Chapter 74: Yu Fan, Why The F*** Didn’t You Stay Far Away
November in Ningcheng was nothing but blue skies.
Ningcheng sits by the sea. Other cities had already slipped into winter. Here it still hovered above twenty degrees every day. Come winter, the city always filled with people.
Under the sun the blue water glittered. Every crest tossed up a fine hiss, like scales flashing, then folded back into the sea.
On the sand the woman smoothed her dress, lifted her hair, and looked up to say something. When she saw her photographer for the day, the words dried up.
The young man in front of her was all legs and height, wearing a loose gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, a slice of pale, lean forearm showing.
He had thrown on a beanie like he did not care. Most of his hair was tucked under it, a few messy strands spilling across his brow. Head bent, he checked the last batch on his camera while the water paused between sets.
The hat left his face uncovered. Clean brows, cold, sharp lines, the kind of handsome that made strangers look twice.
She had hired plenty of outdoor photographers. He was the fairest she had ever seen, fair to the point of looking cool and bloodless when he was not smiling.
Every passerby glanced at him without meaning to. For a second she was not sure which of them was the one being photographed.
While she was dazed, he looked up. Those clear, black eyes cut straight to her.
A wavelet tapped her ankle. He raised the camera. Her heart skipped, she lifted her skirt hem and smiled on instinct. The shutter clicked, bright and crisp.
“How is it, did you get it? Lemme see.” As the water pulled back, she jogged over, holding her dress. She did not look at the camera first. She stared at the photographer’s face.
He stepped aside with no fuss, kept a polite half-step of distance, and tilted the screen toward her.
Her gaze still snagged on the two moles on his cheek until an arm hooked casually around her neck from behind and a lazy female voice sounded. “Well?”
Only then did she look down. Her eyes flew wide. “It looks… great.”
“You look great, that is the point.” Wang Yue flicked her eyes up at the boy and made a small signal. She took the camera. “This set is about done. Yu Fan, buy us two lemonades?”
Yu Fan murmured an okay and turned to go. His sleeve was caught.
“Wait, lend me your hat.” Wang Yue’s expression said the sun had defeated her. “What is with this year. It is November and I am roasting. My hair is frying.”
Before she finished, he tugged off the beanie. His hair fell out in a thick, unruly spill, just brushing his nape, that fluffy fringe shadowing his eyes and making it even harder not to look.
As he walked off, Wang Yue’s childhood friend slung an arm around her neck.
“Wang Yue. You have a little brother this handsome in your studio and you did not tell me? If I had known I would have flown home sooner.”
“I did tell you,” Wang Yue perched the hat on her head as a sunshade and did not bother to pull it down, “go scroll our chats. Six years ago I said a pretty good-looking kid joined the studio.”
“Pretty good-looking? He is stupidly, explosively good-looking.”
The woman paused. “But why is he shooting? With that face and body he should model.”
“He did when he first came in to part-time. Then he switched. Besides, he is doing just fine now. Do you know how many internet celebs try to book him every day? This slot is me opening the back door for you. Otherwise you would be waiting two months.”
“Oh.” She pulled out her phone. “Then open the back door again and give me his contact.”
“Forget it.” Wang Yue held up a number with her fingers. “Half the people who want to flirt with him are men. In all the time he has been with me I have never seen him warm to anyone. Not dating, nothing.”
“I will be the exception. Younger guys are my specialty. Is he legal?”
“Please. He graduated college. In half a month he turns twenty-four.”
“Great. Give me two weeks and I will— wait.” A critical thought struck. She dropped her voice. “He grew his hair out like that. Is he… you know, gay?”
“Should not be. Half the ones who aim for him are men and he ignores them too. Also,” Wang Yue paused, “a few years back there was a male client with grabby hands. First time, while reviewing raws, the guy patted him on the ass. Yu Fan warned him. Second time…”
“Called the cops?”
“He knocked the client’s front teeth out,” Wang Yue said, perfectly calm.
“…” The woman put her phone down very quietly, then managed, “That is brutal.”
That was not even the worst of it.
Arms folded, Wang Yue watched Yu Fan’s back at the counter as he waited for lemonade, and could not help remembering the first time they met. He had stood just like that. Only back then it was in front of the intake desk at the police station.
They finished at sunset. The sun sat half in the sea, painting the small city red.
Back at the studio, the woman leaned to the monitor to review the raws. Remembering what her friend had said, she kept a touch of space between herself and Yu Fan.
Wang Yue had not lied. He was young, but his eye for light and composition was sure. Even the model’s flyaway hairs seemed to glow.
She took a breath and fished out a pack of cigarettes, offering one. “Here, little brother.”
