Chapter 1116

Under the gaze of the wavy-haired woman, Wang Yan pulled up a chair and sat directly next to her.

He fiddled with his camera to review the photos and handed it to her: "Take a look, they're actually quite good."

The wavy-haired woman placed her phone on the table, held her cigarette, and turned the camera dial. Seeming to realize she couldn't see clearly or distinguish the colors, she raised her hand to remove her sunglasses to look more carefully.

After a while, she looked at them and smiled at Wang Yan: "They really are quite good. How much?"

"There's a saying in the photography circle. Do you know what the three elements of portraiture are?"

"I don't know. What are they?"

"The model must be beautiful, beautiful, and beautiful."

"Are you complimenting me?"

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow: "Otherwise, why would I shamelessly try to get close to you here? My lust is written all over my face."

"Oh, by the sound of it, you want to sleep with me?"

"People in big cities are so direct. It's just that the words don't sound very nice; it makes me sound like a hooligan."

"Then how do you think it should be said?"

"In-depth communication."

The wavy-haired woman rolled her eyes, speechless. Was that not direct enough?

She fiddled with the camera and continued to flip through the photos: "You're quite confident. Well, this camera must cost hundreds of thousands, right? Rich people are all confident. What do you do?"

"Finance." Wang Yan smiled, pulled a Huazi cigarette from his pocket, lit one, found a waiter to bring him a glass of plain water, and said, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Wang Yan, thirty years old. My family had property demolished early on, and later... so now I can be considered to have some freedom. I occasionally go out to take pictures, and I also travel around a lot to see things."

"Working in finance... the reputation isn't very good, is it?" The wavy-haired woman laughed, "You don't need to tell me in such detail."

"I'm just a straightforward person, so I don't have to ask you again; I might as well say more. I'm not a criminal, I haven't done anything dirty, there's nothing I can't say. As for you saying the reputation of those in finance is bad, that's still a bit of a misunderstanding; after all, my reputation is still very good. It's mainly a problem with the people. Whenever you talk about any circle, there's no such thing as a clean one."

"That's true. My name is Zhang Qian. I suppose I work in the arts. I'm the same age as you, also thirty."

The wavy-haired woman was still that same wavy-haired woman; she was a genuine acquaintance. Wang Yan had indeed met her unintentionally; it was truly a coincidence.

"I really couldn't tell. You look like you're twenty-five or twenty-six."

"That line is really cheesy."

"Just tell me whether you're willing to listen or not."

Zhang Qian smiled, handed the camera in her hand back to Wang Yan, took the last puff of her cigarette, pressed it into the ashtray to extinguish it, and said: "The photos are all very good. Leave your WeChat, and you can send them to me later. Make sure you edit them well for me."

"You're naturally beautiful; the raw files are already masterpieces. If I adjust the lighting and color later, they'll be even greater." Wang Yan took out his phone to scan the code and added her as a friend with a note.

"Didn't you see my thick makeup? I'm thirty, after all."

"Every stage has its own beauty. There's no need to force youth and beauty. Wrinkles, freckles, and dull skin are not big deals, and they don't affect beauty; those are actually your charm. Youth fades easily, and people will eventually head toward death, so there's no need to resist time. Accept it, welcome it, and boldly show your charm.

Cosmetics are chemical products, after all. Drawing and dressing up painstakingly every day is still harmful to the skin. So, on one hand, you protect your skin, and on the other, you apply makeup; on one hand, you repair, and on the other, you damage. Constantly fighting like this will only make your face worse and worse. You said yourself that your makeup is thick; it could appropriately be thinner. As the saying goes, 'Light or heavy makeup is always appropriate'."

"You're really funny when you talk." Zhang Qian covered her mouth and giggled, "But there's some truth to it. However, having said that, if I were really a 'yellow-faced woman', would you have come to chat me up?"

"You have some misunderstandings about 'yellow-faced women'. If you were a yellow-faced woman, you'd be a beautiful one. You know, some people have a preference for married women; that's probably even more exciting. Of course, I'm a decent person. Although my surname is Wang, I don't live next door, and I certainly won't do anything immoral."

"Is that so?" Zhang Qian looked suspicious, "Then how are you so sure I don't have a boyfriend or am not married?"

"Of course I wasn't sure at first, but since you didn't refuse me when I came over to talk and even pointed out the topic directly, I figured you weren't married. As for having a boyfriend, the social atmosphere these days isn't great. It's hard to say whether it's progress or regression, and whether you have one or not doesn't seem to matter much. After all, the law doesn't protect boyfriends and girlfriends.

