Be Passionately In Love

Before setting off for Lin Shi, Xu Zhi sat in front of her computer lost in thought for a long time. Old Xu came in with a glass of milk and, seeing her unusually troubled expression, sat down on the edge of her bed with a slight limp. "Something on your mind?"

Could it be because of that boy Chen Luzhou?

Ever since Xu Zhi returned from Old Fu's place, she had been a completely different person.

Next time that kid comes back for a follow-up, I’ll make sure to teach him a lesson.

"Talk to your dad," Old Xu said, setting the milk down and settling in for a heart-to-heart.

It was late at night, the bedside lamp casting a dim glow. The moon hung like a jade plate outside the window, its light clean and bright. Xu Zhi glanced up at it and sighed vaguely. "Dad, what do you think is the point of living?"

Xu Guangji had noticed that in recent years, Xu Zhi had developed a habit of pondering philosophical questions—like why we live, or if the purpose of life is to earn money, then shouldn’t people just die once they’ve earned enough?

They had already engaged in countless heated debates on this topic over the years, each one ending without resolution. He had no idea what had triggered her tonight to bring up this tired old argument again.

Xu Guangji played along. "Sometimes, people don’t just live to earn money—they also live to spend it. Take your Uncle Cai, for example. He loves traveling abroad all year round, buying specialties from around the world. Remember that wooden carving he brought back for you from Nepal? Is it useful? Not at all. But if he didn’t spend money, he’d feel miserable."

Xu Zhi seemed to consider this as she absentmindedly peeled and ate a banana from the table. Between bites, she argued, "But if you’re just going to spend it anyway, why bother earning it in the first place? Wouldn’t skipping the middle step make people much happier?"

Xu Guangji: "…Then why do people eat? Why are you eating that banana? Just to poop? Would you be happy if you skipped the middle step and just ate poop?"

Xu Zhi froze mid-bite, the banana lodged in her mouth. She gave him a reproachful look. "Dad…"

Xu Guangji smirked triumphantly, pulling out a cleaning cloth from his pocket. He took off his glasses and began polishing them methodically, speaking in a patient, fatherly tone. "Living is really just about enjoying the process of fulfilling your desires. But human desires keep escalating. When you were five, all you wanted was candy. Back then, it was easy to cheer you up—just give you a piece of candy, and you’d grin all day. But as you grew older, you became harder to please. Candy wasn’t enough anymore—you wanted to go to amusement parks, wear pretty clothes, have your hair tied up in a tight ponytail every day. If I didn’t do it right, you’d be upset all day. Then you wanted to be class monitor, to boss people around."

Xu Zhi tilted her head, trying to recall. She didn’t remember any of this and strongly suspected her dad was exaggerating. "Was I really like that as a kid?"“There’s video evidence—I’m not wronging you. I still have your elementary school class monitor campaign video saved,” Xu Guangji could still recite those lines by heart, mimicking her childhood tone with exaggerated flair, “‘Hello everyone, my name is Xu Zhi. Napoleon once said, ‘A soldier who doesn’t want to be a general is not a good soldier.’ I may not be as wealthy as Lin Zixuan, but I’m pretty. His money won’t be spent on you, but my beauty is all yours to see—undeniable. I hope you’ll vote for me—’”

“Alright, stop,” Xu Zhi had been quite vain as a child, but she never expected Old Xu to still have such embarrassing relics. “Where’s the tape? Hand it over.”

Xu Guangji ignored her, continuing to wipe his glasses with lowered eyes, his crow’s feet deepening with laughter. “We all grow up being chased by things like this. Take me, for example—sometimes life feels unbearable, but before you know it, you’ve hit fifty. Once you leave for college, the days we’ll see each other will be few. I know you’re feeling a bit lost after the college entrance exams, unsure what to do next. It’s normal. When you’ve spent so long striving for one goal and suddenly achieve it, not knowing how to set the next one, you end up in this state—wondering, ‘What’s the point of living?’”

Xu Zhi glanced at him. “Dad, if I choose to go to Beijing…”

Xu Guangji’s hand paused briefly on the lens before resuming its motion. He smiled as he put his glasses back on. “Go ahead. Beijing’s great. I’ve no objections to wherever you choose. Don’t worry about money—I’ll give you enough for living expenses. And don’t worry about me. I can manage conversations fine now, and there’s always Uncle Cai.”

