Be Passionately In Love

Chen Luzhou had written quite a few poems as a child. If Zhu Yangqi were here right now, he would definitely recite the most famous one—written when Chen was eight years old.

You are at the horizon, you are before my eyes, you seem to be by my side…

Even now, whenever his Chinese teacher runs into him on the street, the first thing they say is, "Oh, Chen the Great Poet! How’s it going? Published any books yet?"

Chen Luzhou felt like he had quite a few embarrassing moments in his past. From childhood to adulthood, he could hardly recall doing anything that truly made him feel proud. Zhu Yangqi thought he was just being pretentious, but he genuinely didn’t see himself as particularly outstanding. Academically, even at City No. 1 High School, he was just average—there were several times he didn’t rank first. Then the college entrance exam threw him a curveball, so becoming the top scorer was probably out of the question.

But the thing he prided himself on most was his refusal to ever admit defeat, his unwavering optimism. If a wall collapsed, he’d build a castle. If the sun vanished, he’d become the light. Like the books said, he had clear-cut love, direct dislike, genuine affection, and the boldness to stand in the sunlight—unashamed to praise himself loudly and without guilt.

His heart was steel, scalding hot under the sun.

But sometimes, a little youthful idealism was enough. Any more, and it’d be on par with something like, I’m such a passionate young man that if a vampire bit me, their mouth would blister from the heat of my blood.

The shoot went fairly smoothly. The driver begrudgingly admitted that Chen Luzhou’s footage was passable. The guy was nitpicky, and Chen was the only one who humored him—the team’s photographers had long since stopped bothering. Chen mostly just went through the motions, offering polite remarks. If they actually wanted him to shoot, he wouldn’t have the time anyway. Besides, the set would be dismantled tomorrow.

By the time he wrapped up, Xu Zhi had already started learning video editing from a few of the editors nearby. Seeing how engrossed she was in her conversation with the instructor, Chen didn’t call out to her. Instead, he casually grabbed a chair and sat beside her, watching her learn.

"Most of us use Premiere. Chen Luzhou uses FCP. Nowadays, a lot of small-time video bloggers don’t even use these—they go for dumbed-down editing software and don’t really understand the craft. Real editing is fascinating. The whole point is handling transitions and camera movements, not just stringing clips together. If you’re serious about learning, I can recommend a few books."

"Why does Chen Luzhou use FCP?"

The editor shot her a look. I’ve been pouring my heart out explaining all this professional stuff, and the only thing you picked up was ‘Chen Luzhou’?

Xu Zhi was so absorbed she didn’t notice Chen had returned. The editing crew, enjoying the spectacle of young love, didn’t point it out either—all watching with amused, knowing smiles.

"Because the systems are different," the editor replied, a little exasperated.

Xu Zhi sat beside him, listening blankly before letting out an "Oh." Still deep in thought, she reached back without turning around, feeling for the water bottle on Chen’s desk.

Chen, lounging in his chair, decided to tease her. With a mischievous grin, he moved the bottle just out of reach. Xu Zhi’s hand met empty air, and she instinctively turned—only for her gaze to land abruptly on a familiar dark figure at the edge of her vision.

"You’re back?"

"Chen the Handsome!"Chen Luzhou was just about to ask if editing was fun when someone called out to him loudly from behind, probably about dismantling the editing tent. Chen Luzhou stood up again and handed the water back to her, "Wait for me."

Not long after Chen Luzhou left, Cai Yingying and Feng Jin returned with the camera. Clearly, Cai Yingying had gotten some great shots—her face was flushed with excitement. "Xu Zhi, the sunset over there is absolutely stunning! Do you want to go take a photo?"

Feng Jin, utterly drained by her, plopped down onto the seat Chen Luzhou had just vacated like a limp rag, refusing to budge. "I’m not going. If you want to take photos, go by yourselves. I’m exhausted. Is Chen Luzhou still not done?"

"He’s finished, but someone called him away again," Xu Zhi said, pointing in a direction.

Feng Jin followed her gaze. Chen Luzhou had to be at least 185 cm tall—his head nearly brushed the top of the tent. His stature was undeniably striking wherever he stood. Across from him was a thin, dark-skinned young man, and the two seemed deep in conversation. Chen Luzhou lowered his head and chuckled, then took out his phone, probably to add the guy on WeChat. Honestly, that kind of charm was undeniably attractive. Feng Jin couldn’t help but wonder—what window had God actually closed on Chen Luzhou?

