Ah Yu flipped to the next picture, and sure enough, it was Zhong Hua's perspective—he was sitting at the tent entrance wrapped in a blanket, the sunrise only partially visible in the frame, with the rest of the shot showing his yawning profile. The edges of the photographic paper were slightly curled, as if it had been repeatedly rubbed.

Zhong Hua was looking down at the photos, his finger pausing on a group photo. In the picture, the three of them stood by Qinghai Lake. Lin Wanqing was holding a selfie stick, and Ah Yu's head was slightly leaning towards Zhong Hua. Their shadows overlapped on the ground, like a half-open flower. It even bore a resemblance to the shadows at the flower market today.

"Boss, another tea egg, please." Zhong Hua suddenly looked up and called out, his gaze falling on Ah Yu's bowl. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning."

Ah Yu tightened his grip on the chopsticks. The aroma of tea eggs mixed with the smell of chili oil wafted over, reminding him of the braised eggs in the university cafeteria. Back then, Zhong Hua would always share half of his egg with him, the shell painted with crooked smiley faces, like honey melted in the sun.

Lin Wanqing held up her phone and took a picture of the tea eggs on the table: "I say, shouldn't the three of us take a group photo? From college until now, we don't have many proper group photos."

Ah Yu and Zhong Hua looked up at the same time, their eyes meeting again in mid-air. This time, neither of them looked away. The morning light filtered through the gaps in the canvas tent, falling between them like a gentle bridge.

“Okay.” Ah Yu spoke first, her voice trembling slightly. “Let’s use my camera to take the pictures. I just adjusted the settings.”

Zhong Hua smiled and nodded, reaching out to tuck the stray hairs from his forehead behind his ear: "The lighting is perfect, don't waste it."

Lin Wanqing took a few steps back, camera in hand. The two people in the frame were very close; Zhong Hua's wicker basket lay at their feet, and A Yu's camera hung around her neck. Sunlight fell on their shoulders, casting their shadows on the ground like slowly unfurling orchids. She suddenly felt that this was more moving than any carefully arranged scene—some friendships are like the morning light in a flower market; they don't need to be deliberately pursued, yet they can transcend time, blooming gently in every unexpected moment.

"Smile." Just as Lin Wanqing pressed the shutter, a gust of wind blew by, and Ah Yu's hair brushed against Zhong Hua's cheek. The two of them turned their heads at the same time, like butterflies startled by something.

As the photographic paper slowly emerged, the morning light bathed the entire flower market. In the distance, the orchids still stood quietly in the corner, the dew on their tips finally sliding down and dripping onto the bluestone slab, spreading out a small wet patch, like someone's long-hidden secrets finally settling on the ground.