Work Text:
Lu Guang never really was one to take many photos.
Sure, he worked at a photography establishment, but he didn’t take many photos. He believes more in experiencing things in the moment- after all things, both good and bad, come to an end eventually. That was also part of the reason he refused to use social media- that, and the way he wanted his memories to be private. His own, private experiences, if you will.
Cheng Xiaoshi, on the other hand, was a photo taking fiend, and puerile in the pictures he took as well. Cute cat? Take a picture. Silly sign? Take a picture. Something that Cheng Xiaoshi and only Cheng Xiaoshi looks at and finds funny? Take a picture and spam Lu Guang for the next week on how it’s peak comedy and how Lu Guang has the humor of an undertaker.
This, of course, is all to say that Cheng Xiaoshi’s camera roll was filled with useless photos.
For the many years they’ve known each other, Cheng Xiaoshi was never able to clear his camera roll. It was a genuine issue, with him having over 10,000 photos and videos even after several “deep cleans” of his camera roll. Well over 64GB of phone storage, forever occupied.
Really, even though Cheng Xiaoshi was 21 years old, he still acted childish. It was hilarious, really, watching him rage quit a game after losing to Lu Guang and Qiao Ling one too many times (Mario Kart always ended with warfare. Never underestimate the power of one too many blue shells or banana peels, and don’t even think about letting them NEAR a gaming counsel with Among Us on it. Do NOT ask about the horror stories that stemmed from the night they tried playing it together).
Even though their clients often said Lu Guang was the more mature of the two, Lu Guang was the one who was most aware of how serious Cheng Xiaoshi could get when the scenario called for it. He wasn’t a total airhead.
Lu Guang remembers clearly how serious Cheng Xiaoshi had been, honed into the rhythm of the basketball hitting the court. Watching, observing all possible routes, finding the best of them to reach the hoop. He weaved, dribbled, feinted, and finally, shot the ball into the hoop, finding the weakest points in Lu Guang’s defense. It was because of basketball that Lu Guang and Cheng Xiaoshi had become partners, even though their personalities had very little overlap.
This stark difference between the two was made clear especially during missions. Cheng Xiaoshi’s stubborn bleeding heart, trying to save the doomed, to Lu Guang’s cold, objective heart, assessing the situation and trying to achieve the best outcome. Perhaps it was the differences in their abilities that showed the difference the best: Cheng Xiaoshi would live the lives of the person who took the photo, experiencing their lives as his own, feeling their emotions, while Lu Guang was only an observer.
And yet, they worked exceptionally well together despite everything.
Qiao Ling would often joke around with them, saying that Lu Guang had to be the brain to Cheng Xiaoshi’s brawn, and they were like Yin and Yang. Light and dark, pathos and logos, two parts of a whole, complementing and fitting together perfectly.
Cheng Xiaoshi was obsessed with hand pulled noodles from this one food chain nearby. Lu Guang was usually his unwilling victim to accompany him, as was today.
“I’m getting an extra-large bowl of noodles with lotus root and beef broth,” Cheng Xiaoshi grinned, scanning the QR code on the restaurant table. “And some lamb skewers. Five of them. D’ you want anything?”
Pondering the question, Lu Guang swiped through the menu on his own phone. “It’s useless to get more noodles since you’re planning on getting an extra-large one already,” Lu Guang decided, shaking his head. “Why do you need an extra-large bowl, anyways? The restaurant gives free refills.”
Cheng Xiaoshi rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I have a big appetite today! Our mission was successful. I think I deserve this much, at least.”
Lu Guang sighed. “Okay, but we’re sharing a bowl. There’s no way you’re finishing an extra large bowl by yourself.”
“Fine by me,” Cheng Xiaoshi shrugged. “Just don’t hog the whole bowl.”
Cheng Xiaoshi placed their order, tapping the “finish checkout” button and putting his phone down onto the table, looking dreamily as he watched the chef in the back hand pull noodles for other customers, the fragrant aroma of soup and grilled meat filling the restaurant.
“Remember when we helped those two friends, the ones with the noodle shop?” Cheng Xiaoshi grinned as their order arrived, picking up his phone and taking a picture before grabbing a lamb skewer, biting onto it. “The taste of the noodles at this restaurant reminds me of the taste of the noodles I tried in the picture,” he said, in between bites.
