Chapter 68: Former Classmates

In two days, Qin Yun set up his studio, renting a shared office space since he had no employees needing to show up—just having a location was enough.

Then he met Fang Nan in person.

From the start, Fang Nan’s enthusiasm nearly drowned him; had she not remembered she was a woman, she might have launched herself at him. She didn’t need Qin Yun to speak—she chattered nonstop on her own, and all he had to do was answer properly.

Over lunch, the entire formal discussion was settled in just ten minutes.

Fang Nan patted her full chest and declared with great confidence: "Brother Yun, don't worry—I'll handle the main editing; I won't let you down. If you're not satisfied, I won't take a single cent."

Qin Yun hurried to say: “No need, no need. We’re mutually beneficial—you’ve got to keep your company alive, right, Boss Zhang?”

Boss Zhang, Zhang Quan, Fang Nan’s partner and the company’s owner, sat beside her and wished he’d never shown up today.

He hadn’t even gotten a word in, and Fang Nan had almost promised free work. Luckily, the other side was reasonable and didn’t let them off the hook—they signed a contract at market rates. Otherwise, the words “sucker” on his forehead would’ve been impossible to peel off.

Zhang Quan smiled: “Auntie Qin is right. But as Xiao Nan said, since we’re partnering, we’ll give it our all—the results will satisfy everyone.”

After finalizing the partnership with Fang Nan’s company, another critical matter was taxes—this was precisely why he wanted to establish a studio.

As a sole proprietorship, if his annual income reached five million, he’d pay over thirty percent in taxes—losing one and a half million. But if registered as a sole proprietor and applying for assessed taxation, his total tax burden dropped to under one hundred thousand.

It was a world of difference.

On the way back, Su Huan said: “Do you remember Lu Lu?”

“Shi Lulu?” Qin Yun pictured a girl’s face. “I remember she went abroad and lost contact after that. How come you’re still in touch?”

Su Huan nodded: “Yeah, she came back this year, but she reached out to me before National Day.”

“Oh.”

All relationships work this way—if not actively maintained, even the closest bonds gradually cool, then drift apart, becoming strangers preserved only in memory.

In his contacts, her name’s only value was occupying a bit of hard drive space.

Shi Lulu was a junior two grades below him and Su Huan, and back then she’d been close to them both. But in her third year, she chose to study abroad—and contact vanished. The relationship naturally ended. At the time, he and Su Huan had been upset; unlike in the past, such a cutoff could only come from her side.

Still, though he wasn’t interested, he asked: “What did she want from you?”

“She asked to borrow money.”

“Borrow money?” Qin Yun blinked. “I thought Shi Lulu’s family was rich—over a hundred thousand dollars a year for tuition and living expenses in the U.S.”

“Her dad blew his fortune on crypto, went bankrupt, then jumped off a building. Left with a mountain of debt. Her mom brought her back home.”

“...”

Qin Yun didn’t know what to say.

“How much did she ask for? Did you lend it?”

“I lent her fifty thousand.” Su Huan sighed. “She’s not working now—says she’s been doing market research and plans to become a celebrity photo-taker in Hengdian.”

“What’s a celebrity photo-taker?”

“It means taking photos or videos of celebrities on behalf of others.”

With Su Huan’s explanation, Qin Yun immediately understood. It was simply a fan-based economic model: capturing celebrities’ schedules, events, or daily life, then selling the content to fans or fan clubs.

“Hard to make it, isn’t it? Hengdian’s full of professional photo-takers. A newcomer trying to carve out a share won’t have it easy.”

“I don’t know.” Su Huan shook her head. “But she says she’s already affiliated with several studios. Maybe she’ll make it.”

“That fifty thousand’s probably gone.” Qin Yun sighed. “Six years without contact—and you still lent her money? I’m impressed.”

“She sounded so pitiful, I couldn’t say no.” Su Huan looked helpless. She’d lent it on impulse; now she was regretting it, which was why she brought it up.

Though fifty thousand wasn’t much—less than her monthly salary—it still stung if it vanished.

“But why tell me about her? You know I’m not interested.” Qin Yun frowned.

“Because Shi Lulu’s return involves someone else.”

“Who?”

“Lin Yao.”

“Lin Yao?” Qin Yun’s voice rose. “That idiot wouldn’t—”

Su Huan nodded: “Lin Yao’s in Hengdian too. He’s broke, otherwise you know what’d happen.”

Qin Yun rubbed his forehead, speechless: “This idiot’s beyond saving. So—did Shi Lulu reject him or accept him?”

Lin Yao was another junior, in the same class as Hu Bingbing. Compared to Hu Bingbing, Lin Yao had received more of Qin Yun’s care. But the guy was clueless—he’d fallen hard for Shi Lulu, scrimping and saving in college to buy her gifts.

Shi Lulu never accepted him—she just kept him dangling.

Pure lickspittle.

He was the only real-life lickspittle Qin Yun had ever seen—and in the end, he got nothing.

