Be Passionately In Love

Xu Zhi remained oblivious, pulling out her phone to transfer the meal money to him. She believed that between any two people, only a split-bill relationship could last the longest. Though she didn’t know why, she still wanted to maintain this long-term meal-buddy dynamic with Chen Luzhou.

A ding sounded from Chen Luzhou’s WeChat in his pocket. Xu Zhi said, “I transferred the money.”

Chen Luzhou: “…”

So, after returning to the team, Chen Luzhou grabbed someone—a guy who was also quite handsome, though leaner and darker. Young but with plenty of dating experience, his name was Yan Letong.

“What does it mean when a girl insists on splitting the bill with you?” Yan Letong said, a cigarette dangling from his lips, speaking with absolute certainty as he analyzed the situation. “It means she doesn’t want to see you again. If she were interested, either you’d pay, or she would—that way, there’d be a reason to meet up next time.”

Really?

Chen Luzhou was adjusting the drone he’d use for aerial filming later. These past two days, he’d been helping a motorcycle team with aerial shots, a gig introduced by Fu Yuqing. His friend’s motorcycle team had been looking for an aerial photographer, and Chen Luzhou had agreed without hesitation. There were a few other photographers on the team, but Chen Luzhou was only responsible for the drone footage. The team was full of young people, and surprisingly, the photographers were all young too. Within just one evening, everyone had already clicked.

After finishing his spiel, even Yan Letong found it a little unbelievable. Watching Chen Luzhou standing there, meticulously adjusting the equipment, he couldn’t help but feel baffled. “There are actually girls who aren’t interested in you?”

Who knew. Chen Luzhou fixed the drone’s position at the entrance of the U-shaped track.

Yan Letong couldn’t wrap his head around it. On Chen Luzhou’s first day with the team, the female photographers—usually listless—had suddenly become unusually attentive, even to the rest of them. How could he tell? These female photographers were the team’s regulars, covering all their matches. They usually got along well off-duty, maintaining a calm and harmonious dynamic where no one wanted to disrupt the balance—after all, they still had to work together. So whenever they came to shoot, they never bothered with makeup. But the moment they heard a hot guy had joined the team, the next day, every single one showed up with flawless makeup, looking picture-perfect.

Chen Luzhou crouched down, then sat on the grass, one hand propping him up while the other held the remote. Gazing up at the drone in the sky, he chuckled and said, “She’s not like other girls. No matter how much you tease her, she never gets mad. She’s… interesting.”

Yan Letong, a seasoned veteran in romance, grinned and schooled him: “That’s where you’re wrong. Before dating you, a girl’s heart is as vast as the universe. No matter how much you tease her, she’ll just smile and say, ‘It’s fine, I don’t mind.’ But once you start dating, her heart shrinks to the size of a needle’s eye.” He even gestured for emphasis, his expression dead serious. “Then, no matter what you do, it’s wrong. Everything makes her angry.”

Chen Luzhou sat on the grass, one leg stretched out, the other bent, his elbow resting on his knee. After a test flight, he brought the drone down, still focused on the footage on the remote. Without looking up, he asked, “Do you know why that is?”

“Why?”When the drone landed, Chen Luzhou finally put down the remote control and said, "Because you are her universe. You filled up her universe, so naturally, her heart has no room for anything else. Blame yourself for that."

Yan Letong suddenly had an epiphany and shamelessly followed Chen Luzhou around, flattering him. "Damn, bro, you're so smooth."

Chen Luzhou: "...I guess. Go pick up the equipment for me."

"OK, teach me more later, bro."

"Give it a rest. I don’t even understand it myself."

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Chen Luzhou had a hunch it was Xu Zhi, so he pulled it out to check—sure enough.

Xu Zhi: Chen Luzhou, I just got interrogated by Yingying. She found out I’m coming to see you tomorrow and said she wants to tag along. Can we bring her?

Cr: Up to you.

Xu Zhi: …Our photographer… overheard it too.

Already calling him "our photographer" this fast?

Cr: …Whatever you want. How many times do I have to say it?

After sending the message, Chen Luzhou tossed his phone into his bag, not wanting to look at it anymore or reply further. He decided he wouldn’t respond if she messaged again.

