Chapter 8

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Since that night by the lake, the relationship between Qiu Yayu and Lü Xiaoyan has entered a subtle yet stable new phase. Although the unspoken understanding between them hasn't been completely broken, their feelings for each other are as clear and unspoken as the distant mountains under a clear autumn sky.

Going to the darkroom became more like a daily routine for Qiu Yayu. She was no longer just an observer; sometimes she would bring her own small camera—an entry-level mirrorless camera, a gift from her parents when she got into university. She would show the photos she took to Lü Xiaoyan, mostly snapshots of everyday life: small potted plants on the dormitory windowsill, cute-shaped steamed buns in the cafeteria, a peculiar cloud in the sky. The compositions were naive, but full of eyes that discovered beauty.

Lü Xiaoyan would observe, occasionally pointing out one or two areas where the lighting or angle could be improved, his tone flat, but Qiu Yayu could always detect a seriousness in his words. She was like a sponge, greedily absorbing all the knowledge and aesthetics about photography that he unintentionally revealed.

He began teaching her some basic darkroom techniques: how to gently swirl the photographic paper in the water basin to ensure even development; how to determine if the fixing was sufficient; and how to control exposure time to obtain photos with different contrasts. Under the red safety light in the darkroom, their heads would sometimes be very close, their breaths mingling with the smell of chemicals, and their fingers would occasionally touch during operation, bringing a tacit, unspoken flutter of excitement.

Once, Qiu Yayu was trying to enlarge a photo she had taken of Lü Xiaoyan's back—a candid shot taken in the old town when he was intently looking up at the eaves of an old house. Her technique was inexperienced; she miscalculated the exposure time, resulting in a blurry image with only a faint outline.

"Ah... I failed." She muttered somewhat dejectedly.

Lü Xiaoyan walked over and stared at the blurry photo, the subject almost indistinguishable, for a long time. In the dim red light, his profile revealed no emotion.

“It’s alright,” he suddenly said in a low voice, his voice unusually clear in the quiet, dark room, “It’s good that I can’t see their faces.”

Qiu Yayu was stunned for a moment, then realized what he meant, her cheeks flushing slightly. Was he saying that because she couldn't see his face clearly, she could keep this image of him without any reservations? This kind of secret, possessive recognition made her heart race faster than any straightforward praise.

Besides the darkroom, their footprints began to appear in other corners of the campus. They would go to the library together; he would study his photography theory, and she would study her introduction to communication studies. Occasionally, their eyes would meet in the air, exchanging a silent smile. They would eat dinner together in the cafeteria. Qiu Yayu would always quietly take away the green peppers he didn't like from his plate, while Lü Xiaoyan would share half of the sweet and sour pork that she had been longing to try but was afraid was too sweet with her.

These small, everyday moments, like a warm stream in autumn, flow gently, nourishing each other's lives. Lü Xiaoyan still doesn't talk much, but he will look at her intently when she speaks, he will subconsciously put his arm around her shoulder to protect her on the inside when crossing the street, and when she is troubled by her studies or club activities, he will hand her a bottle of warm milk and say, "Take your time."

Qiu Yayu was like a ray of light, shining into his orderly yet somewhat gray world without warning, bringing color, sound, and warmth. He began to get used to her presence, her laughter, and even her occasional little tantrums. He found that his dormant heart was now rippling with continuous, warm waves because of her.

Chen Mo had caught them together several times, and each time he would wink at Lü Xiaoyan, mouthing "Sure," only to be met with a warning look from Lü Xiaoyan. But even Chen Mo could see that the icy look in his usually aloof friend's eyes was gradually melting away.

The seasons are moving from late autumn into early winter. The leaves have almost all fallen from the trees, leaving only bare branches stubbornly pointing towards the sky. The weather grows colder day by day, and the north wind begins to carry a biting chill.

That day, Lü Xiaoyan was organizing his recent negatives in the darkroom, preparing to select some to participate in an inter-school photography competition. Qiu Yayu sat on a high stool next to him, swinging her legs, watching his profile as he focused on his work.

“Senior,” she suddenly spoke, a hint of barely perceptible expectation in her voice, “there’s a huge classical oil painting exhibition at the city art museum next weekend. I heard it features many original works by masters. Would you like to go see it?”

Lu Xiaoyan continued working on the negatives and responded with a simple "Mm."

"Then... shall we go together?" Qiu Yayu leaned forward.

Lü Xiaoyan looked up at her. In the red light of the darkroom, her eyes resembled two small flames, burning with bright anticipation. He could almost picture her in the art museum, uttering small gasps of wonder at the paintings. Going with him. This thought stirred a soft ripple in his heart.

"Okay." He nodded.

"Great!" Qiu Yayu immediately smiled and jumped off the high stool. "Then I'll buy tickets in advance! I heard there's a queue!"