When Shi Lulu left for abroad and cut off all contact, the lickspittle Lin Yao was left stunned.

After graduation, Lin Yao returned to his hometown in Hunan. They occasionally kept in touch—he’d ask Qin Yun professional questions, and they’d done some business together. Their relationship remained decent.

“She didn’t reject him. Didn’t accept him either.”

“Hopeless!” Qin Yun declared. “It’s not her fault—he’s just an idiot.”

As he spoke, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, showed the screen to Su Huan. She saw the name flashing: Lin Yao.

It was Cao Cao himself!

“Hey, Brother Yun, it’s Aoyao.”

“I know,” Qin Yun feigned ignorance, smiling. “How’s work? Got a raise? You said your boss promised you one in August.”

Lin Yao said: “Brother Yun, I quit. I’m in Jinhua now.”

“Quit? Why quit? Didn’t your boss give you the raise? Or just promise you pie in the sky?” Qin Yun feigned shock—Su Huan rolled her eyes.

“No, my boss treats me well. I quit for other reasons.”

“So you quit—and came to Zhejiang? Can’t you grow in Hunan?”

Lin Yao hesitated: “I… I came to Jinhua for tourism. Saw Hengdian Film City and thought opening a restaurant here would be good. You know my family’s in food service.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” Qin Yun’s tone turned sharp. “Tell the truth.”

“...”

Lin Yao fell silent. Qin Yun didn’t press.

“Brother… Brother Yun, Shi Lulu came back. Her family went bankrupt, so… so…”

“So you want to help her?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh? How devoted. Our great Mr. Lin—how many assets do you have now? Think you’ve finally stood up and she’ll finally take you?”

Qin Yun’s sarcasm made Lin Yao’s face flush red and pale. He knew he’d be mocked—but being mocked still hurt.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Qin Yun’s anger surged, frustrated. “Don’t you know what Shi Lulu’s like? You think now she’s broke and down, she’ll finally accept you? Snap out of it!”

“She didn’t accept you in college—she won’t now. You’re not a kid anymore. Are you really going to waste more time on the same person?”

“Brother Yun!” Lin Yao’s voice was firm. “I’m certain I love her. I’m willing to give her everything. I’ll give myself three more years. If she still rejects me after that, I’ll go home.”

“Fucking hell!”

Qin Yun snapped: “Why’d you even call me?”

“Brother Yun, can you lend me one hundred thousand? I’ve saved a bit—I want to rent a shop.”

“No.” Qin Yun said, then added: “But I’ll invest in you. I’m coming to Jinhua in a few days. Wait for me.”

He hung up and looked at Su Huan: “Isn’t he an idiot?”

Su Huan covered her mouth and laughed: “Aoyao’s an idiot, but you don’t need to get so angry.”

“I can’t stand seeing him waste himself like this,” Qin Yun sighed, then suddenly realized he wasn’t much better off—and was even worse. He grew gloomy. “I’m worried he’s being fooled by Shi Lulu’s surface.”

“If Shi Lulu had truly studied hard abroad, she wouldn’t come back to do this kind of work. She probably wasted her time there. America’s chaotic—silver parties every other day. Who knows what she’s really like?”

Su Huan hadn’t thought that far—but now Qin Yun’s words made sense.

“So what are you going to do? Aoyao won’t listen to anyone once he’s set his mind.”

“I’ll go see for myself. I hope this kid snaps out of it—doesn’t stay this stupid.”

“When are you leaving?”

Qin Yun looked across the street at the farmers’ market: “Come on. Tonight, Chef Qin will cook you a full Manchu-Han banquet. Tomorrow morning, I’m heading to Jinhua.”

Having tasted Qin Yun’s cooking several times already, she’d fallen in love with his dishes.

“I want Shandong cuisine.”

“Alright. Today we’ll do Sliced Fish in Vinegar Sauce, Garlic-Flavored Pork, Shrimp Skin Fried Tofu, Stir-Fried Pork Kidneys, and Milk Soup with Cattail Shoots. How’s that?”

With every dish Qin Yun named, Su Huan’s mouth watered. She grabbed his arm and jumped excitedly.

“Yes, yes! Let’s go buy ingredients!”

Qin Yun stiffened, staring at her hand gripping his arm—his body felt strange. He didn’t see that Su Huan’s face was flushed crimson; she’d acted on impulse and was just as startled as he was.

But since she’d already grabbed him, she gritted her teeth and pretended it was nothing.

At the market, Qin Yun was an expert at picking produce—his eyes instantly told fresh from stale, delicious from mediocre. In no time, both held bags full of ingredients.

With his cooking skill, Qin Yun returned home and soon the whole apartment filled with aroma. Su Huan ate until she patted her belly.

She tried to get up to clean up, but Qin Yun pushed her back down.

“Rest on the sofa. I’ll handle it.”

Watching Qin Yun busy in the kitchen, Su Huan suddenly thought—if days like this lasted longer, they wouldn’t be so bad.