Chapter 4

Chen Nian truly got to know Fang Zhizhu when they were both twenty-four.

Before that, she had only admired the celebrity she liked from afar. She wasn’t some rabid fan, but she made a point of watching all of Fang Zhizhu’s movies and TV shows, and she snapped up every new song the moment it dropped.

Fang Zhizhu had the sweetest smile, and her eyes came alive when she slipped into a role or took the stage, sparkling like they had voices of their own. Whenever Chen Nian dragged herself home exhausted from work or in the dumps, scrolling through Weibo and spotting one of Fang Zhizhu’s photos would send a little thrill through her heart, making the whole world seem brighter.

That feeling took on even more meaning after Chen Nian figured out her own sexual orientation. It nailed her type perfectly.

Orientation sniper.

So when the invitation to shoot for Fang Zhizhu’s agency landed in her inbox, Chen Nian’s fingers shook with excitement as she typed her reply.

【Sure, I have the slot open.】

The message came off cool and collected, maybe even a touch smug, but the second she chucked her phone aside, she whipped around to her assistant and let out a piercing shriek. “I get to shoot Fang Zhizhu! Aaaah!!! Fang Zhizhu!!!”

Her assistant blinked. “When?”

“First of next month! Aaaah! That’s exactly twenty-eight days from now! Aaaah!!!”

“Isn’t No. 1 supposed to hit the Como Gala?”

“Not anymore! Aaaah, but this is Fang Zhizhu! Fang! Zhi! Zhu!!!”

Her assistant chuckled, though she didn’t quite get it. “Teacher, it’s not like you haven’t shot celebs before. You didn’t flip out like this when Film Emperor Bai came by.”

“That’s totally different,” Chen Nian said, sucking in a deep breath. “That was just work. This is… abusing my position for personal gain. Hahaha…”

She was over the moon.

Chen Nian had majored in hydraulic and hydropower engineering in college—photography had been nothing more than a hobby. But after graduation, decent jobs in her field proved elusive, while her photo gigs snowballed.

It started with personal portraits, escalated to ad campaigns, and before she knew it, she had her own studio and was working with big-name stars. Her career had rocketed upward in ways she never could have dreamed.

She was still just an up-and-comer making waves in the industry, nowhere near the level where she could handpick her celebrity clients. And yet here was her big break.

She had daydreamed about it a thousand times—what Fang Zhizhu would look like framed in her lens.

The mere thought had her heart swimming in honey, fizzing with bliss.

Over the next month, Chen Nian poured every spare moment outside of work into Fang Zhizhu.

She pored over the star’s recent looks and public image, tailoring three bespoke shooting concepts that played to her one-of-a-kind charm.

When she fired them off, Fang Zhizhu’s manager hit her back with an awestruck voice note. “Whoa, these are incredible! I want all three schemes.”

Chen Nian cleared her throat and typed back cautiously. “If you love them all, why not send them to Zhizhu and let her pick one?”

The manager saw no issue and forwarded them along. Fang Zhizhu was in the middle of a shoot, so it wasn’t until that evening that Chen Nian heard back.

No chit-chat—the manager simply slid Fang Zhizhu’s WeChat contact her way.

Chen Nian’s hands were trembling again. Even in the chill of the air-conditioned room, she felt sweat beading all over her.

She added Fang Zhizhu, who accepted almost instantly.

The chat window popped open, and before Chen Nian could craft the perfect opener, a cute kitty sticker landed with a playful: hi~~~~

Chen Nian stared, brain-fried: 【hi~】

Fang Zhizhu: 【I checked out the plans—they’re amazing!】

Chen Nian: 【Glad you like them~】

Fang Zhizhu: 【But choosing just one? Impossible…】

Chen Nian started typing: Need a rec? I personally love the deep sea mermaid set…

She hadn’t even hit send when Fang Zhizhu popped up again: 【Kids pick one. Adults take ’em all!】

Chen Nian: ……

Fang Zhizhu really was such a kid.

She had zero celebrity ego, and when it came to work decisions, she didn’t give a second thought to her packed schedule.

Chen Nian: 【Each scheme has two outfits, but we’ve only got an afternoon to shoot.】

Fang Zhizhu: 【Afternoon times three? Perfect—I’ll clear a full day for you.】

Chen Nian couldn’t help it: 【!!!!】

Then came the voice message from Fang Zhizhu. “I’m free that day. I’ll square it with Sister Yang. Shoot from dawn till dusk, okay~?”

Her voice dripped with sugar, trailing off in the cutest little lilt—a mix of wheedling and hope that left Chen Nian’s heart a total puddle.

