đBack From LoveïŒç±ć·Čćœæ„ïŒ
đChapter 3: The Photographer, the Assistant, and the Emotional Latte
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đSetting: Downtown Chengdu â Saturday Afternoon | Outdoor CafĂ© Photo Shoot
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It was the kind of afternoon Chen Xiaoxi normally reserved for Netflix, dumplings, and aggressively avoiding responsibility. The air was crisp, the sky too blue to trust, and she was walking toward a stranger with a camera like she hadn't spent the past six months vowing never to get involved again.
"Assistant," he'd said.
Right. That was the word.
This wasn't a date. It was a spontaneous act of community service for a tall, handsome, dimpled stranger whoâunfortunatelyâunderstood emotional nuance and lighting angles. Dangerous combination.
She adjusted her scarf, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder, and approached the café where Lu Zihan was already setting up.
There he wasâcamera bag slung across his chest, bent slightly as he adjusted a tripod. His hair was slightly windblown, and he was wearing a gray hoodie under a denim jacket like some walking Pinterest board of charm.
He looked up. Grinned.
"You came," he said.
"I'm shocked too," Xiaoxi replied, dropping her canvas tote on the bench. "For the record, I'm only here for the coffee and potential character development."
"Perfect. I pay in lattes and self-awareness."
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The Shoot Begins;
Zihan had been commissioned by a local lifestyle magazine to photograph Chengdu's street cafĂ© cultureâreal people, real places, real chaos. Xiaoxi's job, unofficially, was to "look like she belonged" while holding reflectors, adjusting coffee mugs for aesthetic purposes, and roasting him when necessary.
Which was often.
"Why are you crouching like a kung fu extra?" she asked, watching him angle his camera at a croissant.
He adjusted his lens. "This is called perspective. If I shoot from above, the foam art looks like regret. From here, it says hope."
She blinked. "You are one metaphor away from becoming a spoken word poet."
He laughed and nearly dropped the camera.
They moved through the shoot location slowlyâsnapping old men playing cards, a little girl feeding pigeons, a group of teenagers laughing over bubble tea. Zihan wasn't just good with the camera; he was good with people. He made them smile without asking. He made her smile without trying.
She hated it.
Sort of.
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Coffee and Confessionals;
They sat on the café steps afterward, reviewing shots on his camera.
"You're really good," she said, surprised by the softness in her voice.
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I just assumed you were using photography as a hobby to attract emotionally unstable women."
He gave her a slow look. "Is it working?"
"...Maybe," she admitted.
He showed her a photoâa candid one of her holding a cup of coffee, caught mid-laugh, hair blown slightly by the wind.
"I didn't know you took one of me," she said, blinking.
"I didn't mean to. But it turned out to be my favorite."
Xiaoxi stared at it. She didn't look posed. Or curated. She looked... real. Happy.
Which was terrifying.
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đŠïžScene 3: Raindrops and Regrets
Of course, right as the moment turned emotionally intense, the sky betrayed them.
A single drop of rain landed on the back of Xiaoxi's neck. She flinched. Then another. Then the sky cracked open like a messy breakup text.
Zihan yanked his hoodie up and grabbed her hand.
"Come on! There's a bus stop nearby!"
They sprinted together under the sudden downpour, laughing like idiots. By the time they ducked under the awning of the nearest shelter, they were soaked, breathless, andâfor some reasonâstill holding hands.
She didn't pull away.
Neither did he.
"This feels illegal," Xiaoxi said between laughs. "I'm smiling without alcohol."
"You should try it more often."
A pause.
Their eyes met.
Close. Too close.
He lifted his hand and gently pushed a strand of wet hair from her forehead.
Her heart thudded in a way she thought it had forgotten.
But thenâlike muscle memoryâher guard slammed up.
She stepped back.
"Okay. I should go."
Zihan blinked. "Right now?"
She gave a shrug that felt forced. "I have⊠things. You know. Emotional barriers. A podcast."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but nodded. "Okay."
She turned and walked awayâfast enough to escape the moment, slow enough to regret it instantly.
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đ±Later That Night
She sat on her couch in pajamas, a bowl of noodles in her lap and absolutely no reason to feel like crying.
She opened her phone. Stared at the photo he'd sent her. That picture of her laughing.
She didn't look like someone who was protecting herself.
She looked like someone who was already fallingâand scared of it.
Her fingers hovered over his name in WeChat.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
> "Thanks for today. And for the coffee.
Sorry I ran.
I'm just... still figuring things out."
She stared at it.
Then hit Send.
 To be continued