On the other hand, you're covered in luxury brands, and you're only thirty. In the arts field, you should be in a middle-to-high-level leadership position. When women look for partners, they mostly look for those with a higher status and better conditions. As far as the current situation is concerned, it's still men who control more resources. You're thirty and a senior leader; this is quite awkward. The ones who like you, you don't like; the ones you like, don't like you.

So I think you're also quite lonely. You want to find a partner but can't, so you can only focus more on your career, which makes it even harder to find a partner. After all, unless absolutely necessary, you wouldn't like being with someone forty or fifty..."

"You hit the nail on the head." Zhang Qian couldn't help but sigh, "It's all bitter tears when I talk about it. After working for so many years, I've only gained age; I haven't gained anything else. Having to take abuse from subordinates every day is really..."

She was, of course, telling the truth. She was the editor-in-chief of an entertainment company, and her actual monthly income depended on the situation, ranging from ten thousand to thirty or forty thousand. And with her covered in luxury brands, if no one bought them for her, she couldn't afford it herself. If she didn't have a house and was renting an apartment alone, that was another significant expense, so she definitely didn't have much savings.

As for taking abuse from subordinates, Wang Yan believed that He Minhong was definitely among them...

But truthfully speaking, he had also saved Zhang Qian's life. After all, in the original story, due to a series of events triggered by the previous Song Li asking for manuscript fees, Zhang Qian ended up leaving. Now that this matter had passed peacefully, she was able to continue sitting in the editor-in-chief's chair.

He asked: "Why are you sitting here by yourself?"

"Work, of course. I had an appointment to meet someone to discuss things, but I was stood up. It wasted my whole morning, and today is Saturday! I could have slept in, but I had to put on makeup and come out, and in the end, I didn't even see the person." Zhang Qian's words were full of resentment.

"It seems I appeared just in time to save a heart that was about to break. The makeup couldn't be put on for nothing, and the clothes couldn't be matched for nothing. It's noon, let's go eat." Wang Yan put out his cigarette, then hung the camera around his neck and stood up.

"Your invitation is really stiff."

"Just tell me whether you're going or not."

Zhang Qian smiled and stood up, picked up her bag, and smoothed her long dress: "Let's go. Free food—it would be a waste not to eat it."

The two of them chatted quite well, and they got along very naturally. Moreover, Wang Yan exuded strength from the inside out and had a very strong personal charm, so she naturally didn't feel any aversion.

"Haven't you heard that free things are the most expensive?" Wang Yan tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her, his ambiguous intent fully displayed.

"Get lost." Zhang Qian swung her bag to hit him, then stepped in her high heels, wiggling her hips, and walked away with a *clack-clack-clack*, looking extremely seductive.

After walking a few steps like this, she realized something, turned back to look at Wang Yan, who was still standing there smiling, and asked: "Where are we going to eat? You're not going to fob me off with a street stall, are you?"

"I was originally going to take you to eat spicy hot pot, but since you put it that way, I'm a little embarrassed."

Zhang Qian glared at Wang Yan. She was also a heavy internet surfer, so she naturally knew the story about spicy hot pot.

Wang Yan stood by the street smiling and waved. A taxi slowly pulled over, and he opened the rear door and gestured to Zhang Qian.

Zhang Qian didn't refuse and got into the car with a *clack-clack-clack*. Wang Yan sat in and said: "Driver, go to the Peninsula Hotel."

The Peninsula Hotel had restaurants, Michelin ratings, and high-level outdoor tables where one could enjoy the scenery of the Huangpujiang.

This scene was still very familiar. He remembered another wavy-haired woman who liked to lean against the window, watching the neon night view. The difference was that back then, he was looking at the Bund from Lujiazui, while now he was looking at Lujiazui from the Bund. The wavy-haired woman wasn't that same wavy-haired woman, but she was still that same wavy-haired woman.

The wavy-haired woman liked taking pictures, and Wang Yan's level was quite good, so he started shooting as soon as he entered the hotel. If he hadn't booked the presidential suite, people might have thought he was a photographer hired by a fake socialite.

He took pictures in the restaurant too—pictures of the food, the scenery, and even more pictures of her. Afterward, Zhang Qian said that she had always wanted to take private photos but never had the chance, couldn't let go, and couldn't trust anyone. Today's timing was just right, and she could fulfill this little wish of hers. She hoped Photographer Wang would help her out.

Although he had to admit that he was far inferior to Chen Laoshi in this regard, faced with the small request of such a beautiful woman, he didn't refuse. He just collected a more serious fee after the serious shooting ended...

