Chapter 12

He took Situ Ye back to the office and began processing the photos. Lin Ze worked on the article while Situ Ye, with coffee in one hand and a mouse in the other, used another computer to edit the images.

Colleagues joked, “Who’s this? Lin Ze, your friend? Why is he still wearing an apron?”

Lin Ze smiled, “Yeah, my personal photographer. Waiter, send the photos over.”

Situ Ye’s eyebrows scrunched into a “囧” shape. “Don’t listen to him. I’m just here to deliver takeout. I noticed your Nescafé tastes awful.”

Lin Ze framed the news story around the police team’s heroic rescue and the killing of the murderer. He had Situ Ye send over the photos, arranged them into a series, and forwarded them to the police captain. After reviewing them, the captain replied, “Thanks,” and added that he could accept them but needed to check with his superiors first.

If it were anyone else, Lin Ze might have thought they were pushing their luck, but the captain had always been polite and courteous. Lin Ze decided he wanted to befriend him and promised to make any necessary changes if requested.

Soon, a message came back—the higher-ups hadn’t returned yet, but they tentatively asked if the leadership could be mentioned. Lin Ze agreed without hesitation, requested the relevant details, cut out 90% of the content, and left only the official title and name in the article.

After pairing the text with the images, stamping it, and handing it to the editor, Lin Ze specifically instructed that if they were going to run the story, they shouldn’t alter his layout—it was already formatted for the front page.

He knew the editor wouldn’t dare scrap it—she was practically drooling over it.

After submitting the draft, it was time to clock out. He hailed a cab to take Situ Ye home. Situ Ye, still shaken from witnessing a murder scene for the first time, remained silent for a long time.

Lin Ze patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Situ Ye replied, “No problem. It was an unforgettable experience.”

Both exhaled in relief. Situ Ye went back to work, and Lin Ze headed home to eat and sleep.

The next day, the front-page headline the editor-in-chief had prepared was bumped by Lin Ze’s story. “Scorching Summer, Housing Market Heats Up Again” was replaced with “Serial Killer Brought to Justice in Our City.” The front-page photo featured the hostage mother and child, the police, and onlookers—a single image that spoke volumes.

A vertical row of smaller images ran alongside it, showing the killer being shot and falling from the fifth floor, with some parts blurred.

The third page included a simulated community map Lin Ze had prepared, detailing the terrain, arrows, the sniper’s position, and the sequence of events. Below that were excerpts from the ‘Chengdu Evening News’ about the killer’s background and how he met his end in Chongqing.

When Lin Ze arrived at work the next day, the editor-in-chief personally sought him out. “Today’s headline was excellent. This is the kind of work we need. Keep it up.”

Lin Ze took the initiative. “Chief, can I request a photographer?”

The editor-in-chief hesitated. “The photography team is a bit stretched, but…”

Lin Ze replied, “I’d like to bring in my own photographer. He’ll work exclusively with me, and we’ll pay him the same as the photography team.”

Lin Ze had come prepared. He opened his iPad and showed the editor-in-chief Situ Ye’s portfolio. “He took yesterday’s photos. If you’re unsure, we can put him on a three-month trial. How about it?”

The editor-in-chief responded, “Run it by Director Li first. Let him take a look.”

Lin Ze went to see the director. After reviewing Situ Ye’s work, the director commented, “Have him send his resume to my email. But Lin Ze, don’t slack off. Stay sharp.”

Lin Ze had finally fulfilled the favor Situ Ye had asked of him long ago—helping him find a job.

Yesterday’s headline was settled, but a new one was already brewing. Lin Ze skimmed through the day’s news, planning to reference another report. Tomorrow, he’d use a Xinhua News Agency release.

Today, Situ Ye was off. Lin Ze went straight to his place. Situ Ye had just woken up at past ten and was brushing his teeth. His apartment was tidy. His roommate, a girl, left at six every morning, taking over an hour to commute via light rail, with only two days off a month—another hardworking soul.

“Mmph… hmm, heh.” Situ Ye opened the door, grinning and nodding at Lin Ze.

Lin Ze had brought some fruit, washing and eating it at the dining table. Situ Ye finished brushing his teeth and made coffee. “What brings you here?”

Lin Ze grinned, “Missed you, Mr. Situ.”

Situ Ye chuckled. “Had breakfast yet?”

Lin Ze lounged in his chair lazily. “Yeah, just ate.”

Situ Ye, wearing an apron, was simmering pumpkin porridge in the kitchen. The aroma made Lin Ze’s mouth water. Despite his protests, he ended up eating a bowl and two custard buns. Situ Ye peeled the paper off the buns and asked, “Will yesterday’s photos get a fee? When’s payday?”

“That’s all you care about?” Lin Ze was amused.

“I’m broke, man,” Situ Ye admitted.

