The obstructive roses were eventually tossed into the back seat, leaving only their rich fragrance lingering in the car.
Though Huo Boyan wanted to sit closer to Zhu Ran, he didn’t do anything excessive—he simply held Zhu Ran’s hand.
They had done far more intimate things before, yet now they had inexplicably turned pure and innocent. Love was perhaps this kind of disorienting thing, capable of turning people into complete strangers to themselves.
Even so, just holding hands in the car made Zhu Ran’s face flush when the sedan pulled up in front of a restaurant in Shallow Water Bay. After a lavish brunch, Zhu Ran and Huo Boyan headed to an old-fashioned photography shop.
The shop was in a remote location—a lone white building perched on the Mid-Levels hillside, without any sign. Its only distinctive feature was a mimosa tree in the courtyard at the entrance, over ten meters tall, its pink flower clusters swaying gently in the hot sea breeze, lively and spirited.
Zhu Ran and Huo Boyan entered the interior and learned it was a private photography equipment store that also handled collecting and selling.
The owner was around sixty or seventy years old, with white hair and tortoiseshell glasses. He was very chatty. He claimed to have no children and devoted his life to photography, enjoying collecting cameras as well. All the machines on the first floor were ones he’d sourced himself.
“Looking back, I realized I’d accumulated so many,” the owner said with a touch of emotion. “When I was young, I always felt lacking—wanting to try everything, play with everything. Now that I’m older, I can’t use them anymore. I can’t bear to sell them, and I can’t take them with me when I die. So I thought, why not open a shop? One, so I can show them off, hahahahaha. Two, so I can entrust these treasures to those fated to have them.”
He said all the cameras here were functional and invited Zhu Ran to try any he liked. Since he was Huo Boyan’s friend, he’d offer a satisfying price.
Zhu Ran recognized some models. The oldest film cameras were decades old, requiring manual film loading and advancing the lever to shoot. You couldn’t see the photos right away; they had to be developed in a darkroom.
Now in the digital photography era, with advanced smartphone cameras where a single shutter press captured an image, Zhu Ran wouldn’t have imagined—had he not been into photography—that decades ago, producing a single photo involved such a complex process.
The second floor was a spacious exhibition hall, divided by a half-wall into two sections. One was a permanent exhibit of the owner’s youthful world travels captured in photos; the other a temporary display of local Hong Kong Island photographers’ works. Zhu Ran discovered two were famous Hong Kong celebrities—he’d even watched their movies as a kid.
It was magical, connecting in this unexpected way.
After viewing the exhibits, Zhu Ran continued upstairs. The third floor was a small study lined with rare out-of-print photography books, including collections documenting Hong Kong Island from thirty or forty years ago, and even ones from his own city. Zhu Ran was like a mouse in a rice barrel, completely lost in browsing, forgetting Huo Boyan entirely.
Until a “click” sounded. Zhu Ran looked up to see Huo Boyan taking his photo with a camera.
Zhu Ran belatedly felt apologetic. This outing was meant to thank Huo Boyan, yet he’d been selfishly engrossed. He set down the half-read book and leaned over to peer at Huo Boyan’s camera.
“What are you shooting? Need my help?” he asked Huo Boyan.
But it was a film camera, not digital—of course, nothing was visible. Zhu Ran stared for a while before realizing, withdrawing his gaze awkwardly. Why did being with Huo Boyan make his IQ drop?
“It’s fine,” Huo Boyan said good-naturedly, not annoyed at all. “Keep looking. I’m just snapping away.”
Zhu Ran missed the half-read book—that rare item probably wasn’t for sale or gifting—so he returned to it.
While Zhu Ran read, Huo Boyan photographed him nearby.
The film camera’s shutter was quiet, but Zhu Ran still felt uneasy, fretting over needless things like “Is my shirt wrinkled?” “Is my pose ugly?” “Does my expression look bad?”—issues he wouldn’t normally care about.
Huo Boyan noticed, surprised but finding camera-shy Zhu Ran adorable. He set down the camera and approached. “Zhu Ran, what are you nervous about?”
Zhu Ran glanced at him and snatched the camera. “You’ll know when I shoot you.”
He’d meant it as a tease, but peering through the viewfinder at Huo Boyan’s eyes, he suddenly grew serious, captivated.
The idea of photographing Huo Boyan had been brewing for a while.
It couldn’t be helped—Huo Boyan was strikingly handsome, with impeccable aura and poise. No photographer could resist such a subject.
Zhu Ran commandeered the camera and bossily positioned Huo Boyan, forcing him to cooperate for many shots.
Once he picked up the camera, Zhu Ran’s vibe transformed entirely.
Most times, Zhu Ran seemed aloof and detached. Temper neither good nor bad, words measured—he could be likable if he tried, but usually stayed low-key, minimizing his presence, as if uninterested in everything.
Yet now, he came alive, expression stern and focused, brooking no defiance from Huo Boyan—like an emperor issuing commands.
Zhu Ran shot three rolls of film, including many photos of him and Huo Boyan together.
Unexpectedly, when shooting wrapped, the owner handed over a film camera too, saying it was full of their photos for them to develop together.
The owner had been photographing them too—they even had third-person perspective shots!
Zhu Ran thanked him and took the camera, but then puzzled: he didn’t know how to develop photos.
His home lacked darkroom setup; past film he’d secretly mailed out for processing.
Huo Boyan, however, took the camera from him and naturally entered the darkroom.
Machines unfamiliar to Zhu Ran filled the space. Watching Huo Boyan close the windows and lights, Zhu Ran was surprised. “Huo Boyan, you know how to develop photos?”
Huo Boyan hummed affirmatively, then added, “Did it a long time ago. Might be rusty now—help me out.”
Zhu Ran wanted to, but lacked skills. He shook his head. “But I don’t know how.”
“It’s simple,” Huo Boyan said. “I’ll tell you the steps later. Just follow them.”
Zhu Ran said “oh” and happily joined in.