Chapter 13: Qin the Photographer

Song Ke’er looked at the photos in her camera and felt like crying.

“What do we do? They look awful. I followed the settings from that TikTok video, so why are they no different from my usual shots?”

Zhang Xingchen rested one hand on his forehead and leaned on the railing, feeling like today’s outfit was a complete waste.

The two had specifically changed into ancient-style cosplay costumes to take good photos in Bailingxia. They both knew ancient costumes were complicated, and even though Bailingxia stayed cool in summer, layering multiple garments was unbearable.

If the photos had turned out well, that would’ve been fine—but the results crushed them.

“If I’d known this would happen, I’d have just paid a photographer.”

Song Ke’er let her hand drop, her face filled with gloom.

“Hmph, it’s all that TikTok videographer’s fault. When we get back, I’m going to roast him alive—he said anyone could take stunning photos just by following his settings.”

Zhang Xingchen took the camera from Song Ke’er and scrolled through each photo—backlit, mediocre, nothing like what they’d imagined.

“It’s not his fault. We just thought too simply. If adjusting settings alone could produce great photos, then photographers would be worthless.” Song Ke’er was disappointed, but didn’t blame anyone.

Looking at the stunning scenery around her, her mood slowly improved.

At that moment, she suddenly saw a handsome… older brother walking toward them, holding a camera and shooting distant scenes. His posture and the smile on his face as he reviewed the photos clearly showed he was very satisfied.

Song Ke’er nudged Zhang Xingchen’s arm, signaling her to look over.

Zhang Xingchen turned and stared, stunned for a moment, then realized—she leaned close to Song Ke’er and whispered, “Ask him to take our photos?”

Song Ke’er nodded immediately: “Based on my years of experience, his shooting posture, and his handsome face—I’m certain he knows photography.”

Zhang Xingchen rolled her eyes: “If I didn’t know you were a total looks-based addict, I’d believe you.”

“So, do you want to try it?” Song Ke’er didn’t care about the “looks addict” label.

“You ask him.”

Although Zhang Xingchen was carefree around Song Ke’er, she couldn’t muster the courage to approach a stranger man and ask him to photograph them.

“Hmph, coward!”

Song Ke’er tossed her head and walked toward him.

Qin Yun was checking his system panel; the first task requirement had been fully completed, and the three photos were marked by the system. He compared them repeatedly and confirmed that among similar shots, these three were the best.

Just then, a voice suddenly came from beside him.

“Hey, handsome, can I see your photos?”

He turned and saw a petite girl in ancient-style COS attire—unknown character, but her makeup was exquisitely done. Simply looking at her, she was very pretty; what she looked like without makeup was anyone’s guess.

A little farther away stood another COS girl, likely portraying a male character—both seemed quite young.

“What did you say?” Qin Yun asked.

Song Ke’er pointed at his camera and repeated: “Hey, handsome, can I see your photos?”

This time Qin Yun heard clearly. He handed her the camera. “Sure. Who are you COSing?”

“Can’t you tell?” Song Ke’er asked, surprised. “I’m Zhao Ling’er. She’s Li Xiaoyao.”

“Uh…” Qin Yun lied, “Now that you mention it, I remember—it really does look like them.”

“Hehe, right? I thought so too.”

Song Ke’er grinned proudly, then looked down at the camera’s viewfinder. The moment the first photo appeared, her mouth opened slightly in shock, and an involuntary exclamation slipped out.

“So beautiful.”

“Hehe, thank you,” Qin Yun smiled. With his current photography skills, if he prepared properly and focused, the results would be even better.

Zhang Xingchen, hearing Song Ke’er’s voice from afar, couldn’t resist anymore. She slowly shuffled over, forced a smile at Qin Yun, and leaned in to look at the camera.

Then…

“So atmospheric.”

“This shot is incredible—perfect timing!”

“This could be used as promotional material for Bailingxia.”

When they saw Qin Yun’s first captured photo of Xia Qingqing, their eyes lit up. Though they didn’t know photography, they had basic aesthetic sense—the moment light streamed down from a narrow slit above, blending person and landscape into one, was simply breathtaking.

Both turned to each other almost simultaneously and nodded firmly.

“Hey, handsome, can you take photos of us? We’ll pay you, okay?”

Qin Yun paused, took the camera back from Song Ke’er, and pointed at Zhang Xingchen’s DSLR. “Aren’t you carrying a camera?”

Zhang Xingchen said nothing, opened her photo gallery, and showed each one to Qin Yun.

After seeing their photos, Qin Yun immediately understood why—these were worse than tourist snapshots, a total waste of their outfits.

“No problem. As for payment, forget it.”

Qin Yun agreed generously.

…

Many people think photography is just pressing a shutter button—this isn’t wrong.

But when to press that shutter is highly nuanced. Leaving aside professional gear, the skills a photographer must possess are beyond ordinary people’s imagination.

First, operating the equipment is essential—nine out of ten ordinary people can’t even handle basic camera functions, let alone anything else.

Second is mastering light and composition. Light is the most critical element—how to control and arrange natural light, how to set up artificial light, how to use light to create depth, how to break compositional rules, and so on.

Also, mastering shooting in various scenarios: capturing people—posing, expressions, eye direction; shooting landscapes—finding the best natural lighting, and more.

Only after understanding and mastering all these can one truly become a qualified photographer.

Qin Yun, however, surpassed even this foundation—so photographing two girls in COS attire was extremely simple for him.

Under his direction, the two followed without hesitation, perfectly synchronized. He followed his inspiration, freezing fleeting moments in time.