Lu Guang hummed, taking his own pair of chopsticks and taking a chunk out of the thinly pulled noodles, the savory taste of the broth flowing through his mouth. Biting the end of the noodle off (if he didn’t, he’d actually end up having the entire bowl of noodles- hand pulled noodles were always one, long, continuous strand), Lu Guang chewed and swallowed. “Really?”
“Yeah, the noodles were served just like this, with lots of broth and good noodles,” Cheng Xiaoshi nodded. “Aiya, I wish I could go back into the photo and take another bite out of those noodles,” he sighed, head hanging as he chewed on his lamb skewer. “I wish you could’ve been there, too. Those noodles… I’ll never have better noodles than that in my life, I think,” Cheng Xiaoshi reminisced, turning his attention back to the food in front of them as he set his empty skewer aside, starting to slurp the noodles.
Lu Guang remained silent. “We can’t ever enter that photo again,” he started, picking up a piece of lotus root and talking between bites. “But-”
“I know, I know, stop acting like my nagging mother,” Cheng Xiaoshi groaned. “I was just saying-”
“But I would’ve liked to enter that photo with you,” Lu Guang interrupted, finishing his sentence.
Cheng Xiaoshi sat there, processing the interruption, before breaking out into a giant grin. “Hey, Lu-ge, don’t be sad!! We’re eating noodles together now, aren’t we?”
Lu Guang simply planted his palm to his face and let out an internal sigh of affectionate exasperation. “I suppose so,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips as the two continued their meal, the clink of chopsticks against glass and bantering taking over the conversation.
“Let’s have lots of noodles together in the future, ‘kay?”
Lu Guang sat in front of an extra-large bowl of lotus root and beef broth noodles with five lamb skewers on the side and cursed himself for getting so much food without inviting anybody else to eat with him. Unwrapping two pairs of chopsticks encased in paper, he left one pair in the seat across from him, looking at it with a heavy gaze.
The low hum of chatter from the other tables around him and the sound of chefs making dishes slowly faded into the background as he imagined Cheng Xiaoshi sitting across from him, ranting about a new game he started or a new boba place he found.
Lu Guang ate the savory noodles, a nolstalgic smile formed on his face as he noticed two friends- a couple, perhaps?- sharing a bowl of noodles, laughing and joking with each other as they excitedly chatted.
“Want to go see the carnival together soon?”
“Oh, the one by the harbor? I don’t think I have any lessons Sunday, I think.”
“Really? I can’t wait, it’s been so long since we’ve been able to go anywhere together.”
They giggled together, teasingly shoving each other, and Lu Guang was reminded of how Cheng Xiaoshi and himself would behave during their high school years. Lu Guang was by no means a talker, much preferring to save his words but for the perfect moment, but it reminded him of an old memory he’d nearly forgotten.
Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang had decided to go to a fair together.
Business had been slow; no special missions to go back in time, not many requests to take photographs, that sort of thing. Since there happened to be a festival happening nearby, the two decided to go.
The streets were filled with high school students who just finished their gaokao, and were either celebrating their scores or mourning them. Either way, the students were here to de-stress and have fun.
“I’ve never been so glad I’m not in highschool anymore,” Cheng Xiaoshi groaned, shuddering as he remembered the standardized test all high school students had to take. Lu Guang recalled how Cheng Xiaoshi had gotten a decent score- he didn’t land in the top 100 in the prefecture, of course, but at least he wasn’t at rock bottom. He’d yelled out loud in joy when he received his score.
Vendors lined the street, promoting their booths, items or food. From water gun booths to win prizes to sour and sweet tanghulu sellers, loud speakers blasted the area with music and advertisements, causing Lu Guang to sigh as he felt the headache from overstimulation approaching.
The two walked around, playing at some of the stalls (mainly the basketball one- it infuriated Cheng Xiaoshi beyond belief that the hoop was literally the tiniest bit larger than the ball so the difficulty increased threefold to get it in) and even won some prizes, amongst which were a black and a white cat Cheng Xiaoshi won. He had given the white cat to Lu Guang, claiming that they were the split image of the other- which Lu Guang still didn’t understand to this day, by the way.
