Chapter 37: “I’m Right By Your Side.” Part 1

After sitting down, Li Wuhui stayed silent for a long time.

But she gathered up her own blanket too and wrapped it around Qiu Yiran layer by layer.

Turning Qiu Yiran into a tightly wrapped bamboo shoot.

Qiu Yiran blinked in confusion.

Li Wuhui sat on the ground hugging her knees and slowly breathed out two words,

“It’s cold.”

Qiu Yiran paused for a moment and said, “Thanks.”

With that, she struggled to stretch her hand out from inside and unwrapped the thick blankets.

“I’m not cold.” Knowing what she wanted to do, Li Wuhui pressed down on her movements.

Qiu Yiran looked at her somewhat helplessly. “Actually, you’re not much better off than me.”

“What?”

Qiu Yiran sighed and looked at her wind-reddened nose tip, saying slowly,

“You still like to act tough. That hasn’t changed at all.”

Li Wuhui had been seen through. She silently withdrew her hand.

Qiu Yiran didn’t say much else.

She only unwrapped one layer of the blanket.

Then, mimicking what Li Wuhui had just done, she bundled up Li Wuhui completely.

Only then did she settle back down, hugging her own blanket contentedly.

And so they became two fresh bamboo shoots, growing side by side, sharing this patch of darkness.

The thick felt of the yurt blocked out the noisy prairie scenes, but laughter and faint firelight still drifted in through the gaps.

Qiu Yiran was immersed in the darkness, with the firelight flickering weakly across her face.

Li Wuhui watched her.

Suddenly, she remembered the past—

Qiu Yiran had a darkroom where she would sometimes spend hours developing photos, forgetting to eat or sleep when she got busy.

Li Wuhui usually didn’t understand any of Qiu Yiran’s stuff. Her knowledge of photography was practically zero.

She still remembered the first time she went in. Qiu Yiran had mysteriously covered her eyes and led her inside, saying she had a surprise.

She hadn’t expected the darkroom to be so pitch black, nor had she realized that developing film was such a complicated process, requiring so many manual steps one by one.

And Qiu Yiran in that state was someone she’d never seen before.

Different from the clumsy person who had hugged a Christmas tree and nearly poked her in the eye, and different from the one in the underground bar who had accurately found her and carried her out on her back…

Qiu Yiran in the darkroom was special, like the hidden variant in a blind box series called “Qiu Yiran.”

She led her into this red world, her palm warm. When she turned back to look at her, there were sheets of drying photo paper hanging between their eyes.

Qiu Yiran wore framed glasses, neither smiling nor frowning, expressionless as she slightly lowered her head to pull out the negatives, mix chemicals, and adjust the temperature…

Her focus and caution in this were unlike any moment before, until the light and shadows and grains finally emerged in the developer.

The red light of the darkroom flowed, their heads close together as they held their breath, watching the image in the photo gradually emerge from the liquid bit by bit—

It was Li Wuhui.

Li Wuhui in Qiu Yiran’s eyes.

It was the first set of photos Qiu Yiran had formally taken of her.

It took Li Wuhui a long time to recover.

She had never imagined—

That developing film could be such a magical thing, or that watching herself emerge like that would feel this way.

At the time, she hadn’t known—

That she would later become a model who treated flashlights and lenses like air, that this photography master she couldn’t even dream of now would repeatedly develop her face in the darkroom, and that a casual photo of hers would be seen by thousands…

So under the wandering red light back then, she just looked up at Qiu Yiran, realizing it belatedly in a daze,

“So this is why you insisted on shooting me on film?”

And Qiu Yiran.

Just tightened her grip on her hand in the darkroom amid the hanging photos.

Gazing at her softly through the red light.

Then, very suddenly, she turned her face and kissed her cheek.

Li Wuhui didn’t react. “Why’d you kiss me out of nowhere?”

Qiu Yiran laughed to herself.