He placed a hand on Xu Zhi’s shoulder, unusually addressing her by her childhood nickname. “Nannan, the older you get, the harder it is to please you—or rather, the harder it is to satisfy you. What once took just a candy might now require a mountain of sweets to bring you joy. I can’t be the one to cheer you up forever. Someone else will come along, though I hope they take their time.” Noticing her lost in thought, he casually added, “But doesn Beijing’s architecture program require top scores? Or are you reconsidering architecture? Actually, switching fields might be good. Have you thought about finance…?”

Xu Zhi: “No, Chen Luzhou said Qing University’s architecture program is mediocre. I’m considering programs in Beijing or Shanghai.”

Xu Guangji: “…”

On Wednesday, Xu Zhi boarded the bus to the neighboring city, where she met the new photographer—Feng Jin.

Feng Jin wasn’t as handsome as in his photos. In person, his features were rounder, though not overweight. He stood around 1.8 meters tall, with symmetrical features and a soft, rounded jawline that made him approachable and non-threatening. In a crowd, he’d blend in as decent-looking, even handsome.

But the photo he’d sent Cai Yingying had been edited to resemble a top-tier heartthrob like Chen Luzhou. The discrepancy left Cai Yingying disheartened, though she tried not to show it too obviously on the shared ride. Instead, she vented to Xu Zhi over WeChat.Piece of Cake: Turns out he was just a catfish! Boohoo, I really thought we were on a lucky streak lately, bumping into handsome guys left and right.

Gardenia Won't Bloom: He's still pretty good-looking though.

Piece of Cake: Maybe I’ve been looking at Chen Luzhou too much lately—now no one else measures up. Hey, why don’t you ask Chen Luzhou again? We can always keep the photographer position open for him.

Gardenia Won't Bloom: What about Feng Jin?

Piece of Cake: Wow, Xu Zhi, you actually want Chen Luzhou to come, don’t you?

Gardenia Won't Bloom: I guess. I’m just more familiar with him.

They had rented a business van, and the three of them were the only passengers. Feng Jin watched as the two girls feverishly exchanged WeChat messages—ding-dong, buzz—back and forth. Even an idiot could tell they were talking about him, and probably not in a flattering way, otherwise why wouldn’t they just say it to his face?

Feng Jin had chatted with Cai Yingying online before and was somewhat familiar with her, so he called her by name directly. "Cai Yingying, aren’t you going to introduce this pretty girl?"

Xu Zhi was undeniably striking—fair-skinned and delicate, the kind of person you’d notice in a crowd and immediately want to know the name of. The only thing that might not stand out was her face shape—softly oval, with bright eyes and full, defined cheeks. When she smiled, she looked more cute than beautiful, like the girl next door, the type that made some overprotective men want to dote on her.

"Yeah, I’m Xu Zhi," she said herself. She didn’t like being called "little sister." "Xu as in the surname, and Zhi as in gardenia. I handle the writing."

"Nice to meet you. I’m Feng Jin—Feng as in the surname, Jin as in ‘audience.’"

Xu Zhi gave a perfunctory "nice to meet you" before ignoring him and turning back to her phone.

Talk about a beauty with an attitude, Feng Jin thought.

After that lackluster introduction, the atmosphere turned awkward again. So Cai Yingying and Feng Jin started making small talk, rambling about everything from photography to internet celebrities. Feng Jin was quite the talker, not caring whether Cai Yingying was interested or not, nor giving her room to interject. He went on and on about his past travel experiences. He really had been to a lot of places, even telling Cai Yingying he’d climbed Mount Everest, which made her shriek in disbelief. "Really? You’ve been up there?"

Feng Jin realized she might have misunderstood from watching too many movies and clarified, "No, no—just took a bus to the Everest base camp, spent a night there with an oxygen tank." His camera was full of photos he’d taken, and he flipped through them one by one, showing Cai Yingjing. "This was in Ali. We also went to Hoh Xil, but drones are tricky to fly there—some places require permits, which I didn’t realize before. Oh, and this is Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Have you been to Lijiang? If you go next time, avoid peak season—you won’t get cable car tickets."

As the van merged onto the highway, the conversation inside remained one-sided, dominated entirely by Feng Jin’s monologue. Even the driver kept glancing back at him, stepping on the gas with extra enthusiasm.

