 'Perhaps... the styling needs a little more work.'"

"These words seemed to startle her."

She turned around abruptly, and when she saw it was you, her eyes widened in surprise.

But soon, that surprise turned into another kind of light, and she recognized you too.

She looked at you, her eyes sparkling, and said, "We seem to go to the same school. How about... you help me revise it?"

"You didn't stand on ceremony either, taking the pen and starting to revise the drawing. The pen tip scratched on the paper, and in no time, the originally unremarkable plaster cast sketch became three-dimensional and vivid, as if it had been infused with a soul, and was very outstanding."

She was overjoyed. Looking at the painting, then at you, she asked, "What's your name?"

You said, "Xu Yan."

"She exclaimed 'Ah!' her face filled with disbelief, 'You're Xu Yan! All the excellent sample paintings on the wall of our classroom are signed by you! I was wondering who this Xu Yan was, so mysterious... I never expected it to be you!'"

Xu Yan listened quietly as Chen Zhiwei recounted her story vividly, his brows furrowing slightly, as if he were trying to dredge up memories from the depths of his mind, but they remained empty.

"And then?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"And then?" Chen Zhiwei's gaze drifted to the window, as if she could travel through time and see that youthful and beautiful period. "Later, you often taught her to draw. As for her, she probably wanted to 'repay' you, so she would knock on your dormitory door early every morning and drag you, still half asleep, to the stone bridge by the pond to tutor you in your academic subjects that you were struggling with."

"It sounds like a perfectly normal story," Xu Yan said softly, with a hint of self-deprecation. "It's not like... they would seal all her photos in this cabinet."

Chen Zhiwei withdrew her gaze and looked at Xu Yan, her eyes filled with a complex and unreadable expression: "I haven't finished yet."

"Later, you both got into your dream universities. The first thing you did when you received your acceptance letter was to call her. You talked for a long time on the phone... Only you know what you talked about."

Her tone gradually turned somber, taking on a chill, yet she seemed to be deliberately suppressing something.

"That summer, one night..."

She paused, her breathing quickening slightly, as if she were gathering her courage to uncover a corner she didn't want to talk about.

“You feel something is constantly approaching you. That gaze doesn’t come from a dream, but rather from the other end of the lens—you can even hear the subtle ‘click’ of the shutter being half-pressed, hanging in the air, as if waiting for your expression.”

Her speech suddenly quickened, and her voice became somewhat strained:
"You want to struggle, to wake up, but the darkness around you is like a photographic sheet, sealing you inside. You can even see yourself behind an invisible glass—those eyes are looking at you through the lens."

Finally, you managed to break free, almost with all your might. The moment you awoke, you screamed into the empty darkness—'Get away!'

She lowered her head, her voice becoming very soft, "That night, you couldn't fall asleep again." "The next day, you were restless, probably because the nightmare was too real. You were absent-minded all day, and didn't even go back to your room, leaving your phone on the bed. When you felt a little better in the evening, you went back to look for your phone, only to find... it had been bombarded with missed calls and text messages."

Chen Zhiwei's voice trembled slightly at this point:

"You'll only find out if you call back immediately..."

She paused for a moment, as if it took immense courage to say what she was about to say:

"He Mengyao passed away the night before due to a car accident."

Xu Yan's body swayed almost imperceptibly.

"Because of local custom, if someone who is not yet married passes away, they need to be cremated and buried the next day. All your classmates and friends are trying to contact you, hoping you can come and say your final goodbyes... but in the end, no one can reach you for the entire day."

Xu Yan remained silent, like a soulless statue. After a long while, he finally spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse: "So in the end...did I make it?"

Chen Zhiwei slowly and heavily shook her head.

“No. You hung up the phone and ran out like a madman, rushing there as fast as you could... but in the end, you still couldn't make it. By the time you got there, the ceremony was over, and you didn't even... find the new grave.”

“From then on, you completely changed. You were absent-minded all day long, as if your soul had been taken away. Your aunt was heartbroken to see you like that, and she was afraid that you would be reminded of the past, so she packed up all the photos that He Mengyao had given you, as well as the sweaters and scarves that she had knitted for you by hand... and sent them to the photo studio, asking your grandfather to help... to preserve them.”

"As for your memory of her, how exactly did you lose it..." Chen Zhiwei looked at Xu Yan, her eyes filled with helplessness and pity, "Was it something you chose to forget, or was it because the trauma was too great, or... something else? Grandpa didn't elaborate, so I... don't know."

The story is over.

The photo studio was deathly silent, with only the second hand of the old wall clock ticking away, each step feeling like a blow to the heart.

Xu Yan looked down at the completely unfamiliar smiling face in the photo, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of the photograph.

Silence spread between the two, with only the ticking of the old wall clock filling the void.

He suddenly raised his head, his gaze fixed precisely on Chen Zhiwei. His eyes were no longer lost in memories, but rather clear and sharp, with a scrutinizing look.

“Zhiwei,” he began, his voice soft, yet like a pebble dropped into a still lake, “the details you’ve recounted… are too specific. So specific that it doesn’t sound like a retelling, but more like…” He paused, searching for the right words, “…the recollections of someone who experienced it firsthand.”

The color seemed to drain from Chen Zhiwei's face for a moment.

She subconsciously looked away, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes—a subtle gesture that betrayed her inner tension.

"I..." Her voice was a little tight, and she forced a smile, "I just... I just pay more attention to you. You know, I've always..."

(End of this chapter)