However, Xu Zhi never sent another message. By the time she did, it was already half an hour later, and by then, Chen Luzhou was already in the middle of filming. The motorcycle training ground was rented at a high daily cost. Their team had limited funding to begin with, but for the 10th-anniversary commemorative video, the captain had emptied his savings. Everyone cherished every minute there, with the riders training day and night to showcase their best form on camera.

From his first day there, Chen Luzhou knew the conditions were tough. While the female photographers stayed in small motels, the guys slept in a large shared dorm upstairs. The meals were mostly simple, but that was manageable. The real challenge was the filming environment. Although the training base was in the suburbs of a neighboring city, surrounded by dilapidated single-story buildings in a desolate, overgrown area with few people around, there was a nearby military zone. Drones couldn’t take off freely—flight paths had to be approved, and filming was mostly prohibited during the day, only allowed after 9 p.m.

Once filming was in full swing, the entire team operated like clockwork. No one stopped to wait for anyone, least of all the riders, whose peak performance moments were fleeting. If a shot was missed, it might take two more months of training to replicate the same results. Just yesterday, a photographer had missed capturing a rider’s best performance, and the rider had been so furious they got into a fight. The two still hadn’t spoken since.

……

By the time Chen Luzhou saw Xu Zhi’s later reply, it was almost midnight. He had just wrapped up, finishing the last few empty shots in the shed, utterly exhausted. He pulled out his phone for one last glance at the messages.

Xu Zhi: Well, if it’s not convenient, maybe we should just forget about tomorrow. You focus on your work, and we can meet back in Qingyi when you’re done. It’s all the same."Thud—" The phone was slammed onto the table inside the makeshift tent. The photography tent was set up right beside the racetrack for easy editing and retouching. They’d temporarily pitched it there so they could cut footage on the spot after filming and reshoot if needed. The setup inside was rudimentary—just a few tables, an extension cord powering several computers, and within days, the charging cables had already tangled into an indistinguishable mess. So when Chen Luzhou threw his phone onto the table, the shirtless editor sitting nearby instinctively glanced nervously at the power strip, afraid it might get yanked out.

There was no air conditioning here, just a few standing fans. When the female photographer wasn’t around, the well-built editors usually worked shirtless. Only Chen Luzhou kept his clothes on, always dressed neatly. The younger guys on the team teased him, asking if he was too embarrassed to take his shirt off because of his physique. Chen Luzhou would either fire back with a joke—"My body’s too good, don’t want you guys getting jealous"—or just ignore them. He wasn’t the type to lose his temper. Since joining the team, the conditions had been tough. Some photographers who filmed for hours a day complained constantly, either demanding to leave or asking for more pay. Chen Luzhou filmed over ten hours a day without a word of complaint.

So when he lost his temper now, even the usually quiet editor couldn’t help but ask, "What’s wrong? Family issues?"

The moon hung dutifully in the sky, casting its light over the mountains, the earth, the grass, and the burning heart of the young man.

"It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it," he said, shaking his head. He had no desire to vent. This wasn’t something he could talk about—it wasn’t even worth mentioning. It wasn’t anything yet.

The editor didn’t press further, tossing a pack of cigarettes his way. "You smoke? Help yourself if you do."

Chen Luzhou gave a faint smile, declining politely. He really didn’t smoke. He didn’t say anything else, just leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. His long legs stretched out, the chair tilted back as he rocked it lightly, staring up at the bare, hastily installed fluorescent light on the tent ceiling. The bulb wasn’t bright—maybe just ten watts—but even that was enough to make his vision swim after a while. By the time he picked up his phone again, his mood had settled. He’d been a little too harsh earlier.

Cr: Still up?

Xu Zhi: Yeah. You done working?

Cr: Mhm. What are you doing?

Xu Zhi: Watching that show you posted about. It’s pretty interesting.

Cr: You went through my Moments?

Xu Zhi: Yeah.

Chen Luzhou wanted to ask, What’s the meaning of this? Why are you looking through my moments? What’s your deal? But before he could, Xu Zhi sent another message, as if afraid he’d misunderstand, rushing to explain.

