Chapter 11

On the first day after their relationship was confirmed, Qiu Yayu woke up with a light, unreal feeling, as if she were walking on clouds. Outside the window was the gray light of early winter, and the dormitory was still filled with the soft snoring of Shen Yuqi and the soft rustling of Lin Xue turning pages. Everything was the same as usual, yet it seemed completely different.

She pulled her phone from under her pillow; the screen was clean, with no unread messages. A slight sense of disappointment flickered in her heart, but it was quickly dispelled by the immense sweetness brought by his tightly clasped hands in the darkroom last night, the warmth of his fingertips, and the words, "Just because it's you." Lü Xiaoyan wasn't the type to proactively send good morning texts.

She hugged the blanket, buried half her face in it, and smiled secretly. So this is what mutual affection feels like, like having a little sun hidden in your heart, constantly radiating a warm halo, making even the tiny cracks on the dormitory ceiling seem adorable.

She had a long class in the morning. Carrying her books, she walked out of the dormitory building. A cold wind hit her face, and she instinctively shrank her neck. Just then, her phone vibrated.

She took it out, and the screen displayed Lü Xiaoyan's name. Only three simple words:

"Did they go downstairs?"

Her heart skipped a beat, and she immediately looked up and around. Not far away, under the ginkgo tree whose leaves had almost all fallen, Lü Xiaoyan was standing there. He was wearing a dark gray down jacket and a dark blue scarf she had never seen before. He stood tall and straight, carrying two paper bags with the school coffee shop logo on them.

The thin morning sunlight filtered through the bare branches, falling on him and outlining his handsome features. He saw her, his gaze piercing through the sparse crowd, landing precisely on her, and then he walked towards her.

Qiu Yayu stood there, feeling as if the surrounding noise had become a blurry background sound, with only the sound of his approaching footsteps clearly striking her heart.

He stopped in front of her, handed her one of the paper bags, and said in a calm voice, with a hint of gentleness that was barely perceptible: "It's hot."

Qiu Yayu took the paper bag, which felt warm to the touch. Inside was a hot latte and a cranberry scone that she had casually mentioned wanting to try last time.

"You... how did you get here?" She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with surprise.

“It’s on the way.” Lü Xiaoyan looked away, her ears slightly red in the cold air. From his dormitory to her teaching building and to the coffee shop were completely different directions.

Qiu Yayu didn't call him out, her heart filled with a sweet warmth, like the melting frosting on a scones. She took the warm coffee, sipped it, and the rich milk foam and coffee aroma instantly dispelled the chill. "Thank you, senior."

"Okay," Lü Xiaoyan responded, and they walked side by side toward the teaching building.

This was the first time they had walked side-by-side on campus in broad daylight as "lovers." Qiu Yayu could feel the occasional glances cast her way—some curious, some surprised, and perhaps even the stares of the girls who secretly admired Lü Xiaoyan, as Su Xiaoxiao had mentioned. But she didn't care at all; instead, she felt a small, assertive sense of pride.

He walked beside her, his pace slow, accommodating hers. They still didn't exchange many words, but the atmosphere was different from any previous time they walked together. A silent, intimate current flowed between them. Her arm would occasionally brush against his, each slight touch like a pebble thrown into a still lake, rippling outwards.

"This afternoon..." As they reached the foot of the teaching building, Lü Xiaoyan stopped and looked at her. "Are we going to the darkroom again?"

“Go!” Qiu Yayu nodded immediately, almost impatiently.

"Okay." The corners of his mouth seemed to twitch slightly upwards. "I'll wait for you."

Watching his departing figure, Qiu Yayu hugged the warm coffee and scones, feeling as if she possessed the whole world.

In the afternoon, when Qiu Yayu arrived at the darkroom, Lü Xiaoyan was already inside. He was sorting through some old negatives. Hearing the door open, he looked up. Under the red light of the darkroom, his eyes seemed softer than usual.

Qiu Yayu walked over and naturally sat down on the high stool next to him, taking out the rangefinder camera he had given her. "I took so many pictures today!" she said proudly, "The wrinkles on the cafeteria lady's face when she was serving food, the cat sleeping on the library windowsill, and... the way you looked under the tree this morning." She lowered her voice a little shyly at the last sentence.