She didn’t say why.

Mysteriously, she lowered her head and stared very seriously at the pool full of flowing Li Wuhui.

Less than a minute later, she suddenly came over and kissed her mouth.

Li Wuhui was stunned. “Qiu Yiran, you—”

She didn’t finish.

Her face was suddenly cupped, and another soft kiss landed on her eyes.

Then her eyebrows, nose, eyes, chin…

In short.

In the end, Qiu Yiran kissed her entire face, cradling it and grinning as she said,

“I really do love you.”

–

Even now, Li Wuhui still didn’t fully understand how Qiu Yiran had reached that conclusion back then.

She only remembered what came after.

After that car accident.

Qiu Yiran still loved hiding in the darkroom. She wasn’t developing photos or meticulously adjusting the temperature to keep the negatives clean.

She just stayed quietly inside, hugging her knees in a daze, doing nothing, thinking nothing—not even turning on the red light.

Like a wilted, gloomy mushroom.

Li Wuhui had once thought—

As long as she cared for it diligently, as long as she was patient and poured in nourishment and care, the mushroom would grow back one day and bravely face the world again.

But later, this mushroom suddenly ran away from her side.

Turning Li Wuhui herself into an abandoned mushroom.

Li Wuhui hugged her blanket and quietly thought in the yurt in Kazakhstan—

Today was this runaway mushroom’s thirtieth birthday.

Should she take out the birthday gift she’d prepared?

“Happy birthday.” Li Wuhui suddenly said.

Qiu Yiran jumped in surprise, probably not expecting her to speak up suddenly.

As if her thoughts had been yanked away.

Qiu Yiran’s eyes were a bit dazed. It took her a while to react, and she said softly, “Thanks.”

This mushroom was still so polite.

“No need to thank me.” Li Wuhui said.

Her gaze fell on Qiu Yiran’s empty pant leg, lingered for an instant, then shifted away.

“Are any of those meds suitable?”

“They’re all pretty good.” Qiu Yiran said. “Did you bring them back from abroad?”

“Sort of.” Li Wuhui said.

Then she explained, “There are others back home. I didn’t bring them. I’ll have Xu Wuyi give them to you later.”

Qiu Yiran froze.

Only then did she sluggishly realize—

They were crossing borders this time, with strict inspections. That meant Li Wuhui had prepared these drugs long ago, checked the declarations repeatedly, and selected only these that could be carried out, packing them in the suitcase.

“That’s too many.”

Thinking of this, Qiu Yiran felt her nose sting. “Li Wuhui, I can’t use this many meds.”

“I hear these have great pain relief.”

Li Wuhui said,

“I remember how you used to hurt so much all the time. You couldn’t sleep at night, ill-fitting shoes hurt, walking too much caused cramps, periods made it worse, and then there was that neural phantom pain…”

“Back then, I really wanted to help you, but I had no way to.”

So now—

I’ve finally made enough to buy you expensive, effective meds.

“It’s a bit better now.” Qiu Yiran didn’t dare look at Li Wuhui’s eyes.

Better after leaving me? Li Wuhui wanted to ask that badly.

But she held back with effort.

She didn’t want to argue with Qiu Yiran a second time on her thirtieth birthday.

So she just hummed. “That’s good.”

Qiu Yiran’s breathing hitched for a second, then she quickly held it back and said again, “Thanks.”

“No need. Anyway, I just want to make myself feel better.”

Li Wuhui looked away, her tone lightening. “These aren’t many. You can use them later too.”

Qiu Yiran clenched her fingertips.

“What I mean is after we divorce.” Li Wuhui finished the sentence.

Then she said softly, “I can still help you with these things.”

Qiu Yiran didn’t reply for a long time.

Immersed in this darkness, her breathing sank like into a deep lake, probably unsure how to refuse.

After a long while, she shifted very slowly and made a sound. “We’ll see.”

“Actually, I originally had another birthday gift for you today.”

