Chapter 41

Chen Nian walked Fang Zhi to the door of her piano teacher’s house, then turned and headed downstairs.

She rang the doorbell, but the teacher hadn’t come to open it yet. Fang Zhi turned to look at her and pointed at the watch on her wrist through the gap in the railing.

“Got it.” Chen Nian gave her an OK sign. “I’ll come pick you up right on time.”

Fang Zhi visibly relaxed. The door opened, and she went inside. Chen Nian bounced down the stairs and stepped out into the blazing sunlight, suddenly feeling a bit adrift.

Did she really want to go to the library? She’d already read more than enough books in her spare time over the past few years.

Fang Zhi was throwing herself into learning the things she loved. Shouldn’t Chen Nian find something to occupy herself with too?

A gust of wind swept through, setting the poplar leaves lining the street rustling.

Bean-sized raindrops pelted Chen Nian’s forehead. She looked up. Most of the sky was still clear, but a downpour was already brewing.

She glanced around for shelter.

Across the street, someone was frantically packing up gear. In his panic, he couldn’t even collapse the tripod.

Chen Nian wiped her face and dashed over. She steadied the tripod for him, letting him unmount the camera first.

The reflector clattered to the ground, rain hammering it with sharp bangs.

The guy reached for more equipment, but Chen Nian shoved him. “Take the camera inside first. This other stuff can wait.”

Her tone carried the weight of profound disappointment, nothing like what you’d expect from a little girl. The young man froze for a second.

Chen Nian shot him a glare, and he clutched the camera to his chest before hurrying into the shop next door.

Chen Nian was already getting damp, so she stopped rushing.

One hand on the tripod, the other hauling the reflector—and spotting a bag nearby, she grabbed that too—before heading into the shop.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The young man rattled off his gratitude and moved to take the gear from her. Chen Nian handed over the bag but kept hold of the rest.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Zhu Dong,” he replied. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Chen Nian rolled up the reflector with a quick flick of her wrist and passed it to him, then set to work on the tripod. “Is this your shop?”

Zhu Dong’s face flushed red, his expression one of utter fluster. “No, I… I’m just the apprentice…”

Chen Nian gave him a once-over and thunked the tripod onto the floor. “Then grab a dry cloth and wipe down all the equipment. I’ll leave it to you.”

Zhu Dong: “Right, right, right.”

Chen Nian: “And check the camera. Make sure no water got in.”

Zhu Dong: “Right, right, right.”

Chen Nian glanced around. “No one else in the shop?”

Zhu Dong’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, his panic mounting. “Master… Master stepped out.”

“Oh.” Chen Nian settled into a nearby chair on her own. “Mind if I hang out here for a bit?”

Zhu Dong: “Of course, sit, sit. Would you… like some water?”

“Yes, thanks,” Chen Nian said.

Zhu Dong was indeed a fresh apprentice, barely a few days into the job.

He wasn’t familiar with the gear, but he knew his way around customers. He promptly brought her a glass of water and set a pack of tissues on the table in front of her. “Are you here for photos?”

The seventeen- or eighteen-year-old was skinny as a rail, talking to Chen Nian with obvious timidity.

“No photos,” Chen Nian said, nodding toward the street. “Just dodging the rain.”

Summer storms came fast and furious. Outside, lightning cracked and rain hammered down, sending sprays of water dancing across the pavement like performers.

“Oh, oh.” Zhu Dong mumbled, looking a bit dazed.

Chen Nian: “Better get to wiping your stuff.”

Zhu Dong: “Oh, oh, oh.”

He scurried off to tend to it. Chen Nian sipped her water at a leisurely pace, taking in the small photo studio.

Two stories: reception downstairs, probably a shooting area up top. The prime wall space featured ID photo samples, with the bulk of the displays being children’s portraits—hundred-day milestones, three-year-old keepsakes, that sort of thing.

It was a practical operation.

Zhu Dong finished wiping everything down and peered at the camera with anxious care.

“Should be fine,” Chen Nian said. “If you’re still worried, crack it open and check.”

Zhu Dong scrunched up his face, looking utterly pitiful. “I… I’d better not…”

Chen Nian: “You were brave enough to take it out shooting earlier. What’s this—no nerve to even inspect it now?”