That day, Cheng Xiaoshi had managed to convince Lu Guang that waiting thirty minutes for a five minute ferris wheel ride was somehow worth it, and they ended up in the same carriage, amiable silence settling down between them.
“Look at the view from up here,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmured, taking out his phone to snap a picture of the scenery, the multicolored lights from the illuminated skyscrapers reflecting in Cheng Xiaoshi’s eyes, making them shine like flecks of gold under the sun.
"I'm glad you think it was worth the wait," Lu Guang replied, averting his gaze.
"Oh c'mon, a festival is hardly the place to be stuck up. Don't pretend like you're not enjoying this," Cheng Xiaoshi pouted, rolling his eyes as he laughed, lifting his phone’s camera to face Lu Guang and snapping a picture or two, his shifting around rocking their cart slightly from side to side.
Sighing, Lu Guang turned his head to look outside. "Well, it's not like this is my first time on a ferris wheel, so naturally I'm not in such a surprised state as you are. But if you're enjoying the ride, that's fine with me."
The cart silenced as the ride was coming to an end.
"Ah, it was nice while it lasted. It's funny how fast the passing of time really is—traveling to the past makes me forget about our own futures." Cheng Xiaoshi remarked.
"It's not like you to think so deeply. What brought this up?" Lu Guang questioned.
"I'm going to ignore what you said,” Cheng Xiaoshi groaned. “I was just wondering- what do you think will happen to us?"
"Hm?"
"Like, long-term. You don't have to answer, haha, I was only reflecting I guess."
Not knowing how to answer, Lu Guang wondered what Cheng Xiaoshi had meant, the silence resuming, this time heavy, as the ride came to a stop and they waited as the passengers in front of them got off the ferris wheel.
Lu Guang stared at the photo on his phone, one of a city view with the carriage bars of the ferris wheel clipping into the picture. Lu Guang sat on a chair facing the window, the moon bright, casting long shadows throughout the room. It felt empty. In fact, the entire establishment felt eerily quiet, as it often did after the incident ; there was no yelling as the three of them- Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling, that is- yelled and laughed as they played video games until the crack of dawn, when they’d flop onto their beds and yell goodnight to each other, Lu Guang often falling asleep to the sound of soft snores from the other rooms.
A photography establishment with an employee stuck in the past, another ignoring it, and a third unable to see the future. Fitting, but most of all, laughable.
Lu Guang was the one who was given Cheng Xiaoshi’s phone after his death. The two had exchanged passwords at some point- when they did so, Lu Guang had forgotten by this point, but it was to commemorate the anniversary of their partnership.
It was a fairly old model of phone, which Cheng Xiaoshi had stubbornly clung to, refusing to get a newer model, stating how it would be a pain to transfer all of his photos onto a new phone. The password was 1024, the date of Lu Guang’s birthday- and Lu Guang’s phone, which was newer than Cheng Xiaoshi’s, had a password of 041400 - Cheng Xiaoshi’s birthday.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s phone screen was cracked in several places from both missions and dropping it, and he’d never bothered to get it replaced.
It’d become a regular occurrence for Lu Guang to scroll through Cheng Xiaoshi’s photos at night when he was unable to sleep, haunted by both happy and painful memories. It was bittersweet; on one hand, he was able to see Cheng Xiaoshi again, but on the other hand, it also served as a reminder Cheng Xiaoshi was no longer amongst the living.
Qiao Ling had withdrawn from the business. She’d moved out, and started sharing an apartment with Xu Shanshan and Dong Yi, who had gotten together shortly before Cheng Xiaoshi had died. The two still kept in touch, but it was hard to laugh and make references without being reminded of the tragedy. For Lu Guang, grief was silent, a worm slowly hollowing him out. But for Qiao Ling, grief was loud, a kind of sadness that slowly drowned her, making her more distant and out of touch.
Lu Guang and the photography business became more of an obligation now. For something that Cheng Xiaoshi had loved so much (although he did slack off during some shifts), Lu Guang would try to take care of it now that Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t. It was calming, to be surrounded by the developing photos in the darkroom, and Lu Guang finally understood why it was Cheng Xiaoshi’s favorite place to be.