She clutched her pounding chest, her mind a chaotic whirl, when Fang Zhizhu followed up with another voice message: “Are you super busy? If you are, we can just go with one set~”

~~~

Chen Nian fired back a voice message instantly: “Not busy.”

Not busy at all—nothing trumped being busy for her. Forget giving up a whole day; she’d give her life if asked.

With the shoot locked in, Chen Nian tweaked the plan a bit to spare Fang Zhizhu too much fatigue. Follow-up coordination went off without a hitch. After she wrapped talks with the manager, Fang Zhizhu would message her soon after, gushing about how capable and thoughtful she was.

Chen Nian had never encountered a celebrity this proactive. Where on earth had this one-of-a-kind sweetheart dropped from?

Thanks to their upfront back-and-forth, Chen Nian felt far more composed by shoot day.

But that composure held only as long as it took her to pack up, hop in the car, and pull into Fang Zhizhu’s mansion garage. There stood Fang Zhizhu in pajamas and slippers, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she greeted her: “You’re here already? So early—thanks for the hard work.”

Chen Nian: ………………

She was a goner.

She dreaded her fangirl stare coming off like a creep’s, enough to send Fang Zhizhu running to the cops.

“Mm, yeah, early.” Chen Nian wrenched her gaze downward and plunged into work mode. “I checked the villa photos. Let’s set up the scene first.”

“Mm~” Fang Zhizhu replied. “I’ll go do my makeup then. I had Douzi grab breakfast—don’t forget to eat, okay~~~”

So familiar, so approachable, so sweet and cute.

Chen Nian’s assistant, trailing behind her, flashed a covert thumbs-up: “Teacher, this star-chasing gig is worth every penny.”

Worth it? She’d hit the jackpot—every minute ahead was pure gold.

As morning light broke, they kicked off the first outfit’s shoot. Fang Zhizhu was an angel in the woods, barefoot atop gossamer fabric. Every shutter click had Chen Nian’s heart screaming.

That inner clamor didn’t quiet as the day wore on; it only ramped up. After lunch, they shifted to the villa’s main living area for glimpses of 24-year-old Fang Zhizhu’s daily life. With everything prepped, she piped up: “I don’t think it feels right.”

In all their hours of shooting, this was Fang Zhizhu’s first objection.

Chen Nian halted everyone on the spot. “What’s off about it?”

Fang Zhizhu was curled on the sofa, beckoning her closer.

Chen Nian stepped up, near enough to catch every whisper, but Fang Zhizhu leaned in further. She straightened her torso, knelt on the cushions, and tilted right over.

Chen Nian’s hands hovered instinctively, ready to catch her if she toppled.

Fang Zhizhu cupped her palms and murmured into her ear: “I don’t wear a bra at home.”

Chen Nian: “…”

Fang Zhizhu’s voice brushed soft as silk: “No pants either.”

Chen Nian: “…………”

Fang Zhizhu eased back. “That’s why it feels wrong—no comfy, carefree vibe.”

Chen Nian: “………………”

Words failed her; her whole body buzzed wrong, throat parched.

She’d strived for pure professionalism on the job, yet Fang Zhizhu unraveled her rhythm—her very composure—with a throwaway line, a casual shift.

Heat bloomed through her, a panicky flush.

Her throat felt scorched, like smoke might billow out. One wrong word, and her filthiest thoughts would tumble free.

At length, Chen Nian ducked her head. “So… how should we shoot it, then?”

Onlookers scratched their heads at the photographer’s plunge from eager pro to wilted wreck, chalking it up to the A-lister’s diva streak surfacing at last.

Hush fell, thick enough to hear the AC’s whisper.

Fang Zhizhu broke it: “Fewer people around would be better.”

Chen Nian’s team edged back a step.

Fang Zhizhu: “Light’s perfect. Just us two should do it.”

Her own crew retreated too.

Chen Nian balled a fist. What was there to say?

“Okay.”

The room cleared, leaving just the two of them.

Fang Zhizhu wore a baggy tank and tiny shorts; arms up, she ditched the bits that bugged her.

The tank draped loose, sleeves long enough to trace her curves—teasing hints of motion, itching at the heart.

Chen Nian flicked a glance, then looked sharply away.

Fang Zhizhu slung her long legs over the sofa back. Breeze tugged the white curtains, grazing her toes.

She squinted faintly. “Teacher, let’s shoot.”

Chen Nian’s resistance lasted mere seconds.

She still couldn’t tear her gaze away. Instead, she turned her back completely. “Teacher Fang, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Fang Zhizhu nodded. “Mm. Go ahead.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Chen Nian said. “I like girls.”

“Ah…” Fang Zhizhu let out a soft sound of surprise, then spoke with a smile in her voice. “That’s not strange at all.”

“In today’s world, it kind of is. I…” Chen Nian paused, clutching her camera so tightly her knuckles whitened. “I really like you. I’m a fan—from the moment you debuted at fourteen.”

“So I think it’s inappropriate for me to be taking such intimate, private photos of you.” She blurted it all out in one breath, and the sword that had been hanging over her head finally seemed to descend.

Fang Zhizhu fell silent for a long moment. Chen Nian felt like the air conditioning was running in vain; she was covered in sweat.

She couldn’t wait for an answer any longer. She didn’t think she needed to. Chen Nian turned and headed for the door.

“It’s fine,” Fang Zhizhu said suddenly. “I think it’s okay.”

“Photos taken by someone who’s liked me for so many years should turn out beautifully.”

“I can sense it, too. You’re more invested than any photographer I’ve ever worked with.”