Lü Xiaoyan took the camera, skillfully rewound the film, and took out the roll. "I'll develop it for you."

"Really? That's great!" Qiu Yayu watched excitedly as he skillfully loaded the film into the developing tank and poured in the chemicals. The only sounds in the darkroom were the sloshing of the chemicals and the ticking of the timer.

While waiting for the film to develop, Lü Xiaoyan suddenly asked, "Did Cheng Hao contact you later?"

Qiu Yayu paused for a moment before realizing he was referring to the student council vice president. She shook her head: "No, I just said hello when we bumped into each other on the street. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Lü Xiaoyan said calmly, his gaze fixed on the developing tank, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the workbench. He remembered Chen Mo winking at him when he returned, telling him that Cheng Hao seemed to pay considerable attention to Qiu Yayu while he was away. A strange, possessive feeling quietly grew in his heart. He didn't doubt her, but... he didn't like it.

Watching his subtle movements, Qiu Yayu suddenly had a flash of inspiration. She leaned closer, tilted her head to look at him, and said with a sly smile, "Lü Xiaoyan, you wouldn't be... jealous, would you?"

Lu Xiaoyan's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and his ears quickly flushed a deeper red in the red light. He pursed his lips, neither admitting nor denying, but simply turned his head and glared at her. That look was less a warning and more a somewhat embarrassed acquiescence.

Seeing his rare moment of embarrassment, Qiu Yayu couldn't help but chuckle, her heart filled with sweetness. So he could be like this too. She reached out and gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft: "Don't worry, I made it very clear to him. I only have eyes for that quiet, quiet idiot who only expresses his care through cameras and notes."

As Lü Xiaoyan listened to her soft, smiling words and looked at her smiling face so close to his, the subtle bitterness in his heart was instantly soothed and calmed. He reached out and grasped the hand that was tugging at his sleeve, gently squeezing her fingertips.

"Mmm." He responded softly, all the unspoken words conveyed in this small gesture and the exchange of glances.

The development time was up, and he released her hand, turning to proceed to the next step. Qiu Yayu watched his retreating figure, the warmth of his palm still lingering on her fingertips, and she couldn't stop smiling.

This early winter, because of the person beside her, felt warm all the time. She began to look forward to the promise they were about to make to the art museum. It would be their first official date as lovers.

She looked forward to all the futures they would share together. The film slowly developed into an image in the developing solution. Lü Xiaoyan gently picked up a film with clips and examined it carefully under the red safe light. It was a photo Qiu Yayu had taken of him—standing under a bare ginkgo tree in the early morning, carrying a paper bag, his figure appearing somewhat lonely in the thin sunlight, yet imbued with a gentle steadfastness born of waiting.

“This one,” Lü Xiaoyan’s voice rang out in the quiet darkroom, tinged with a hint of barely perceptible surprise, “has a very good composition.”

Qiu Yayu leaned closer, almost resting her chin on his arm, and smirked triumphantly: "Of course, I received the true teachings of a certain master." She was referring to the sporadic guidance he had given her before.

Her breath brushed gently against his ear, carrying the faint scent of lingering hot latte. Lü Xiaoyan stiffened slightly, but didn't pull away. Instead, he held the photo higher so she could see it more clearly. "The lighting is also quite good, the backlighting in the early morning, outlining the contours," he said, unusually speaking, as if offering a serious critique, or perhaps trying to hide the accelerated heartbeat caused by her proximity.

"The main reason is that the models are good," Qiu Yayu added with a grin, her eyes crinkling into bridges.

Lu Xiaoyan glanced at her helplessly, but a faint smile appeared in his eyes. He put the photos into the stopping solution and began processing the next one. It was the wrinkles on the cafeteria aunt's face as she smiled, full of the warmth and life of everyday life; it was a cat curled up on the library windowsill, lazy and at ease.