They changed backgrounds five times, used up one battery, and took over 150 photos. Seeing the girls’ tired faces, Qin Yun finally suggested stopping.

Otherwise, with his current shooting momentum, he wouldn’t have ended so soon.

The three found a spot and gathered to view the raw images on the camera. Though unedited, each photo, under Qin Yun’s control, already carried strong atmosphere.

He’d seen online COS photos—some had incredible post-processing, with facial details almost erased. But that was normal; no one wanted to see their own enlarged pores in photos.

“Wow… amazing… sob sob… Ke’er, you’re so beautiful.”

Song Ke’er stared at her photo—her ancient robe fluttering in the wind, the backdrop a sheer cliff of “One Sky,” light falling on her face, even the shadows of her eyelashes clearly visible.

“This shot is so cool—how could I look this good?”

“I never knew I was this pretty. Good heavens, the boys in my class must be so happy every day.”

“So full of character—I don’t even want to edit it. This raw, unprocessed feel is addictive.”

Listening to the two girls unabashedly praising themselves, Qin Yun felt a headache. Are kids today really like this?

“Big Brother Qin, you’re amazing. We’ve taken so many photos, but yours are the most beautiful.” Song Ke’er looked up at Qin Yun with pure admiration.

Zhang Xingchen even clutched her chest dramatically: “After Big Brother Qin, how can I ever accept ordinary photographers again… sigh…”

“Hey, hey, you two, enough,” Qin Yun couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re way too familiar.”

Over the past hour and a half, they’d naturally exchanged names and basic info. Both were high school sophomores from Baoding, using the last few days of summer vacation to take photos in the scenic area.

Not professional COSers, just enthusiasts, though they occasionally took on online gigs.

Thinking back to his own high school days, Qin Yun realized today’s youth were far more mature.

“Search the camera’s Wi-Fi—I’ll send you the photos.”

Modern cameras can directly transfer photos to phones—very convenient.

Without hesitation, they connected to the camera and began downloading.

“Big Brother Qin, are you here on vacation?” Song Ke’er propped her chin, looking sweet.

Qin Yun shook his head. “No, I’m traveling.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Zhang Xingchen looked up, puzzled.

“Not at all,” Qin Yun smiled. “Tourism means following a checklist—you care whether you complete your planned goals. Like Bailingxia—if you’re touring, you rush through the whole area, snap photos, and leave. Traveling isn’t like that.”

“Traveling has no agenda—it values authentic, present experiences. If I’d been on a mission, do you think I’d have spent so long taking photos for you?”

The two widened their eyes in awe. Most people would’ve been flattered by two beautiful girls staring at them like that.

But Qin Yun wasn’t most people—he’d always been in Class Five in high school.

“Big Brother Qin, where are you from? Will we never see you again? I really hope you’re from Baoding—then we could always ask you to take our photos.”

Song Ke’er was utterly impressed by Qin Yun’s photography, but felt disappointed realizing he was just a tourist from Hebei.

“I’m from Zhejiang. If you ever travel there, come visit Zhoushan.”

At parting, they added Qin Yun’s WeChat—whether they’d ever contact him again didn’t matter; they added him anyway.

After saying goodbye, Qin Yun continued deeper into the scenic area—Bailingxia was huge, and he’d only covered one-fifth so far.

…

The next day, Qin Yun stood before the Yugu Cave Spring, watching crystal-clear water flow endlessly, fish surging out of the spring—beautiful to behold.

But a tour guide told him what they were seeing now wasn’t even the main attraction—the real spectacle occurred only during Guyu each year, lasting about ten days, and if you missed it, you’d have to wait another year.

Even so, Qin Yun found it astonishing.

He also hadn’t forgotten the cave interior’s karst formations—stalactites like stone flowers, cloud basins, tubular stalactites, and stalagmites—he’d never seen such sights before and was utterly captivated.

He didn’t forget the system’s check-in task. Standing before the Yugu Cave Spring, he pulled out his phone and took a selfie. The instant he finished, the final system requirement lit up, and the long-awaited system notification arrived.

【Congratulations, host! Check-in successful. Random reward granted: Rock Climbing Skill +1】

【Rock Climbing Skill LV1: Move with precision, turn stone into path, tread every cliff and ravine】

Instantly, textures, stress patterns, and mechanics of all rock types, climbing techniques, and force application flooded his mind. Within a minute, he understood rock climbing completely—for him now, no matter the cliff, he could climb it as easily as walking on flat ground.

But more importantly, his body changed. Previous skill acquisitions brought subtle physical changes—this time was different.

His limbs and back began to heat up, muscles trembling rapidly—a strange force reshaped his body, aligning his physical capabilities with his newfound knowledge.

The skill’s mental reception took only a minute, but his body’s transformation lasted nearly fifteen minutes to complete.

The transformation completed, Qin Yun stared in stunned silence again.

He spread his fingers; the resilience of his knuckles far exceeded what it had been before. He felt this hand could now snap his own old bones. Raising his right arm, he clearly sensed the tightening of his biceps and triceps—not the bulky, blocky form of a gym physique, but a streamlined, compact tone, every inch of muscle precisely calibrated, ready to exert or release power with perfect control.

Most dramatic of all was his waist and abdomen. When he straightened his back, he immediately felt a powerful core tension. The flab accumulated from years of sitting had vanished, replaced by dense, refined muscle—not the angular abs of a bodybuilder, but deep, stabilizing core musculature.

His balance had become extraordinary. He felt that even standing on the sharp tip of a protruding rock, he could automatically adjust his center of gravity, as steady as Mount Tai.

As he sensed these bodily changes, Qin Yun marveled at the system’s astonishing power.

“So… I’m this awesome!”