Chen Nian’s footsteps halted. Fang Zhizhu went on. “What do I look like in your heart? I’m curious. You can capture that on film.”

Chen Nian turned back. There was Fang Zhizhu, lounging lazily on the sofa, her hair lifted gently by the blower, her skin glowing white as jade under the bright lights—a vision straight out of a young girl’s fever dream.

Chen Nian took a step forward, desperate to confirm what Fang Zhizhu meant, but she was so flustered that she forgot all about the step right in front of her.

She stumbled but managed not to fall. The camera, however, flew from her hands and smashed against the hard stone floor.

Chen Nian: “…”

She stared at the shattered lens, lost in thought for what felt like ages.

Was she an idiot?

Ever since she’d set foot in this villa, she’d been acting like a complete fool around Fang Zhizhu.

A wave of deep dejection washed over Chen Nian. She picked up the camera and inspected it. Not only was the lens cracked, but the reflex mirror inside the body was broken too.

This was the limited-edition commemorative model she’d bought specially for photographing Fang Zhizhu.

Two hundred grand, gone.

Worse still, she felt like her credibility as a professional photographer had vanished in Fang Zhizhu’s eyes.

All those tangled, fanciful thoughts evaporated in an instant. Chen Nian lifted the camera. “Sorry. I can’t shoot anymore.”

Fang Zhizhu eyed her. “Don’t you have a backup?”

“I do,” Chen Nian said, “but it’s not as good.”

Fang Zhizhu rose to her feet and crossed the room in a few strides. She took hold of Chen Nian’s wrist. “Then come upstairs with me. I have plenty of cameras.”

“It’s not just the camera,” Chen Nian protested. “I feel like I…”

“Don’t talk,” Fang Zhizhu commanded.

Chen Nian fell silent.

Fang Zhizhu had turned commanding in an instant. Her sweetly beautiful features were the same, but now every movement—even the sound of her heels clicking on the floor—carried an air of unyielding authority.

Chen Nian had no choice but to follow. Fang Zhizhu gripped her wrist firmly but not painfully, leading her up the spiral staircase and into the bedroom on the second floor.

There were no cameras in the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them, and Fang Zhizhu stepped close. She looked into Chen Nian’s eyes, and then her lips pressed against hers.

Chen Nian felt like she was dreaming. For a long time afterward, she kept thinking it had all been a dream.

Fang Zhizhu sought her out again and again—in the dusky hush after a rainstorm, in the bleary dawn after an all-nighter.

She texted that she liked her, whispered it in person that she missed her, and murmured at parting that she couldn’t bear to let go.

Chen Nian asked why more than once.

Why me? I’m not pretty, not rich, not exceptional in any way.

Fang Zhizhu would just smile and counter: “If that’s what I wanted, why wouldn’t I date myself?”

Utter sophistry.

Yes, nothing but sophistry.

The more time she spent with Fang Zhizhu, the clearer it became that her sweetness was only skin-deep. When Fang Zhizhu wanted something, she pursued it with ruthless efficiency, sparing no effort until it was hers.

She said she liked Chen Nian and wanted to be together.

She said she couldn’t live without her and wanted to move in.

She said Chen Nian never believed how deeply she loved her, so she went public with their relationship for the whole world to see.

Aside from that final parting, Chen Nian could think of nothing Fang Zhizhu had ever done wrong as a lover during those six years.

She cherished her, cared for her, supported her work and dreams. She gave everything, claimed her fully—and yet never clipped her wings or curbed her freedom.

Fang Zhizhu had single-handedly created the most perfect romance that belonged to Chen Nian.

So Chen Nian felt that if it happened again, she would give Fang Zhizhu just as much.

No, she would give her even more.

She wanted to let this little Fang Zhizhu grow up happily and free of worries, to protect her from all suffering and sadness, to accompany her through every moment of loneliness and joy, and to let her live out her life in happiness and stability.

Chen Nian stared at the head that was all that remained peeking out from under the blanket, patiently waiting for Fang Zhizhu’s response.

Fang Zhizhu stayed curled up inside, completely motionless.

Chen Nian had all the patience in the world to wait for Fang Zhizhu, but Dean Su couldn’t wait any longer. She chattered on, “This girl just doesn’t like talking much. Everyone loves playing with the kids outside. You two could exchange names or something…”

With that, she stepped forward, ready to pat Fang Zhizhu’s blanket. Chen Nian quickly stood up and said, “No need.”

Dean Su and the police both turned to look at her.

“I’m Chen Nian. I remember my home address and phone number,” Chen Nian said. “I’ll go out with you right now.”

Dean Su clapped her hands happily. “That’s great! That’s great! Your parents must be so worried about you wandering off!”

Chen Nian said to the police, “I didn’t wander off. I came here on my own.”

The police asked, “How about Uncle takes you home?”

Chen Nian shook her head. “No need. Just let me call them to come pick me up.”

She paused for a moment. “I’ll come back again tomorrow.”

Although this statement left Dean Su and the police looking utterly shocked and puzzled, she hadn’t said it to them.

It was Chen Nian’s promise to Fang Zhizhu: I’ll definitely come tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that too—until you accept me as your friend.