Zhu Dong flailed his hands. “No, no, I didn’t… I just took it out for a second. Didn’t power it on or anything, just looked…”

Chen Nian found him genuinely pitiable and softened her voice. “Does your master not let you touch the camera?”

Zhu Dong went quiet, standing there in a daze.

Chen Nian held out her hand. “Hand it over. I’ll take a look. I promise I won’t break it.”

Zhu Dong shook his head. “No, no, I’ll check it myself.”

Hey, he still didn’t trust her.

Chen Nian tugged at the corner of her mouth and continued sipping her tea leisurely while watching him fiddle around at an unhurried pace.

Indeed, plenty of commercial photography studios took on apprentices, treating them like general laborers for the first few months—or even up to half a year.

Their daily tasks boiled down to hauling gear, setting up lights, lugging bags around, and keeping clients entertained. Once the shoot wrapped up, so did their work, and they rarely got their hands on a camera.

The equipment was pricey, the lenses fragile. A stern warning to scare the newbies a little? No harm in that.

But that wasn’t the real issue. Cameras weren’t made of paper; normal handling wouldn’t break them.

The truth was, every shoot needed just one photographer but a whole crew of assistants. Someone had to handle the grunt work—the backbreaking jobs with zero glory. If it wasn’t the newbie, was the master supposed to do it?

Besides, the technical side of photography was the easy part. Anyone could pick it up in a matter of days. Artistic photography demanded creativity and an eye for beauty; commercial work hinged on landing clients and building connections.

Those were skills that took years to hone, and shadowing a master let it all sink in.

Of course, the logic made sense to everyone. Still, Chen Nian couldn’t help feeling a twinge of pity for Zhu Dong, who looked utterly spooked.

After inspecting the camera, Zhu Dong finally let out a relieved breath. “Should be fine.”

“Mm,” Chen Nian replied. “Better pack it up quick, before your master comes back…”

Zhu Dong snatched up his gear and trotted inside.

When she emerged again, Chen Nian—bored out of her mind—asked, “So what were you trying to shoot, anyway? Setting up a tripod in broad daylight like that.”

Zhu Dong scratched the back of his head. “A car.”

Chen Nian shot him a look. “Why drag out that puny reflector board for shooting a car? Bounce light off a moving vehicle, and you’d cause a pileup.”

“I-I didn’t use it,” Zhu Dong stammered. “I just…”

His voice faded into nothing.

“Sigh…” Chen Nian let out a breath. “Never mind, forget it.”

Zhu Dong clammed up. Outside, the rain kept falling, finally knocking the edge off the sweltering heat.

As Chen Nian headed off to pour herself a second cup of water, Zhu Dong edged closer and murmured, “Little sister, you know photography?”

“First off,” Chen Nian said, “my name’s Chen Nian. Second, photography’s just the start.”

Zhu Dong’s eyes lit up. “I could double this shop’s sales,” Chen Nian added.

“Ah?” he said.

“You know—bring in a flood of orders, double your earnings!”

“Ah!!!”

His eyes gleamed like they were firing lasers.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so dim-witted anymore. He grabbed the cup from her hand, filled it with water, then hauled out a platter of melon seeds, peanuts, and candies from behind the counter. He settled her comfortably into a seat.

“So how do we make more money?” Zhu Dong asked.

Chen Nian gave him a sidelong glance. “You think I’d spill money-making secrets to just anyone?”

“Then, little sister—no, Master Chen—what would it take for you to tell me?”

“I only share with people who are extra obedient,” she said.

“I’m extra obedient.”

“Fine. Here’s your assignment for today.”

In the time that followed, Chen Nian grilled Zhu Dong on the shop’s ins and outs: how many photographers they had, who the boss was, where the customers came from.

Truth be told, Zhu Dong wasn’t the picture of obedience. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have messed with the camera while his master was out—or dodged her questions when she probed the real meat of things.

He wasn’t stupid, either. That dopey, vacant look? A calculated move to seem harmless and win trust.

He was bold, too—chatting business with a kid on a rainy day, genuinely itching to give it a shot.

Chen Nian pieced together the basics, and it lined up with her guesses.