Compared to Feng Jin, Chen Luzhou was a photographer of few words. According to Zhu Yangqi, Chen Luzhou had traveled extensively too, visiting one or two countries every summer and winter break.Xu Zhi pondered while feeling a vague sense of frustration. She opened WeChat and tapped on Chen Luzhou's profile picture. His Moments cover photo was likely a building he had photographed himself, though Xu Zhi wasn't sure where—judging by the architectural style, it was probably France, given the unique Gothic castle structure. His Moments hadn't been updated, and they hadn't been in touch for a while. Their last conversation was from the previous week.

After descending the mountain, Xu Zhi had actually sent him a message once, asking which model of Hasselblad camera he used. She wasn't very familiar with cameras and could only recognize the brand. Unless it was a mainstream model like Canon or Sony, she wouldn't know. She had only learned about Hasselblad when helping her cousin look for a camera and realized Chen Luzhou used a Hasselblad DSLR. But she didn’t mention she was helping him pick a lens, so Chen Luzhou probably thought she was just casually asking. He only replied with the model number—no extra punctuation or anything.

That night when they photographed the meteor shower, Chen Luzhou had shown her the pictures on his camera. Xu Zhi noticed his camera's storage was nearly full, with almost ten thousand shots taken, and he had a stack of 128GB memory cards in his bag, each labeled with a number. She figured he must really love photography. Yet, unlike Feng Jin, who would drag people around to boast about all the places he'd been and where he'd taken his photos, Chen Luzhou never did that. Maybe he was afraid they wouldn’t be interested. Zhu Yangqi once said Chen Luzhou always seemed to consider others' feelings.

Every time they were together, their conversations revolved around topics she liked, about her life. It felt like she knew nothing about him.

—"Why are you so curious about what I study?"

—"Sometimes, people can’t always do what they love."

—"Then just go for it. Who cares what relatives say?"

—"The choice is yours. Like today, you were waiting for the stars, while I was waiting for the autumn wind. Some people wait stubbornly in the desert for flowers to bloom. Everyone has their own choices, their own scenery."

—"Our futures aren’t decided by anyone else—only by ourselves."

The more Feng Jin rambled on, eager to dump out every photo he’d ever taken and brag about the awards he’d won—how he was now a director of Qingyi City’s Photography Association—the more Xu Zhi found Chen Luzhou annoyingly mysterious.

They arrived in the neighboring city by noon. This time, Xu Zhi and her group were exploring a trendy internet-famous street, scouting hotels and food spots. Partner businesses would pay them, but only if they provided constructive feedback and posted a few social media ads. In other words, they were hired for promotion.

They happened to arrive during the city’s temple fair, so the internet celebrity street was packed, bustling with noise and activity. But the overall environment was… hard to describe. The neighboring city was even smaller than Qingyi, with a downtown that stretched along a single street. An ancient canal ran north to south, flanked by shabby yet quaint low-rise buildings in the "new rural construction" style—black-tiled roofs and white walls standing on either side, much like Qingyi before its renovation.Xu Zhi spent the day idly strolling through the influencer street. After finishing three bowls of snail noodles in different flavors, she had to admit—earning money this way wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

The food was terrible, but she couldn’t write that.

The environment was dirty and chaotic, but she couldn’t write that either.

Just now, the chef had scratched his nose before grabbing a handful of noodles to toss into the pot—and she definitely couldn’t write that.

If she had to praise this influencer street to the skies against her conscience, she’d feel guilty. Xu Zhi sighed in frustration, utterly perplexed. Should she really bend her principles for a paycheck?

So, she sat under the awning of the influencer street, the noisy crowd bustling behind her—parents carrying children, couples holding hands with the elderly, lovers laughing and teasing each other. Cars streamed past on the road beside her, and streetlights flickered on one by one, as if lighting up a path in her heart. Resolute, she pulled out her phone and opened WeChat.

Xu Zhi sent Chen Luzhou a transfer—250 yuan.

Then she set her phone on the table, waiting for his reply. Amid the clamor of the crowd in her line of sight, her heart felt strangely at ease. She was certain Chen Luzhou would have an answer.

About three minutes later, a reply came.

Chen Luzhou: ?

Xu Zhi: Chat fee.

Xu Zhi: Right now.

Xu Zhi: We’re friends, right? Or do you want the full price?