Wang Yue walked past, plucked the cigarette right out of Yu Fan’s fingers, and bit down on it herself. “He quit. Let me have this blessing.”
“Damn.” The woman lit her own. “You are not local, are you? You do not sound it.”
The mouse hesitated, almost too quick to catch. He finally answered, cool and flat. “Nancheng.”
“No wonder. Folks from Nancheng run fairer.” She smiled. “Let me buy you dinner, little brother. I mean both you and Wang Yue. And, you know… make these look as good as you can for me.”
“No need.” Yu Fan said, “Pick your favorites.”
Two more hours went to selects. After they agreed on a delivery date, Yu Fan slung his bag over one shoulder, turned down Wang Yue’s invite to dinner, and left.
The studio sat on a lively little street. A cold moon hung overhead. Food scents drifted like ribbon all the way down. Ningcheng was a small city. There were no Nancheng-size towers. The streets all felt like the old neighborhood he grew up in.
Yu Fan turned right out the door and slipped into the evening crowd.
This town was not particularly open-minded. With that thick, mid-length hair and that face, he drew stares everywhere he walked.
He ignored them. He bought a roast-meat rice box, grabbed two milks at the supermarket, then cut through into a loft complex.
He had not grown up in Ningcheng, but his grandfather had, and used to tell him the customs and little flavors of the place. It half counted as home. When he chose to leave, it was the first place that came to mind.
The first two years he lived in his grandfather’s tile-roof house. Only after he sent back that thirty thousand did he find this loft. The owner knew Wang Yue and gave him a break on the rent. He had stayed ever since.
Twenty-odd square meters was tight for a boy his height, but the split level made it workable. He keyed in, flicked the lights, and the cool, clean palette snapped into view, nothing but white, gray, and black.
He put the food on the table and sat straight down at the computer to edit.
He had been saving for a new camera, so he had taken on more work and pulled late nights retouching for weeks. By the time he hit his quota today, the rice had gone cold.
He shoveled a few mouthfuls, washed it down with milk for the sake of his stomach, grabbed clothes and showered. When he came out, his phone showed a few new messages.
[Wang Yue: Fan-bao, you free tomorrow?]
[-: Say the thing. And do not call me that.]
[Wang Yue: Tsk. What else would I want. Overtime tomorrow.]
[Wang Yue: Another internet friend of mine is flying to Ningcheng. We are planning a beach barbecue. She is like my childhood friend, an influencer. They want material for Weibo. I thought I would have you shoot. Of course I will pay. Treat it like a private booking.]
Wang Yue had just gotten her nails done. She pecked the screen with raised fingers. But you have been working nonstop and have not had a day off in two weeks. If you are tired we can—
[-: Keep your money. Time and place.]
They set it. Yu Fan took a freshly printed batch from his bag and headed upstairs.
He had mounted a black felt board on the wall opposite the bed. Strings hung from pins, and he had clipped shot after shot to the lines. Mostly landscapes he had taken on walks. It was nearly full.
He clipped today’s sunset without thinking, then towel-dried his hair and looked the wall over, ready to pull a few down.
His eyes paused. His hands stopped.
There were only two photos with people.
One was six backs in an amusement park, drenched in golden light, free and easy, like they had no worries in the world.
The other did not even count as a face. It was only a very close, out-of-focus white shirt. The night-market rides behind were a blur too, a clear misfire of a shot.
No face showed, yet the instant he looked at it his mind filled in every line.
Six years ago, and it still felt new.
He stared at that slash of white until his eyes stung. At last he moved. He lifted a finger and scraped the paper very lightly. Then he took down the two street scenes next to it.
The next day, Yu Fan reached the beach at the appointed time. Wang Yue and her childhood friend had already set the grill.
He helped haul their food, then picked a patch of shade and checked his settings.
Behind him the noise spiked. The other internet friend must have arrived.
Sure enough, he heard Wang Yue. “Baby. I thought you would be later.”
“As if. I am already late. I did not expect your airport to jam up too, I was going crazy.” The new voice said, “Where is the super hot photographer you promised.”
Yu Fan’s head snapped up. His eyelids jerked. That voice hit him like a live wire. He took a step to leave on reflex.
“There.” Wang Yue called behind him. “Yu Fan… hey? Yu Fan, where are you—”
“F***!” the newcomer shrieked.
Wang Yue jumped. “What are you—”
She never finished. Her friend launched like a rocket, the sweet little floral dress whipping in the wind like it was about to slap someone.
Yu Fan snapped out of it a beat too late and could not dodge. She barreled in, hooked his neck, and hauled him down, elbow clamped like she meant to choke him out.
“Yu Fan!” Zhang Xianjing screamed in his ear. “Why the f*** didn’t you stay far, far away!”
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