Lin Ze suddenly remembered Situ Ye was actually older than him. “What are you eating? Taotie’s custard buns—12 yuan a box. Rent here must be a few hundred. And that tiny piece of pumpkin from Green Workshop was six yuan. No wonder you’re broke.”

Situ Ye laughed.

“There’s a fee, but it’ll be paid next month. I’ll give it to you then,” Lin Ze explained.

“How much?” Situ Ye asked eagerly.

Even though they were talking about money, Situ Ye didn’t come off as annoying.

Lin Ze teased, “How much do you want? Give me a number so I can ask the editor-in-chief.”

Situ Ye thought for a moment. “A hundred? If your editor likes it, he can call me anytime.”

Lin Ze was clearly messing with him, barely holding back laughter. “What about your job?”

“Colleagues can cover for me. I love photography. It’s fine. Look—”

He went to his room and brought out a photo album. Lin Ze flipped through it while eating custard buns. The earlier photos Situ Ye had shared were street shots of Chongqing, but this album showcased landscapes from all over China.

Clouds over Lhasa, skies above Lijiang, waters of Jiuzhaigou, flowers in Wuyuan, snow on Cangshan Mountain, moonlight over Erhai Lake…

Lin Ze was stunned.

If Situ Ye’s previous photos told stories of Chongqing, this album was an entirely new world. Each photo had a brief caption beneath it—some of National Geographic quality. But what shocked Lin Ze the most was seeing ‘Motuo’—a remote part of Tibet accessible only by foot. Situ Ye had been there too.

Every single photo could be printed as a postcard, mesmerizing viewers. Lin Ze pored over them for a long time, deeply impressed.

After finishing, Situ Ye handed him another album—this one filled with portraits. People from Guizhou, Yunnan, Beijing, Shanghai… elderly faces lined with wrinkles, children playing in the streets.

“Damn… being a newspaper photographer would be a waste of your talent,” Lin Ze rarely swore.

“Come on, you’re overpraising me,” Situ Ye laughed. “It’s just a hobby.”

Lin Ze lingered on one photo. “I think this is your best candid shot.”

The photo showed a small courtyard beside the Potala Palace.

Dozens of little red-robed monks, no older than five or six, were running toward a side temple entrance from all directions. The blue sky, snow-capped mountains, red robes, and children created a striking contrast. The angle was perfect—even the fluttering hems of their robes and bare feet were visible.

“Did the temple bell ring? They’re all running back,” Lin Ze asked.

“Yep,” Situ Ye replied. “The little monks were playing, then the bell rang for prayer time. I caught the moment.”

Lin Ze murmured, “This photo makes you hear the bell. It’s transcendent.”

Situ Ye smiled without responding. Lin Ze amused himself by imagining quirky headlines for Situ Ye’s photos. But when he turned the page, Situ Ye took the album back. “That’s it. The rest isn’t worth seeing.”

“Hey!” Lin Ze protested, but Situ Ye had already put it away.

Lin Ze got up to clear the table, sensing the album held many memories for Situ Ye. “How long did it take you to capture all this?”

“Three or four years,” Situ Ye replied. “I wanted to travel all over China. When I ran out of money, I’d work odd jobs, save up, and hit the road again. But my bike got stolen in Wanzhou, so I came to Chongqing and started at Starbucks. This year’s been rough—even my laptop was stolen. Luckily, the thief didn’t take my albums.”

“How much does Starbucks pay you?” Lin Ze asked.

“1,800 during probation, 2,200 to 2,500 after. Why? Want to learn to make coffee?”

“After tax? Any benefits?”

“Do they tax 2,200? Mr. Reporter, don’t mock us low-income folks.”

Lin Ze grinned. “So how long are you staying in Chongqing?”

“Until I save enough to leave. But it’s tough now. Prices are insane.”

“How much have you saved?”

“Zero. I’m 20,000 in credit card debt, juggling payments. Ah, someone please take me in! Mr. Reporter, I can warm your bed, cook, be a top, a bottom, or vers, do all sorts of exotic foreign positions, raid dungeons, dominate PvP, charm in public, excel in the kitchen, fight off mistresses, brawl with thugs, heal the whole raid, and tank the Lich King! Please adopt me!!”

Lin Ze was speechless.

He nearly dropped the soapy dishes. Situ Ye came into the kitchen to help.

“I’ll do it. I ate your food, so I’ll help out,” Lin Ze offered.

Situ Ye dried the dishes with a towel. “You’ve drunk so much of my iced water—what’s one meal?”

Lin Ze deadpanned, “Isn’t iced water free? I could get it from anyone.”

Situ Ye laughed and flicked the towel at him. Lin Ze retaliated by splashing water in his face.

“Mine’s special. It has my secret ingredient—saliva,” Situ Ye said seriously.

Lin Ze: “I recorded that! I’ll play it for your manager this afternoon! Enjoy unemployment!”

Situ Ye grinned. “Working this afternoon? Let me take you to Liberation Monument and Chaotianmen. I’ll teach you street photography.”