Her happiness was so simple yet infectious that even Lü Xiaoyan couldn't help but twitch her lips slightly.

However, just as Qiu Yayu was excitedly planning her weekend, Lü Xiaoyan's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID; it was from home. He went to the corner of the darkroom to answer the phone.

"mom."

The mother's gentle yet slightly anxious voice came from the other end of the phone: "Xiaoyan, can you come home next weekend? Your grandfather's old friend, Uncle Li, the very famous collector, happens to be free this weekend and has agreed to come and see the set of photos you took of the old town last time and give you some pointers. It's a rare opportunity, as he's going abroad next week."

Lu Xiaoyan held his phone, remaining silent for a moment. He glanced at Qiu Yayu, who was looking down at her phone checking art museum guides; her profile appeared soft and focused in the light from the phone screen.

“Next weekend…” he repeated, his tone hesitant.

“Yes, next Saturday. I know you might be busy, but it’s really hard to schedule an appointment with Uncle Li. His comments on your photos could be very helpful for your competition.” The mother’s voice was comforting. “Besides, you haven’t been home in a long time, and Dad misses you a lot.”

Lü Xiaoyan's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. His grandfather's old friend held a very high position in the photography circle, and his guidance was indeed invaluable. Moreover, although his father never interfered with his choices, he could always feel his silent concern.

He looked at Qiu Yayu again. She seemed to notice his gaze, looked up, and gave him a questioning smile.

On one hand, there was a rare opportunity and the expectations of his family; on the other hand, there was his first formal, planned "date" with her.

"Xiaoyan?" her mother urged on the other end of the phone.

Lü Xiaoyan took a deep breath and whispered into the microphone, "Okay, I understand. I'll go back on Saturday morning."

After hanging up the phone, he walked up to Qiu Yayu, unsure of what to say. The atmosphere in the darkroom became somewhat tense because of his silence.

"What's wrong?" Qiu Yayu sensed the change in his mood and her smile faded slightly.

"Next weekend..." Lu Xiaoyan's voice carried a hint of barely perceptible apology, "I probably won't be able to go to the art museum."

The light in Qiu Yayu's eyes dimmed instantly, like a candle flame extinguished by the wind. "Why?" she asked, her voice filled with obvious disappointment.

"Something came up at home, and I need to go back," Lü Xiaoyan explained. He didn't go into details about Uncle Li's situation, feeling that it sounded like an excuse. "A...very important elder has some free time."

Qiu Yayu lowered her head, looking at the tips of her shoes, and remained silent. A sense of disappointment filled the air. She had been looking forward to it for a long time, even planning what to wear to the exhibition.

Seeing her dejected expression, Lü Xiaoyan felt a strange tightness in his chest. He wasn't good at handling these kinds of emotions, much less at comforting people. He remained silent for a moment, then suddenly turned and walked to the workbench, picking up a pen and a notepad for recording exposure parameters.

With his back to her, he quickly wrote something on the paper, folded it, walked back, and handed it to her.

Qiu Yayu looked up in confusion and took the folded note. She unfolded it.

The paper bore his neat, legible handwriting, with a date and time written on it—a full week later than the originally planned date for the art exhibition. Below that, in smaller print:

"Added. Lü Xiaoyan."

There were no fancy words, no excessive explanations, just a simple, almost clumsy, promise and agreement.

Qiu Yayu looked at the note, then looked up at him. He stood there, a rare hint of nervousness in his eyes, as if waiting for her reaction.

The slight disappointment in her heart was instantly replaced by a more surging emotion. A bittersweet feeling filled her chest. She knew what such a written agreement meant to someone like Lü Xiaoyan.

This is more serious than him verbally agreeing ten times.

She carefully folded the note again, clutching it tightly in her palm as if it were a priceless treasure. Then, she looked up, a smile blooming on her face again, brighter than before, filled with understanding and a touch of sweet mischief.

“Okay,” she nodded vigorously, “It’s a deal then! Next week, no backing out!”

Seeing her eyes light up again, Lü Xiaoyan's tension instantly eased. He nodded, his tone certain: "Yes, it's settled."

The promise written on the sticky note, like a tiny seed, was buried in the early winter evening. They both believed it would sprout and blossom successfully the following week.

Qiu Yayu carefully put the note into her pocket, patted it, and smiled contentedly. Little did she know that this seemingly solid agreement, confirmed in black and white, would ultimately shatter into an irreparable regret, like the last withered leaf of the season, in the sudden cold snap.

At this moment, she was completely immersed in the certainty and tangible happiness before her. And Lu Xiaoyan, seeing her smile, also gently brushed away the slight unease in her heart caused by the unexpected turn of events.

The future seems to continue unfolding slowly along a warm trajectory.

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