Surrounded by photos taken by loved ones (and the occasional deadpan face that was a telltale sign of being forced to dress up for a photo for a formal occasion), the red tinted room felt welcoming, even if the color left a bad taste in his mouth.
These photos told the stories of people who were loved.
The majority of gunshot wounds do not kill on the spot. Although lethal shots do happen, they’re certainly not as common as video games or other media make them out to be. Shooting a gun in real life isn’t the same as moving a crosshair in a FPS game, and they’re certainly not as merciful.
As the tell-tale sound of a bang resounded throughout the sewer, time seemed to slow down. It almost seemed like if Lu Guang could move fast enough, he could grab the bullet. Yet, with the speed of the bullet slowing down, Lu Guang’s own movements felt heavy, seemingly with the weight of hundreds of different futures and outcomes sitting on his back.
And yet he couldn’t move. Cheng Xiaoshi was right there, in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything to stop the bullet.
A shrill scream pierced the air. Was that from him?
“NO,” he yelled, voice raw as the bullet pierced Cheng Xiaoshi’s stomach, causing him to stagger backwards and collapse on the ground he was just standing on a few moments prior.
The moment Cheng Xiaoshi’s knees hit the ground, time suddenly resumed to its normal pace, now seeming too fast. Lu Guang sprung up, fist at the ready and punting Qian Jin on the jaw followed by a knee to his crotch, toppling him down to the ground.
Lu Guang was never the fight type, but suddenly, being calm, calculated and following the plan perfectly didn’t matter any more as Lu Guang saw red. Punch after punch landed, one after another. His knuckles felt like they were about to shatter, and although many of his hits were blocked by Qian Jin’s defensive stance, Lu Guang kept pummeling him.
“L…u… gua…n…g,” a hoarse voice called out.
That was all it took. A glance back, for Lu Guang to see Cheng Xiaoshi bleeding out. A second of hesitation that gave Qian Jin an opportunity to attack.
A punch landed on Lu Guang’s cheek, red blossoming upon pale skin, and Lu Guang was thrown off of Qian Jin, and Lu Guang hissed in pain as he felt skin scrape against concrete.
Luckily, Xiao Li had arrived just in time, taking over the combat with Qian Jin.
Half-limping and half-crawling over towards Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang winced in pain whenever he took a step forward.
Cradling Cheng Xiaoshi in his arms, his face tried to contort into a weak smile, but only managed a grimace. “I’ll- we’ll get you help,” Lu Guang said, his usually impassive face creased in worry.
Cheng Xiaoshi choked out a laugh. “It’s fine, Lu Guang. I don’t,” he wheezed. “I don’t think I’m making it out alive.”
“No, you have to,” Lu Guang replied, almost in an inaudible whisper.
“Hey,” Cheng Xiaoshi smiled. “Visit my grave once in a while, ‘kay?”
“You’re making it out of here alive,” Lu Guang repeated, almost like a mantra, a lie that if he convinced himself enough it could be the truth.
Cheng Xiaoshi’s labored breathing started to dull, and his eyes began to slip shut.
With a small smile on his face, Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart stopped.
“Hey, Cheng Xiaoshi,” Lu Guang murmured, a photo album and flower in hand as he stood alone in the cemetery. “How have you been?” he asked, placing a daisy next to his headstone, the white blossom freshly cut from the plant. “I hope you’re doing well.”
Upon placing the items, Lu Guang smiled a little bit. “I- we,” Lu Guang corrected, “still miss you. It’s been two years- well, actually only three months since I’ve last visited. So much, yet so little has happened.”
“You know me. I’ve never been the greatest with words. That’s why I brought this photo album to show you what’s new,” he said, crouching down to face the headstone.
Flipping the album to a page around the center of the photo album, Lu Guang prepared to recount the memories he had made. Maybe, just maybe, these photographs could reach Cheng Xiaoshi, and he could experience the joys himself.
Lu Guang never really was one to take photos; quite frankly, it was because he never really had anyone to take photos for.
Now, he finally did.