Your typical neighborhood photo studio: not exactly booming, but scraping by. The boss doubled as the shop’s sole photographer these days, overseeing two apprentices. Zhu Dong had been there half a month; the other was nearly as green and out on a shoot with the master that day.

Customers trickled in off the street or through the master’s old contacts. They specialized in ID photos and commemorative portraits at rock-bottom prices.

The task Chen Nian gave Zhu Dong that day? Have a talk with his master.

About his pay, when he’d finally get to handle a camera, and whether he’d earn a cut if he brought in clients.

They were both feeling each other out. Chen Nian had nothing better to do, and whether it went anywhere—or ended well—barely mattered to her.

By the time their chat wound down, the rain had stopped.

Dozens of minutes remained before Fang Zhi’s class let out. Chen Nian cracked melon seeds, sipped her tea, and swung her legs leisurely.

Zhu Dong shrank behind the counter and turned on the stereo to play a song for her.

It was a song by the currently most popular singer, the kind all the kids at school loved.

Chen Nian smiled and said to him, “When customers get too nervous during photoshoots, just play some music for them. Match the vibe of the photo you want—whatever feeling, and it works for anyone over three.”

Zhu Dong asked, “What about under three?”

Chen Nian replied, “Put on a monkey show for them.”

Class ended right on time, and as Fang Zhi stepped out the door, she spotted Chen Nian standing in the hallway.

Chen Nian met her gaze and grinned wide, flashing a mouthful of big white teeth like a total goofball.

Fang Zhi asked her, “When did you get here? How long have you been waiting?”

Chen Nian trotted two quick steps to her side and walked down with her. “Just now—I timed it perfectly.”

Fang Zhi said, “But class ran five minutes late today.”

Chen Nian replied, “I factored in those five minutes too. Which teacher doesn’t drag things out?”

Fang Zhi asked, “So if there’d been no overtime today, I’d have to wait five minutes for you?”

Chen Nian: “…”

Chen Nian perked up, her eyes going wide as she glared fiercely at Fang Zhi. “I’ve been waiting two hours for you—what’s five minutes?”

Fang Zhi looked at her and came to a stop.

Chen Nian stopped too. After more than five seconds of silence, she started to panic. “Zhizhi, I was just kidding. I wouldn’t make you wait—I got here ages ago…”

Fang Zhi reached out and patted her on the head. “No more showing up early from now on. After class, I’ll go to the library to find you.”

Chen Nian said, “No way—that’s gotta be me coming to find you.”

Fang Zhi insisted, “I’ll find you.”

Chen Nian replied, “I’ll find you, I’ll find you! I’m happy to wait—I love waiting. My favorite hobby is waiting for people…”

Those words were utterly insincere.

In truth, Chen Nian hated waiting. She had a hot-blooded, impatient personality—whatever popped into her head, she acted on it right away, and whatever she wanted, she went after it full throttle.

The only one she was willing to wait for, the only one she’d gladly waste time on without a second thought, was Fang Zhizhu.

Waiting for her to finish being busy. Waiting for her to come home. Waiting for her to grow up.

Fortunately, even while waiting, she always managed to find some fun along the way.

The next day, Chen Nian escorted Fang Zhi to class again. Just as they reached the photo studio door, Zhu Dong called out to her.

Zhu Dong was holding a bag of ice creams. When he saw Chen Nian, he secretly slipped one to her.

“I talked it over with my master,” he said. “He told me I can touch the camera when he’s around. And if I bring in clients, I get commission—ten yuan for every hundred.”

Chen Nian said, “Then go find some clients.”

Zhu Dong asked, “Where do I even start?”

Chen Nian replied, “Hit the hospital first, newborn ward. Sweet-talk everyone—compliment the big sisters, big brothers, gush about how adorable the babies are. Bring one of your shop’s children’s photo albums… but honestly, the photos your shop takes aren’t that competitive.”

Zhu Dong asked, “So how do we make them competitive?”

Chen Nian said, “Give me five out of your ten-yuan commission, and I’ll tell you.”

Zhu Dong didn’t hesitate for a second. He raised his voice and said, “Deal!”

Chen Nian’s head was full of countless fast-selling business templates. Photography was just like songs or clothes—every era had its trends, every generation its tastes.

What’s more, smartphones with built-in HD cameras hadn’t come along yet, so business was a breeze.