Xu Zhi: I was stuck on an article and thought I’d find some inspiration in your moments. Given how well you write, I figured you could handle this job.

Cr: …Thanks, Xu Zhi. Not everything needs an explanation. Sometimes the wind blows hard—who do the trees and flowers complain to? It’s just nature. I get it.

Xu Zhi: Oh, right.

Cr: About that question you asked me earlier—I’ve been thinking about it.

Xu Zhi: What question?

Cr: You asked what to do if the walls in your heart collapse.

Xu Zhi: Oh. Got an answer?

Cr: Wanna hear it?

Xu Zhi: Yeah, go ahead.

Cr: Not over text. Come see me tomorrow, and I’ll tell you in person.

Xu Zhi: Okay.

**The next day, Chen Luzhou had planned to pick her up, but Xu Zhi declined. Considering she was coming with two others and nothing should go wrong, he didn’t insist further. He sent her the location and asked her to call him once they arrived at the base.

It was then that Xu Zhi realized she didn’t actually have Chen Luzhou’s phone number—they had only ever communicated through WeChat. Without needing her to ask, Chen Luzhou proactively sent a string of digits.

Chen Luzhou: 1838991xxxx. Call if anything comes up. Can’t hear WeChat messages.

As Xu Zhi saved the number, she silently recited it. Feng Jin, sitting in the passenger seat, still had no idea who they were about to meet at their destination. But the number sounded oddly familiar—he just couldn’t place it. He was sure he’d seen it somewhere before, especially since the last four digits were consecutive. Back then, such numbers were rare. When he had applied for one at the telecom company, the available options were all hard to remember.

By the time the car pulled up outside the training base, Chen Luzhou was already there. Hands tucked in his pockets, he stood on the edge of the flowerbed by the entrance.

Feng Jin still hadn’t recognized the strikingly handsome guy on the flowerbed, but Chen Luzhou spotted him immediately. Though they had never officially met, they had video-called a few times and exchanged greetings through Zhu Yangqi’s phone a couple of times.

“Feng Jin.”

The moment the group stepped out of the car, Chen Luzhou walked over to Xu Zhi’s side. His tall frame naturally shielded her as he greeted Feng Jin first.

Feng Jin stared at him for a long while. The sun beat down overhead, and Xu Zhi felt like she was melting under the heat. Finally, Feng Jin belatedly pieced it together—but Chen Luzhou beat him to the introduction.

“I’m Chen Luzhou. You probably know me. Let’s talk inside.”

Then, he glanced down at Xu Zhi. “Hot?”

Xu Zhi nodded. “Lin City seems way hotter than back home. Yingying even got heatstroke yesterday.”

Chen Luzhou led them inside. “There’s no AC here, but it’s slightly cooler than outside. I’ll find a couple of fans for you later. I still have a shoot to finish, so feel free to look around. I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

Behind them, Feng Jin was still losing his mind. “Holy shit, holy shit—” No amount of cursing could calm his excitement. Cai Yingying’s ears were practically ringing from his yelling.

“Feng Jin, enough. I didn’t even react this much when I met Andy Lau.”

“That’s different! We have a mutual connection—Zhu Yangqi. But we’ve never actually met before. I’ve heard Zhu Yangqi brag about how amazing he is, and he was planning to introduce us at some point. Who knew we’d meet like this first!”

Cai Yingying: “You didn’t notice? Chen Luzhou didn’t seem too keen on meeting you.”

Even she had caught the chill in Chen Luzhou’s tone when he called Feng Jin’s name.

Feng Jin: “No way. He recognized me right away. He must’ve admired me for a long time too.”

Cai Yingying rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.The base was quite crowded. Before arriving, Xu Zhi had heard from him about the general situation—it was a motorcycle team club, mostly men, with a few female photographers. As soon as Xu Zhi stepped inside, she heard the roaring engine sounds from the track outside, likely from someone practicing. Chen Luzhou led them to the editing area. It was rare for Chen Luzhou to bring guests, let alone two beauties. In any other place, this would have caused quite a stir, but this base was special. One group of men was obsessed with bikes, another with photography—both immune to pretty faces. Instead, when they saw Feng Jin with a camera hanging around his neck, they acted like long-lost friends, saying with a patronizing tone, "How's it going? Tough industry, huh? Listen, buddy, you're still young—better switch careers while you can."