He examined each sheet, washing them with focused, gentle movements. Qiu Yayu stayed quietly beside him, no longer speaking, only watching his profile as he worked. The red light of the darkroom lengthened the shadows of his eyelashes, casting them on the bridge of his nose, softening his usually somewhat cold and hard features. She suddenly recalled Su Xiaoxiao's description of Cheng Hao—"like a perfectly polished diamond." Lü Xiaoyan, on the other hand, was more like an uncut gem, or a ore buried deep underground, cold and hard on the outside, but containing a warm luster within that needed patient discovery. And she, fortunate enough, was the one allowed to approach and glimpse the inner brilliance.

"Here you go." Lü Xiaoyan handed her the last developed photo. It was a photo she had secretly taken of his profile as he bent over adjusting the camera, his bangs falling across his forehead, his expression so focused that it seemed the whole world consisted only of him and his camera lens.

Qiu Yayu took the still slightly damp photo, and looking at the familiar image of him, her heart melted. She carefully placed the photo aside to dry, then turned to face him.

"Lü Xiaoyan." She called his name softly.

"Hmm?" he replied, looking down as he tidied up the equipment.

“I think…” she paused, as if choosing her words, her cheeks flushed in the red light, “I like you a little bit more than yesterday.”

The hand tidying up the equipment suddenly stopped. Lü Xiaoyan looked up and met her clear and courageous eyes. There was no hint of jest there, only pure, overflowing affection.

The air seemed to freeze. The ticking of the timer became unusually clear.

He looked at her, at her slightly trembling eyelashes, at her lips pursed in nervousness, at the small reflection of himself in her eyes. An unprecedented, surging wave of emotion pounded against his chest, almost breaking through his habitual restraint.

He put down what he was holding and took a step forward. The distance between them vanished instantly.

He didn't speak, but simply reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across her cheek, the touch cool to the touch of developing solution, yet also seemingly burning hot. His movements were slow, carrying an almost reverent probing.

Qiu Yayu held her breath, her heart pounding in her throat. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle touch of his fingertips, like a feather brushing against her skin, yet it stirred up a storm in her heart.

Then, he lowered his head and placed a gentle, sigh-like kiss on her forehead.

Warm, dry, carrying his unique, clean scent and a faint, almost imperceptible chemical smell. Fleeting, like an illusion, yet undeniably real.

Qiu Yayu suddenly opened her eyes and met his unfathomable gaze, which was so close to hers. The ice within them completely melted away, leaving only a burning tenderness that almost devoured her.

“Me too,” he said in a low voice, hoarse, carrying a suppressed, intense emotion she had never heard before. “More than just a little.”

Qiu Yayu's tears fell unexpectedly, not from sadness, but from immense happiness and emotion. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his cool down jacket, her voice muffled and trembling with sobs: "Lü Xiaoyan, you have to keep your word."

Lu Xiaoyan's body stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed. He raised his hand, somewhat clumsily, but ultimately firmly, to hug her back, holding her slender body tightly in his arms. His chin gently rested on the top of her head, feeling the soft touch of her hair and the faint fragrance emanating from her body.

"Mmm." He whispered in her hair, his promise carrying immense weight, "You keep your word."

The red light of the darkroom enveloped the two embracing figures, casting their shadows on the wall, where they overlapped and became one. Even the smell of chemicals seemed to become lingering. Outside the window, the winter wind still howled, but in this small world, only their heartbeats and warmth created a perpetual spring, shielding them from the cold.

After a long while, Qiu Yayu finally lifted her head from his embrace, her eyes and the tip of her nose red, like a wronged little rabbit, but with a silly smile on her face. "So... what should we wear to the exhibition this weekend?" She began to struggle with this sweet dilemma.

Lu Xiaoyan looked at her, his eyes filled with tenderness. He raised his hand and used his fingertips to wipe away the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, then paused and added, “You look good in anything.”

Qiu Yayu was stunned for a moment, then smiled even more sweetly. This was probably the most beautiful love confession she had ever heard from him.

She knew that their story, beginning in the darkroom of early winter, was just beginning to write its warmest chapter. And that upcoming weekend date was merely the first chapter of countless beautiful futures. Qiu Yayu carefully tucked the dried black-and-white photographs into a brand-new sketchbook, like precious treasures. Under each photo, she meticulously marked the date and a brief sentiment in colored pens—"The Morning He Waited For," "Auntie's Smile," "The Guardian of the Library," and for the profile of him working with his head down, she hesitated for a long time, ultimately only drawing a small heart.