Chen Nian picked out one idea that fit perfectly and explained it to Zhu Dong in detail.

Zhu Dong said, “The shop doesn’t have props like that.”

Chen Nian pursed her lips. “Figure that out yourself.”

Zhu Dong said, “I’m not sure I can pull off the effect you described.”

Chen Nian replied, “Your shop’s gear can handle it. Just check with your master if he’ll let you. If he won’t, come ask me again.”

Zhu Dong nodded. “Got it.”

Chen Nian stretched up on her tiptoes and patted his shoulder. “Stick with your master, watch everything, learn everything—get really comfortable with that camera first. Young people have to be willing to grind if they want to make money.”

Zhu Dong couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Master Chen, you’re pretty young yourself.”

Chen Nian arched a brow. “Exactly—so I’m tough as nails too. Standing out here on a scorching hot day, passing down wisdom to you.”

Zhu Dong looked mortified. “The shop has customers today, I…”

“Not going in today,” Chen Nian said as she unwrapped the ice cream and popped it in her mouth. “I’m swamped.”

Why hang around somewhere stuffy?

With Chen Nian’s quick wits and silver tongue, she had options everywhere.

She wandered the mall munching her ice cream, then hit the library for some proper reading. When she went back to pick up Fang Zhi, Zhu Dong flagged her down again.

“I got the props,” he whispered. “Master’s not in tonight—I’ll give it a shot on my own.”

“Nice one.” Chen Nian flashed him a thumbs-up.

She never would’ve guessed that the random kid she’d picked up was such an action-oriented gem.

On the third day, Zhu Dong showed Chen Nian a sample reel using a doll as the subject. She offered a few suggestions.

By the fourth day, the photos he showed her featured real children.

On the fifth day, Zhu Dong handed Chen Nian her commission: two yuan fifty.

The sixth day found the shop empty, so Chen Nian gave Zhu Dong a proper lesson in photography basics.

Fang Zhi’s teacher had something come up on the seventh day, postponing their class by one day. Chen Nian spent the whole day at home playing happily with Lele.

When Zhu Dong saw Chen Nian again on the eighth day, he excitedly grabbed her shoulders and insisted on getting her phone number.

“Is it really that big a deal?” Chen Nian said. “I told you I’d come by.”

“But if you don’t, how will I find you?” Zhu Dong replied.

“That would just mean our master-disciple bond has run its course,” Chen Nian said. “Don’t worry—if I want to earn some pocket change for popsicles, I’ll look you up.”

Zhu Dong eyed her. “You don’t look like someone short on cash.”

Chen Nian laughed heartily. “You’ve got a sweet mouth on you.”

She gave him the number for a convenience store near her home and warned him not to call unless it was important—just focus on his own work.

Zhu Dong pulled a ten-yuan bill from his pocket, one he’d clearly prepared in advance. “Here.”

“Wow, business is booming…” Chen Nian glanced at the bill, furrowing her brow slightly. “But don’t hand it over like this every day, or I’ll start thinking I’m really strapped for cash.”

They agreed to settle up once a month. As for the exact amount and whether Zhu Dong would report his true earnings, that was up to his conscience.

After all, the truly valuable stuff was all in Chen Nian’s head. Whether she shared it or not depended entirely on her mood.

A month passed. Fang Zhi’s singing had improved by leaps and bounds. Chen Nian took the 152.80 yuan that Zhu Dong turned over and treated Fang Zhi to a fancy meal. She even boasted that one day she’d buy her a piano.

Another couple of weeks went by, and summer vacation was drawing to a close. As Chen Nian discussed their next meeting time and place with Zhu Dong, he suddenly said, “I’m quitting my job.”

Chen Nian blinked. “What?”

Zhu Dong’s eyes sparkled with the bold ambition of youth. “I’m going into business for myself.”

“Don’t be rash…” Chen Nian cautioned.

“I’ve already borrowed the money for equipment,” Zhu Dong said. “Chen Nian, keep giving me advice, and I’ll bump your cut up to ten percent.”

“You’re just starting out, so it’ll be tough at first. Five percent is fine for now. Once you’re on track…” Chen Nian paused, her grin turning utterly infuriating. “I want twenty percent.”