Cai Yingying and Xu Zhi were completely ignored. Cai Yingying was devastated. Losing out to Chai Jingjing was one thing, but even Feng Jin outshone her?

Seeing that Chen Luzhou hadn’t left yet, Xu Zhi said to him, "Go ahead with your work, don’t worry about us. If we get too bored later, we might go for a walk nearby."

"Nearby is just a military zone. Don’t wander off. Wait here for me," Chen Luzhou said, somehow procuring two bottles of Huoxiang Zhengqi Shui and placing them on the table. "There’s no doctor on the team. If you feel unwell, drink some of this."

Xu Zhi sat in his usual editing seat, took the bottles, and looked up at him. "When will you be done?"

"About an hour," Chen Luzhou tossed his PSP to her. "Play for a bit. I’ll call you for dinner."

Xu Zhi nodded.

Then Chen Luzhou left. Sitting inside the editing shed, Xu Zhi followed his path with her gaze and immediately spotted his drone. His equipment was all set up by the track, where a male and a female photographer stood chatting, seemingly waiting for him to start. As he approached, the girl handed him a bottle of water with a smile. Chen Luzhou didn’t take it. Instead, he bent down, picked up another bottle from the ground, and went straight to powering up the machine.

The setting sun hung low on the horizon, disappearing behind the mountain ridges, casting its last rays like a doll with faded makeup—a grayish yet vibrant glow. The editing shed didn’t smell great, and as the evening breeze blew in, the stench became overwhelming.

But in the dusk, that faint light seemed to gently tear through the sky, tentatively brushing against the girl’s face.

They had one hour of approved flight time today. The racers nearby were still warming up, trying to get into their best form, while Chen Luzhou sat lazily on the grass in his usual posture—elbows on his knees, head tilted back—double-checking for any nearby obstructions.

By the time he confirmed everything, there were still five minutes left before the official flight time could begin. The racers hadn’t stopped, rigorously honing their muscle memory. Xu Zhi hadn’t expected the atmosphere to be so tense. The editor beside them explained—"This is how it is. Chen Luzhou and his team are responsible for filming the 10th-anniversary commemorative video for this racing team. The rider driving the big-displacement bike is particularly hard to please—very nitpicky. A few days ago, he even got into a fight with one of our photographers because the shots weren’t good enough, breaking the photographer’s nose. Chen Luzhou specifically applied for a daytime flight route to get some aerial shots for him. And apparently, the rider has adjusted himself to peak condition, claiming he’ll achieve his best performance ever today. Honestly, I’m sweating for Chen Luzhou."

No wonder Xu Zhi felt the tension in the air the moment she walked in. The entire scene was more intense than an international competition. Watching the racer train with such urgency over there, even the senior crew members observing from the editing booth couldn’t help but hold their breath for him.

Yet, in those final five minutes, even Xu Zhi’s heart clenched with suspense—while Chen Luzhou remained utterly unperturbed, casually scrolling through his phone for four of those minutes.

He was dressed in his usual black T-shirt and black pants, though today, instead of sweatpants, he wore fitted black cargo pants. His black baseball cap—likely one of many he owned, given the different logo—accentuated his sharp jawline and striking bone structure. Neat and composed, his preference for all-black outfits only emphasized the clean, defined lines of his figure.

Cai Yingying couldn’t take it anymore and fretted, "How can he still be on his phone at a time like this?"

Feng Jin, unaware of whether Chen Luzhou even had a girlfriend, ventured a guess, "Maybe he’s texting his girlfriend?"

In the final seconds before filming began, Chen Luzhou finally, with an air of unshakable calm, tucked his phone away. Almost immediately, Xu Zhi’s phone buzzed unexpectedly with a notification.

Cr: About the question you asked me the other day—I thought about it yesterday. If the walls in my heart crumble, I’ll rebuild a stronger fortress. If all the rivers in the world run dry, I’ll use my tears to melt the ice and mountains. If the sun refuses to rise, I’ll try to light every lamp.

Cr: Whether the moon is full or not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll always stay by your side.