Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 83 Anonymous Information
Lin Lan's gaze darkened, and she tapped her fingertips lightly on the table twice, saying coldly:

“Exceed? You know very well what this ‘exceed’ means. If it really comes to that, the Xuanlu Society will not sit idly by.”

"Discovery is only the first step." The judge's voice carried a hint of suppressed excitement. "The second stage is the real test. There, there lies the 'gift' left by his father, Xu Haoyu... I'm very curious to see what kind of dazzling brilliance the sweet power within him will unleash when he faces that 'legacy'."

Lin Lan remained silent for a moment, then shifted her gaze from the judge back to the tired but upright figure on the screen.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible, “it’s time for us to give him some… ‘right’ guidance. Before he’s utterly destroyed by you, or by himself.”

In the hall, Xu Yan silently accepted the information card from Bai Ling, which carried a subtle probing tone, while nodding slightly at Leng Guang's businesslike "reminder."

Supported by Chen Zhiwei, he turned and left the assessment hall. Eyes still watched him, but no one spoke, no applause, no cheers, only cold scrutiny and speculation.

Walking through the long corridor, I pushed open the isolation door to the lounge. The air inside smelled of disinfectant, cold and real.

The door closed behind me, as if temporarily shutting out the noise and malice from the outside world.

Xu Yan almost collapsed onto the bench, his nerves, which had been taut like a bowstring, suddenly relaxed, bringing with them a strong feeling of exhaustion.

His back was soaked with cold sweat, but he didn't even have the strength to lift his hand.

Chen Zhiwei didn't say a word more than necessary, but quickly pulled out a medical kit and knelt down in front of him.

Her movements were practiced yet somewhat hurried, as if she feared he might collapse completely at any moment.

She dipped a cotton swab in the special disinfectant and carefully touched the bluish-black burn mark on his cheek.

"hiss--"

The stinging sensation from the medicine made Xu Yan instinctively lean back, his brows furrowing tightly.

"do not move."

Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable firmness. One hand steadily supported his chin, her fingertips cool and soft, yet possessing an irresistible strength.

"Don't be so forceful next time." She stared into his eyes, her tone almost reproachful yet pleading. "Your strength lies in precision and control, not in trading injury for injury."

Xu Yan gazed at her quietly, his eyes trembling slightly with her movements.

At that moment, he suddenly realized that it wasn't the medicine that suppressed the pain, but her hand and her voice that pulled him back from the edge of the knife.

"Mmm." He responded softly, his voice exhausted but carrying a rare gentleness. "I understand."

This was not just an answer, but more like a clumsy promise to include her in the most vulnerable part of his life.

Chen Zhiwei lowered her eyes and carefully applied the bio-bandage to his wound, her movements as gentle as if she were wiping an ancient and precious object. Then, she took out the jade cicada from her bosom.

"This is back to you."

She placed the jade cicada back into his palm, her fingertips gently touching his knuckles, as if she were protecting this talisman for him, or as if she were giving him a piece of her heart.

"With it here, you'll feel more at ease... that's why I feel at ease."

Xu Yan lowered his eyes, looking at the warm and smooth jade cicada in his palm, then looked up at her.

The weariness in her eyes was replaced by a deeper tenderness.

He slowly extended his other hand, covering the fingertips of her still resting on his own, his fingertips touching hers, as if transferring his warmth to her.

"Knowing the subtle."

He called her name softly, his voice low and husky, yet carrying a rare certainty: "With you here, I will never forget who I am."

She nodded gently, her eyes firm yet tender, as if she were guarding his heavy feelings for him.

However, in this brief moment of warmth, Xu Yan seemed to hear again the deathly silence of the gaze in the hall. The cold light scrutinizing him, the lark's smile, the stone shield's ferocity, the Iron-Faced Woman's chilling gaze—those gazes did not fade away, but were like brands etched on his back.

He suddenly realized that even though he had left the testing ground, he had not truly left that cold battlefield.

The air still seemed to carry a stagnant, oppressive feeling, making it difficult for him to breathe.

It wasn't until Chen Zhiwei's hand gently touched his cheek again that the slight coolness acted as an anchor, pulling him back to reality from the invisible pressure.

Chen Zhiwei carefully applied the bio-adhesive tape, then habitually picked up his old camera, preparing to clean and maintain it and change the film, just as he had done countless times before.

Just then, the screen of the encrypted terminal that Xu Yan had placed on the table lit up without warning, its dark blue light particularly glaring in the dim room.

An anonymous message, its source highly encrypted, popped up like an uninvited ghost.

There are no words.

There is only one blurry, noisy black and white photo, full of the feeling of the past.

The background of the photo is the setting of an old-fashioned photo studio, with the back of a young man occupying the center.

On his shoulder was an old-fashioned camera that was almost identical to the one in Xu Yan's hand.

Below the photo, a line of cold coordinates appears, like an inscription carved on a tombstone.

Xu Yan's breathing suddenly stopped.

The figure was blurry, but he could see that the person's shoulder strap was tied crookedly, and that the person habitually tilted their head slightly, as if listening to some non-existent sound.

This detail is more fatal than blood ties.

Because that was a unique habit of his father, deep in his memory.

Almost at the same moment, Chen Zhiwei, who was about to unscrew the lens cap, suddenly stopped.

She let out a very soft, incredulous gasp.

"Yan-ge!" Her voice tightened, "Look here!"

She handed him the photograph that had just sealed the "evil spirit in the mirror," her fingertip tracing the edge of the paper.

There, besides the lingering chill of the ghost itself, there was a faint, yet strikingly dark red energy trace, almost like a bloodshot thread.

That dark red hue wasn't still; rather, it spread slowly across the paper like blood vessels, wriggling slightly, as if the eyes of a demon were still watching them through the photograph.

Xu Yan picked up the terminal. On the screen, his father's silent back and the dark red energy on the photograph paper, like a leech, flashed alternately in his eyes.

He tried again to recall that summer afternoon of his childhood that had been stolen by the camera.

However, all that responded to him was a cold, silent void, as if a part of his life had been ripped out of thin air, leaving only a throbbing, aching gap.

This gap reminded him that he was slowly losing himself.

He raised his head and looked at Chen Zhiwei, all weariness burned away in his eyes, leaving only a tempered coldness and determination.

"I must go."

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to capture that summer afternoon stolen by the camera, but his mind was a neatly cut-out blank. The helplessness and fear of that moment pierced his chest like nails.

He opened his eyes, his voice low and deep, yet striking like a hammer blow: "Before losing all my memories, forgetting you, forgetting who I am... I must go there to find the answer."

This is not only to pursue the truth about our parents, but also to snatch back the life named "Xu Yan" from the ever-flowing time on the desperate path of coexisting with "Yuan" and battling against fate.

(End of this chapter)