Feng Jin shook his head and clicked his tongue, saying to Xu Zhi, "What a busy man. Who would’ve thought our little Qingyi could feel so small? So, you must know Zhu Yangqi too, right?"

Xu Zhi nodded. "Yeah, I know him."

"So we’re all in the same circle," Feng Jin sighed. Talk about showing off in front of the wrong crowd—he never expected Xu Zhi to be this close to Chen Luzhou. "Well, this is embarrassing. That friend I mentioned whose photos got published in National Geographic? That’s Chen Luzhou. So you must know all about him—how amazing he is. No need for me to explain, right? And the guy Cai Yingying mentioned, the one who corrected her taste in aesthetics—that’s him too, isn’t it?"

Xu Zhi hummed in agreement. "But we’re not that close."

She probably knew even less than Feng Jin did. They really weren’t that familiar—Chen Luzhou rarely talked about himself, so if Feng Jin hadn’t brought it up, Xu Zhi wouldn’t have guessed it was him.

Just as Feng Jin was about to say something else, Cai Yingying called out, "Chen Luzhou, when are we eating dinner?"

Only then did Xu Zhi notice he had returned. His seat was taken by Feng Jin, so she instinctively stood up, offering her own spot to him. Chen Luzhou ignored her, standing beside Feng Jin as he packed up his laptop and cables. Without looking up, his voice cool, he said, "This tent’s being taken down soon. You guys can come in and eat with me later."

As soon as he finished speaking, a female photographer walked over carrying two boxed meals. "The other sister and I have spare work meals—do you want to give these to them first?"

Chen Luzhou was just zipping up his laptop bag. He glanced up at her. "You finished shooting 4015?"

The photographer set the meals on the table and complained, "Not yet. Still have a few shots to retake. Sister Yang is about to lose it—some guy insisted on getting makeup done, and now we’re scrambling to find a makeup artist out of nowhere. Oh, Sister Yang wanted to ask about your drone model—she’s thinking of buying one for her husband."

Chen Luzhou nodded. "I’ll send it to her on WeChat later."

The photographer lingered, hesitating as she looked at him.Cai Yingying and Feng Jin exchanged a glance—something was fishy here. Could there be something between these two? Cai Yingying’s eyes were practically boring holes into them. So this was Chen Luzhou’s type? Punk style, a head full of braids, dark skin—just a really dramatic look.

They might not have known, but Chen Luzhou had a rough idea of what she was up to. During downtime in the editing room, the crew loved gossiping. This female photographer was into girls. Chen Luzhou usually kept his opinions to himself on such matters, but he knew she had a girlfriend who’d visited the set just a couple of days ago.

He also guessed she probably wanted Xu Zhi’s WeChat. Earlier, he’d overheard her telling Yan Letong that the girl’s looks were “top-tier” in their circle. Following their gaze, Chen Luzhou realized she was talking about Xu Zhi.

Before she could speak, Chen Luzhou casually made up an excuse. Even if she didn’t mind saying it outright, he wasn’t used to exposing people in public. “Sis Yang was looking for you earlier—seemed urgent. Shouldn’t you check it out?”

“Shit.” The photographer cursed under her breath and hurried off, having actually forgotten something.

On the second floor of the base was a small room with a tiny table set up. After packing up, Chen Luzhou led them upstairs. Yan Letong had already laid out the takeout he’d ordered. The crew meals were too shabby, and Chen Luzhou didn’t want Xu Zhi eating that. Judging by her recent appetite—which had grown noticeably, especially with Feng Jin tagging along—this meal probably cost him half a day’s shooting fee. Money was tight lately. Ms. Lian Hui had frozen his cards to force him back home. He’d never been frugal before, never imagining he might one day have to stand on his own. Photography was an expensive hobby, and his account was running low. But no way was he letting Xu Zhi settle for crew meals.

So, he didn’t get it. What exactly counted as being “close” enough?

Watching meteors with her didn’t count. Drinking with her didn’t count. Bringing her to his workplace still didn’t count? Did she think he did this with just anyone?

Casually taking photos for her, casually drinking and sharing deep talks late at night, casually rushing out to treat her to a meal after a single text, casually bringing her to see where he worked—was that it?

