The air conditioner filter in the studio needs to be replaced.
Ah Yu sneezed in front of the computer screen, thinking this for the umpteenth time. A whiff of the developing solution he'd just brought from the darkroom lingered on the keyboard, mingling with the sycamore fluff drifting in from the window, creating a fuzzy, itchy sensation on his nose. He rubbed his reddened nose and turned around, only to be met with a tissue from Zhong Hua.
"Did you do it again?" Zhong Hua's voice rose from the pile of documents, carrying a hint of tension.
Ah Yu took the tissue and wiped his face haphazardly. The color correction work on the photo on the screen was interrupted, and there was still a patch of uncorrected blue on the person's shoulder. "It's an old problem," he sniffed, his fingertip pausing on the mouse. "It's probably because of the changing seasons; the sycamore fluff is flying everywhere."
Zhong Hua put down the report in his hand and got up to walk towards the break room. A gust of wind blew as the glass door was pushed open, causing the leaves of the pothos in the corner to sway, and a few yellow leaves drifted down onto Ah Yu's camera bag. He bent down to pick them up, his fingertips touching the mesh pocket on the side of the bag—which usually contained spare batteries, but was empty at the moment.
"Here." A glass of warm water sat on the corner of the table, fine droplets clinging to its sides. Zhong Hua's shadow was projected onto the screen, obscuring a small portion of the sky in the photo. "We have outdoor shooting this afternoon. How can we shoot with your rhinitis acting up?"
Ah Yu tilted his head back and drank half a glass of water. The dryness in his throat eased slightly, but the itching in his nose intensified. He sneezed again on the back of his hand, his voice muffled as if covered by cotton. "It's okay, I ordered some spray online, it should arrive today."
Zhong Hua's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. "That kind of medicine has serious side effects."
"It's better than sneezing, right?" Ah Yu smiled and reached for the color correction pen on the table. "Last time I filmed a wedding, I sneezed seven times in front of the priest, and the newlyweds' expressions froze."
Zhong Hua didn't reply and turned back to his workstation. Ah Yu, watching his slightly turned shoulder as he sat down, suddenly recalled a late autumn day in college. Back then, they were photographing migratory birds by the lake. He had squatted in the reeds for three hours straight, and when he got back, he developed a high fever, his nose so congested he could only breathe through his mouth. Zhong Hua carried him for two stops to the school hospital, the back of his white coat soaked with cold sweat, yet he kept muttering, "I told you to wear a mask."
The phone vibrated on the corner of the table; it was a notification to pick up a package from the parcel locker. Ah Yu grabbed her keys and stood up. Zhong Hua happened to look up from his documents, his gaze lingering on Ah Yu's face for half a second. "I'm going to pick something up," he said, waving his phone before briskly heading out the door.
The early summer breeze, carrying heat, brushed against his face, and a layer of yellowish-green fluff piled up under the sycamore trees downstairs. Ah Yu walked briskly past the fluffy clump towards the parcel locker, his fingertips slightly burning as he entered the pickup code. He knew Zhong Hua was right; he had asked at the pharmacy last time, and the clerk said that long-term use of that spray could lead to dependency. But thinking of the uncontrollable sneezing and itchy nose during filming, he still pressed the order button.
The sound of the plastic packaging being torn open was particularly clear in the quiet hallway. A light blue spray bottle lay in a foam pad, its surface covered with densely printed instructions. Ah Yu stuffed it into her pocket and headed back. Just as she turned into the floor where her studio was located, she bumped into Zhong Hua walking towards her.
"You got it back?" Zhong Hua's gaze fell on his bulging trouser pockets.
Ah Yu subconsciously pulled down the hem of his clothes, his fingertips touching the cool bottle. "Hmm, let's try it out." He mumbled in response, trying to walk past Zhong Hua, but was stopped by the other's hand.
"Let me see." Zhong Hua's tone was calm, but it carried an air of undeniable authority.
Ah Yu slowly pulled out the spray bottle. As Zhong Hua took it, his fingertips brushed against Ah Yu's palm, feeling the rough texture of paper. Ah Yu looked down at the instruction manual, his brow furrowing slightly. Sunlight streamed through the corridor window, casting a small shadow on his straight nose. "Naphazoline hydrochloride," he read the name from the ingredient list, his voice tinged with melancholy, "a vasoconstrictor. Long-term use can lead to drug-induced rhinitis."
"I only use it occasionally." Ah Yu reached out to take it, but Zhong Hua raised the bottle higher.
“Even occasionally isn’t good.” Zhong Hua looked up at him, her eyelashes casting a faint shadow beneath her eyelids. “Have you forgotten how your nasal congestion got worse when you sprayed too much last time you were filming rapeseed flowers?”
That happened last spring. They went to the suburbs to photograph the flower fields, and Ah Yu's rhinitis suddenly flared up. He secretly sprayed the spray several times, but by evening his nose was so blocked he could hardly breathe. In the end, Zhong Hua carried him for two miles to the parking lot. Ah Yu's ears were a little hot, and he reached out to grab the spray bottle: "I'll definitely be more careful this time."
Their fingertips touched in mid-air. Zhong Hua's hand was slightly cool, with calluses from years of holding a camera. Ah Yu suddenly gripped the bottle tightly and pulled it back, the plastic bottle leaving several marks on his palm. "I know my own business," he said, stuffing the spray bottle deep into the drawer and slamming it shut. "It's better than losing my composure in front of a client."
Zhong Hua looked at his tense profile, his lips moved, but in the end he just turned around and said, "I'm going to the break room."
The afternoon shoot went smoothly. Ah Yu deliberately avoided touching the spray bottle, only running to a vent when the itching became unbearable. Zhong Hua, standing behind him adjusting the lights, would always hand him a tissue the moment he inhaled, the movement so natural it seemed rehearsed a thousand times. By the time they finished and returned to the studio, it was already dark. Lin Wanqing packed her things to go home, patting Ah Yu's shoulder before leaving: "I put last week's proposal on your desk; we'll need it for the meeting tomorrow morning."
"Understood." Ah Yu nodded at the computer screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He needed to finish the initial editing of the photos he took that afternoon tonight, otherwise he wouldn't have time to prepare for tomorrow's meeting.
钟华收拾完摄影器材，走过来时手里拿着杯热牛奶。“先喝了再弄。”他把杯子放在啊玉手边，杯壁的温度透过掌心漫上来，暖得人舒服地眯起眼睛。
小主，这个章节后面还有哦，请点击下一页继续阅读，后面更精彩！
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