The wavy-haired woman was still that same wavy-haired woman. She liked to stand by the window, watching the scenery of the Huangpujiang, watching the neon lights at night, and watching this super metropolis. She released her stress and relieved her loneliness, solitude, and sorrow. When the flower in her heart bloomed, she discovered that she liked this city so much; this city was so fascinating...

Afterward, the lamps were just beginning to light up. The room was filled with a lingering atmosphere, and after washing up, things finally quieted down.

Zhang Qian lay weakly on the bed, shaking a glass of red wine with one hand and holding a delicate cigarette in the other. Wang Yan leaned against the headboard beside her, also with a cigarette in his mouth, fiddling with his computer to do post-processing on the photos taken today.

Wang Yan guaranteed that they were all serious photos. At most, they were hazy, but there was absolutely nothing inappropriate; he really didn't have a taste for that...

"I really didn't expect you to be so energetic."

"Was it good?"

"It was good, but it also hurt," Zhang Qian said with a slightly hoarse voice. The blush on her face still hadn't faded. She gathered her hair and blew a puff of smoke into Wang Yan's face, looking very charming.

After she finished speaking, she let out a long breath and laughed, "Before today, I absolutely wouldn't have imagined that there would be such a crazy day."

"How crazy was it before?"

"You're annoying." Zhang Qian reached out to hit him.

She clearly didn't want to talk about it.

The reason Wang Yan was able to win her over, besides his genuine charm, his pleasant way of speaking, his natural demeanor, his complete lack of uncertainty or lecherous gaze, and his overflowing confidence, was the most important action: he booked this presidential suite—called the Peninsula Zhang Taofang—the moment they arrived at the Peninsula Hotel.

It cost 130,000 a night and was equipped with a 24-hour butler service and a Rolls-Royce chauffeur. The room included a study, a gym, and everything else one could need. The space was quite open, and the scenery was naturally excellent.

The computer he was fiddling with now was a top-spec Mac that the butler had run errands to buy on the spot, and it was only delivered after he had given instructions to download the photo-editing software. In addition, there was a set of Chanel clothes and shoes, as well as underwear, and a bag...

Booking the suite earlier proved his financial strength, and buying things afterward showed his generosity; the next cooperation would definitely be even more pleasant. Of course, he was generous to begin with, not to mention that Zhang Qian was an old acquaintance. It didn't matter if he spent more or less; everyone being happy was the real happiness.

Not hearing Wang Yan's answer, Zhang Qian sighed: "Your photography is really good. I feel like it's no worse than those famous masters."

"How could I compare? The masters are all doing stream-of-consciousness; that's proper art. Those who shoot humanistic documentaries are even more ruthless—they all run to the battlefield; that's a life-risking job. Mine is purely for self-entertainment. I shoot street scenes, humanities, portraits, everything. There's no theme; what's highlighted is just recording."

"Anyway, I just think you shoot well. Those artistic photographers aren't as good as you at shooting this."

"You're too kind, you're too kind. In the end, I still can't compare to Chen Laoshi."

"You're not being serious again." Zhang Qian's face flushed, and she smiled beautifully.

She then said, "Hey, since you shoot so well, why haven't you opened a public account or a Weibo or something? I'll give you a follow."

"I have a Weibo, but I don't post often. It's called 'Junior Camera Operator'."

"You're quite humble."

"You work in the arts; don't you know this is the unity of opposites? What's highlighted is the contrast. If people see it and smile knowingly, then I've done my job."

Zhang Qian fiddled with her phone, followed Wang Yan, and flipped through the photos he had posted in the past and the netizens' comments.

"It really does make people smile knowingly. Your comment section is hilarious. They all say you're a junior operator, so what are they? Then there are dozens of replies below saying they're camera sellers."

"It's also a joke. It says that the first income a photography enthusiast earns from photography is from selling their camera."

"That's funny."

Wang Yan smiled and responded to Zhang Qian's words while his hands never stopped, quickly doing post-processing on the photos.

"Alright, mission accomplished. Posting this on Moments will definitely be explosive."

"Send them to me, I'll pick a few. You should have noticed by now that I'm quite vain."

"There's nothing wrong with that, as long as you're willing to pay the price."

"Then you've got me wrong; I'm really not..."

"I understand. It's just that I have money, you have beauty, and we're communicating very happily. I'd feel uncomfortable if I didn't spend a little. Haven't you felt the 'big spender' aura on me?"

Zhang Qian shook her head and laughed: "I felt it. So, happy cooperation?"

"Of course, happy cooperation."

This happiness lasted until the afternoon of the next day. Zhang Qian, who considered herself vain, weakly got into the Rolls-Royce chauffeur and went back...