In her contemplation—

Li Wuhui still brought it up. She knew if she didn’t seize the moment today, there might not be another chance.

“You said…” Qiu Yiran hesitated as she looked over. “Isn’t the painting the birthday gift?”

“No.” Li Wuhui shook her head. “The painting was just an accident.”

“What is it then?” Qiu Yiran suddenly tensed up. “If it’s something expensive—”

She stopped midway.

Because what Li Wuhui took out was a tiny film camera.

Palm-sized, black, more like a toy than a professional camera.

Qiu Yiran fell silent.

“It’s not expensive. It was a little thing sent over by a brand before,” Li Wuhui fiddled with the film camera in her hand as she lowered her head. “Given our relationship now, it’s not right to give anything pricey, but you’d get mad if I gave you a painting, so…”

Qiu Yiran dug her nails into her palm, her breathing suddenly quickening.

“Qiu Yiran.” In the faint firelight, Li Wuhui looked up at her.

“Let me take your picture.”

“Wha…”

Qiu Yiran’s clenched palm relaxed, her breathing steadying. “What did you say?”

She hadn’t expected Li Wuhui to just want to take her photo.

“Let me take your picture.”

Li Wuhui repeated, then pulled out a new film roll.

“I’ve been practicing taking photos of people lately.”

“Why practice that all of a sudden?” Qiu Yiran asked softly.

“I’m not even thirty yet,” Li Wuhui answered frankly.

“There was a pretty good photographer before who said I had decent talent. I remember she told me—”

In the dimness, she accurately caught her eyes and smiled, saying,

“Maybe if I start this year, by thirty I could hold a photo exhibit in Paris?”

Qiu Yiran was left speechless.

She couldn’t deny it—that was something she’d said to Li Wuhui before, of course just in jest.

Now Li Wuhui was using it to shut her down.

“Then why me?” Qiu Yiran tried to refuse. “I’m no professional model.”

“Didn’t I say? Birthday gift.” Li Wuhui seemed to have her words ready.

“Anything too pricey isn’t right, you don’t want your own portrait, and I was planning to practice anyway…”

With that, she raised the film camera toward Qiu Yiran, hiding behind the dark lens and saying casually,

“So just treat this film roll as my birthday gift to you.”

Qiu Yiran instinctively reached up to block her face.

A second passed with no sound.

Only then did she realize—Li Wuhui probably hadn’t even loaded the film.

So no shutter click.

“It’s so dark. What’s there to shoot?” Qiu Yiran helplessly lowered her hand.

But Li Wuhui didn’t lower the film camera. She kept it raised to her face, peering at Qiu Yiran through the dark lens.

From behind the lens to in front of it.

Qiu Yiran wasn’t used to it.

She glanced at Li Wuhui holding the camera, then quickly looked away. “What’s wrong?”

At her question, Li Wuhui held the pose for a while longer.

Then she slowly lowered the camera and shook her head. “Nothing.”

But in the darkness, she still watched her, voice low. “Just didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

“What?” Qiu Yiran hadn’t heard.

“Nothing.”

Li Wuhui shook her head, fully snapping back. “I mean, I don’t know how to load the film.”

Qiu Yiran pressed her lips together and looked away.

Her guard was up high.

But Li Wuhui didn’t immediately ask for help. She fumbled with it herself.

It was just too dark.

And it was her first time. After much rustling, she couldn’t even find where to put the film.

After listening for a while with no success, Qiu Yiran sighed and couldn’t help but speak up.

“These cameras usually have a switch on the side. Press it to open the back—there’s a spot for the film inside. Just push it in, pull the film a bit, and tuck it away.”

Li Wuhui’s movements paused for a moment.

Then.

She felt for the switch on the side of the camera.

She pressed it, flipped open the back cover, and indeed found the empty spot Qiu Yiran had mentioned.

She removed the film roll, preparing to load it in—