Closing her sketchbook, the sense of unreality she felt gradually subsided, transforming into a grounded, warm joy. She began to eagerly anticipate their weekend meeting at the art museum, which would be their first formal date.

After the dormitory lights were turned off at night, she hid under the covers and, using the dim light of her phone, sent a message to Lü Xiaoyan:

"Are you asleep?"

Almost immediately, the dialog box displayed "The other party is typing..." at the top, followed by a short reply:

"without."

Qiu Yayu's lips curled up as she typed rapidly: "I'm thinking about what to wear this weekend. How about that beige duffle coat? Or does that red sweater look warmer?" She followed it with a string of conflicted emojis.

There was a few seconds of pause before they replied:

"Anything is fine."

A typical Lü Xiaoyan-style reply. Qiu Yayu wrinkled her nose at the screen, about to "condemn" his perfunctory attitude, when another message popped up:

"Red, please."

Qiu Yayu paused for a moment, looking at those three words, a small flower quietly blooming in her heart. He remembered. She had only casually mentioned red in her conflicted choices, and he had already made his selection. To him, this was already an extremely thoughtful response.

"Okay! Red it is!" She sent a happy rolling emoji. "And you? Will you wear that dark gray down jacket? Or that black workwear jacket you wore before?"

"……grey."

"Got it! I promise I won't have the same color as you!" she sent with a playful salute emoji.

The conversation seemed to have to end, but she couldn't bear to. The gentle touch on her forehead in the darkroom, and the warmth of his embrace, seemed still vividly imprinted on her skin. She bit her lip, her fingertips hovering over the screen for a moment, before finally mustering her courage, quickly typing a line and clicking send.

"Lü Xiaoyan, I think I'm already starting to miss you."

After sending that message, she immediately turned off her phone, burrowed under the covers, and her cheeks burned. Her heart pounded in the darkness, like a restless fawn. Had she been too forward? Would he think she was too clingy?

Time ticked by, but the phone remained silent. Just as Qiu Yayu's anticipation was turning into a hint of anxiety, the screen finally lit up.

There are no words.

There is only one simple system emoticon.

The yellow, smiling emoji radiated a soft glow in the center of the dark phone screen.

Looking at that expression, all of Qiu Yayu's anxiety vanished instantly, leaving only a heart full of sweetness. She hugged her phone, buried her face in the soft pillow, and smiled silently.

She knew that this was the most direct way he could express his longing.

---

Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory, Lü Xiaoyan looked at the smiley face he had just sent on the screen, his ears burning slightly. He almost never used emojis, finding them too frivolous. But just now, seeing her say "I miss you," he typed and deleted the "hmm" repeatedly, and finally, almost inexplicably, clicked on the emoji bar he almost never used and selected this simplest smiley face.

It seems that only in this way can he convey the soft and comforting emotions in his heart at this moment that cannot be summarized by "hmm" or "okay".

He put down his phone, walked to the wardrobe, and opened it. There weren't many clothes hanging inside, mostly black, white, or gray. His gaze fell on the only slightly brighter coat—a khaki trench coat, which his mother had insisted on giving him last year, saying he always wore dark colors and looked too somber. He had hardly ever worn it.

His fingers lingered on the collar of the trench coat for a moment, but ultimately he didn't take it. His gaze shifted to the dark gray down jacket she had mentioned.

It was the weekend, at the art museum. He imagined her in a red sweater, like a warm, bright flame in winter. And he, dressed in a somber gray, stood beside her… which seemed nice too.

He closed the wardrobe, returned to his desk, picked up the rangefinder camera his father had given him, and gently stroked its cool metal body. Uncle Li's words echoed in his ears again. Emotion… He looked out at the deep night, but his heart was no longer a cold wasteland. There, because of someone's intrusion, there was warmth, color, and expectation.

For the first time, he felt that the arrival of the weekend was something to look forward to.

---

---