The mention of Chaotianmen reminded Lin Ze of being mistaken for a suicide jumper last time. He wanted to vanish. “No thanks. It’s too hot. Somewhere cooler.”

Situ Ye suggested, “How about Ciqikou? I found a path by the river last time. Nice atmosphere.”

Lin Ze thought it over. “Sure. Zheng Jie’s helping out at the Shapingba branch today. We can grab chicken giblets by the river in the evening.”

Situ Ye: “Let me shower first.”

Lin Ze finished putting away the dishes and wiped the stove. Situ Ye, shirtless and toned, headed to the bathroom.

This guy’s in good shape, Lin Ze thought. Traveling all over the country must keep him fit. I should exercise more too.

The sound of water ran in the bathroom. Lin Ze called out, “Situ.”

“Yeah?” Situ Ye replied. “What’s up, Lin?”

Lin Ze: “…”

“Can you drive?” Lin Ze asked.

“Yeah,” Situ Ye said. “Haven’t in a while. You getting a license?”

Lin Ze hesitated, then asked, “I need a photographer. Want to join the newspaper?”

The bathroom fell silent. Lin Ze turned on the tap to fill the kettle. “Base salary plus bonuses is around 2,800. The base isn’t high, but there’s extra for published photos—70 per shot. You can also freelance or submit elsewhere. Decent full-time photographers at our level make 6,000 to 7,000 a month. After some experience here, jumping ship or freelancing will be easy. But you’d need to sign a one-year contract. There’s a car you can drive—double as my chauffeur. We’ll partner on interviews. Gas and parking are reimbursed.”

A frenzied scream came from the bathroom.

Lin Ze had expected this.

But the next words out of Situ Ye’s mouth were:

“TURN OFF THE KITCHEN TAP—!!! I’M BURNING!!”

Lin Ze facepalmed.

That same day, Situ Ye went to the newspaper for an interview, bringing another portfolio for the editor-in-chief. The editor wasn’t entirely convinced, worried his style might not suit news photography—Situ Ye had no prior experience as a photojournalist. But with Lin Ze’s strong recommendation, he reluctantly agreed.

Lin Ze’s photography skills were amateur at best. He knew partnering with Situ Ye would elevate his reporting, but he couldn’t rely on him forever. He wanted to learn from Situ Ye—and teach him in return. Lin Ze believed he had plenty to offer too: a perspective on society, people, and the world.

They’d make a great team.

After the interview, Lin Ze went back to the editor-in-chief to explain his vision. The editor finally agreed to a three-month probation for Situ Ye at 2,400 yuan, with a formal contract afterward at the standard photographer rate.

Situ Ye wore a loose tank top and beige shorts—an outfit that might look effeminate on a twink, but on him, with his height, chest muscles, and leg hair, it was rugged and sunny.

He stood nervously by the water cooler, watching reporters make calls, his sports bag slung over his shoulder.

Lin Ze could tell Situ Ye really wanted the job. “Alright, start tomorrow. No—quit your job this afternoon and come with me for an interview. Let’s see… skip the press release. We’ll go to the Labor Bureau. The new minimum wage is about to rise—that’s our story.”

Situ Ye asked, “Can I handle it? What if the editor hates my photos?”

Lin Ze replied, “Ignore him. If I say you’re good, you’re good. If I say you’re not, you’re not. I’m your boss, Situ.”

Situ Ye protested, “But if I fail probation, Starbucks won’t take me back.”

Lin Ze responded, “Relax. I’ve burned bridges before. You’ve got skills, looks, charm—you can cook, fight, raid, tank. Can’t find work? You could always be a gigolo.”

Situ Ye muttered, “Jobs are hard to find, darling. Gigolos can’t pick clients, and weirdos flick your dick. It’s tough.”

Reporters nearby eyed them with gossipy interest.

Lin Ze raised his voice. “If you fail probation, I’ll demand a driver! I’ll pester the editor until he agrees, darling! Stop overthinking it!”

The reporters laughed. Situ Ye added, “But will he agree? Your rank isn’t that high…”

Lin Ze wanted to collapse. He dragged Situ Ye downstairs and punched his arm. “I never realized you were this naggy!”

Situ Ye murmured, “I’ve never done this before…”

Lin Ze offered, “If you fail, I’ll hire you privately! 2,000 a month, room and board—you can sleep in my living room.”

Situ Ye immediately agreed, “Deal! Special services included. Let’s sign a contract.”

Lin Ze: “Sign my ass. My word is my bond… Wait! All that nagging—was this your goal from the start?!”

Situ Ye grinned and hurried downstairs. “Where’s the car? I brought my license.”

Lin Ze tossed him the keys. They drove back to Bei Cheng Tian Street, where Situ Ye quit Starbucks. When he returned, he was wearing sunglasses. “Where to, boss? Your orders.”