“Why aren’t you eating?” Xu Zhi asked, oblivious.

Chen Luzhou leaned back in his chair, his expression cool and unyielding, exuding an air of unshakable pride as he stared at her for two or three seconds. Then, without changing his expression, he unwrapped the disposable chopsticks and silently shoveled a mouthful of rice.

Chen Luzhou was angry. The undercurrents hidden beneath this man’s gaze were something only Xu Zhi could truly sense—like a calm sea surface masking turbulent waves, concealing both wonders and dangers. The other two remained completely unaware.

“I just heard Cai Yingying say you can ride a motorcycle, Xu Zhi?” Feng Jin ventured, trying to make conversation.

Cai Yingying immediately jumped in, still chewing, wearing a look that said he’d asked the right person. “Yeah, she’s really good at it. You know Fu Yu Mountain Villa, right? Near Mingling Mountain? There are always bikers racing up there at night—all of them are Xu Zhi’s underlings.”Sure enough, you become who you associate with—Cai Yingying’s knack for exaggeration was really starting to rival Zhu Yangqi’s. Xu Zhi hadn’t noticed before how much she could embellish. Mingling Mountain’s winding, rugged roads were thrilling, and it was true that many people raced there. But Xu Zhi still wanted to say—it was just a few rebellious kids playing around on motorcycles, yet Cai Yingying made it sound like a full-blown street racing scene.

Feng Jin, however, took it seriously. Shoveling food into his mouth like a whirlwind, he said, “You wanna go down later and race with them? I just heard from the team leader they’re having a competition—it’s gonna be wild.”

No sooner had Feng Jin spoken than a wave of cheers and deafening engine roars erupted from the racetrack below.

“Damn, it’s starting!” He hurriedly stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth, tossed his chopsticks onto the table, grabbed his camera, and bolted out.

“I’m going too!” Cai Yingying dropped her chopsticks like lightning and dashed after him.

Only the two of them remained in the small room. Xu Zhi glanced around—it seemed to be an abandoned construction site. The windows weren’t sealed, left wide open, revealing the golden sunset outside. The breeze rushed in, carrying the crisp scent of leaves, cooler than the air downstairs.

Their dining table was just a plank propped up on two paint buckets, so it was very low—barely reaching Chen Luzhou’s knees. He’d had to hunch over the entire meal.

Xu Zhi watched him. Chen Luzhou had been quietly eating the whole time, occasionally checking his phone. Even now, with Cai Yingying and Feng Jin gone, he remained slumped in his chair, chopsticks resting on his knees, the other hand typing a WeChat message—clearly not in the mood for conversation.

After silently eating a few more bites, Xu Zhi flipped her chopsticks and used the clean end to place a piece of beef in his bowl.

Chen Luzhou looked up from his phone, met her gaze briefly, then returned to his screen. “Thanks,” he said flatly.

Xu Zhi replied, “You should eat before Cai Yingying comes back and steals it all. Do you have any shoots tonight?”

“No,” Chen Luzhou set his phone down, leaning forward again to hunch over his bowl. He didn’t look at her as he resumed eating. “Did you see my WeChat?”

“Yeah,” Xu Zhi nodded. “It was motivating. But you deleted the second line right after? I didn’t catch what it said—something about whether the moon was round?”

“Just random nonsense. Had nothing to do with you.” Chen Luzhou leaned back in his chair, putting his chopsticks down. He was done eating—the beef Xu Zhi had given him remained untouched at the bottom of his bowl.

“Oh, okay.” Xu Zhi took a couple more bites before asking, “So, do you wanna head back together tomorrow? We’re planning to hire a car.”

“With Feng Jin?” Chen Luzhou massaged his neck, stiff from hunching over for so long. His tone was indifferent. “We’ll see. Depends on what time I wake up.”

He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a while—tonight, he planned to book a hotel and catch up.Of course, Xu Zhi sensed that she might have offended him somewhat. But she couldn’t figure out where she had gone wrong. Asking directly didn’t seem right either, especially with the deafening roar of the generator downstairs, like a beast howling hysterically into the night, its muffled growls pushing the competition atmosphere to a fever pitch. Xu Zhi had to raise her voice for him to hear her.

The second floor had no door, only two thick curtains for privacy. Chen Luzhou, probably also bothered by the noise downstairs, had drawn them shut and even propped up two wooden panels to block the drafty gaps around the door and windows. The sound was now muffled, and the sudden quiet made the buzz of a mosquito near Xu Zhi’s ear all the more noticeable.

In such an enclosed and intimate space, emotions tend to amplify, and nerves grow more sensitive. Chen Luzhou could feel his heartbeat quickening—wild as a startled deer, steady as drumbeats, tumultuous like boulders churning the waves. He felt pathetic. Ever since meeting her, he had become less and less like himself, with nothing substantial occupying his thoughts.

He sat back down, legs spread wide enough to encircle the table—and by extension, her legs too. Popping the piece of beef she had given him into his mouth, he looked straight at her and asked bluntly, "Are you close with Feng Jin?"

"Feng Jin?" Xu Zhi was baffled. She picked up another slice of beef for herself. "Not as close as I am with Zhu Yangqi."

"Oh, got it. So you’re close with Zhu Yangqi," he said, half-amused, half-annoyed. With a haughty nudge of his foot against hers, he slipped into his usual arrogant demeanor. "Just not with me, huh?"

"When did I say—"

Xu Zhi paused mid-sentence, her chewing slowing as her brain caught up. "Is that what you’re mad about?"

Xu Zhi was nothing if not direct—arguably even more so than him. She had called him out on it outright. Humans were funny that way: when angry, they’d go to great lengths to make the other person aware, but once confronted, the anger suddenly felt unjustified.

"Was I mad?"

"You definitely were earlier. When you were breaking apart the chopsticks, it looked like you were snapping my bones." Her description was vivid, as if his irritation had been unmistakable.

Chen Luzhou straightened up, his appetite seemingly improved as he grabbed another piece of beef. His chopstick grip was more refined than most, and Xu Zhi was about to compliment him—"You hold chopsticks more properly than any guy I’ve met"—when he suddenly pulled his long legs in. With complete transparency and no attempt to hide his feelings, he looked at her and said, "A little, yeah. I feel like I’ve been nothing but open with you, and then you turn around and tell someone we’re not close. Can you blame me for being upset?"

His emotions were clear—a bright, unclouded honesty befitting a young man of integrity.

"I just feel like I don’t know you well enough, that’s all," Xu Zhi admitted. To her, he was clean-cut, disciplined, intelligent, with a simple and wholesome social circle. Even if he had stumbled in the college entrance exams, his future should still be boundless. Everyone must have high expectations for him. "The things Feng Jin mentioned—I’d never heard any of them before. That’s why I felt like I didn’t really know you."

"Like what?" he pressed, clearly determined to get to the bottom of it."He said your works have been published in many magazines, and that your footage of Hoh Xil was once broadcast directly by a TV station."

"That's what he thinks is impressive but makes you feel like you don't know me? Having works published in magazines is nothing—Chen Xingqi made the newspapers at eight years old when he ran away from home. As for the direct broadcast, my mom works at the station. Their show had a last-minute gap when another film source fell through, so she used my footage as a temporary filler."

"..."

Chen Luzhou looked calmly into her eyes and added, "Oh, by the way, what I filmed was two Tibetan antelopes mating. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Xu Zhi: "..."

Outside, the cheers rose in waves, the wind howled, and the partition seemed on the verge of collapse. Xu Zhi sighed, resigned. "How about I tell you a joke instead?"

Chen Luzhou asked bluntly, "Is that your way of coaxing me?"

Xu Zhi: "Suppose so."

He couldn't help but play hard to get, thinking to himself, Do you coax everyone like this?

He leaned back in his chair, watching Xu Zhi in silence. His gaze was casual yet ambitious, like a ruthless casino dealer scheming to fleece every gambler of their chips.

Just as Xu Zhi was about to ask if he actually wanted to hear the joke or not, a loud "bang" sounded behind them. Cai Yingying burst in, panting heavily, completely oblivious to the faintly charged atmosphere in the room. Grabbing Xu Zhi's hand urgently, she exclaimed, "Quick, quick! The motorcycle race downstairs has prize money—five thousand yuan!"

Xu Zhi sprang to her feet without hesitation, abandoning Chen Luzhou on the spot. "Hold on a sec."

Chen Luzhou: "..."