“Since we’re already getting married, are you still going to keep your guard up against me?” Wei Zhi asked.
“Keep my guard up?” Ji Qikun smiled. “Xiao Zhi, when have I ever kept my guard up against you?”
“Those locked rooms—don’t you plan on opening them to me?” Wei Zhi said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of grievance.
“Oh, those rooms. Of course. I’ll give you all the passwords—except for the study,” Ji Qikun said with a smile. “That’s out of professional responsibility; after all, I bring a lot of my work home to handle.”
Without waiting for Wei Zhi to respond, he stood up from the sofa and extended his right hand toward her.
“Come. Weren’t you curious about what’s inside those rooms?”
Wei Zhi took his hand and stood up.
Ji Qikun led her along, starting from the furthest locked room. He entered the password right in front of her, then pulled her into the pitch-black space.
A gust of cold air, carrying a faint scent of chemical reagents, rushed at her, as if the space possessed its own microclimate, completely isolated from the outside world. Ji Qikun flipped a switch on the wall. The light came on, but it wasn't an incandescent bulb.
The interior of the room was painted a deep charcoal grey, designed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The sole light source came from a red lamp suspended from the center of the ceiling, emitting a faint, steady glow that bathed everything in a hazy crimson hue.
Various pieces of equipment were arranged around the room: developing trays, fixing baths, an enlarger, and drying racks. In the corners, boxes of unused photographic paper and canisters of chemicals were stacked silently. Their surfaces occasionally caught the red light, creating an inexplicable sense of oppression. The air was thick with a faint acidity—the characteristic scent of fixer—mixed with a touch of moisture that made breathing feel heavy.
A workbench occupied one side of the room, neatly lined with tools and accessories. Several pairs of fine tweezers, measuring cups, and cutting tools of various sizes were placed in an orderly fashion. Beside them sat several small basins containing different liquids; the surfaces were calm and waveless, reflecting no shadows. There were no superfluous decorations or colors in the entire space, only a vast expanse of greyish-darkness and silence, as if time had ceased to flow here, leaving only mechanical operations and waiting.
“This is...” Wei Zhi stepped inside, unable to hide her surprise.
“This is my private darkroom,” Ji Qikun said, leaning against the doorframe with a smile. “In this digital age, many people might find it hard to understand why I still insist on using traditional darkroom techniques. To me, photography isn't just the art of capturing a moment; it’s a process of artistic creation.”
“Can I see your work?” Wei Zhi asked curiously.
“Sure.”
Ji Qikun agreed easily. He took a photo album from the top of a cabinet by the wall and handed it to Wei Zhi.
In the dim light, Wei Zhi flipped through the album. It was filled entirely with photographs of artworks from the gallery.
“In the darkroom, I can personally control the development process of every single photograph. From the exposure time to the ratio of chemical reagents, every detail directly influences the final result. This delicate grasp of light, shadow, and texture is something digital processing can never fully replace.”
“I didn't realize there was so much to it. I don't know the first thing about photography...”
“If you're interested, I can teach you,” Ji Qikun said tenderly. “How about next weekend?”
After the tour of the darkroom, Ji Qikun closed the door and led Wei Zhi to the room she cared about most—the one adjacent to the master bedroom.
This time, Ji Qikun intentionally stood in front of her, obscuring the entry of the password.
When the door opened, the interior was indeed configured as a study: wide floor-to-ceiling windows, a large built-in bookcase, a desk and computer positioned in the center, and a safe in the corner.
Initially, Wei Zhi wondered why the computer was facing a dull wall instead of the azure sky outside the window. It was only after she entered the room that she realized a massive oil painting hung on the wall directly facing the computer.
The painting depicted a long-haired angel dressed in a light, flowing robe. Her posture appeared fragile and uneasy; one hand rested gently against her chest while the other hung powerlessly at her side, her fingertips slightly curled. The color of her robe transitioned from pure white to a murky grey. The wings behind her were translucent, their edges slightly tattered, with a faint light shimmering through the feathers amidst a lingering gloom.
Beneath her feet was a vast sea of flowers, but many of them had already withered and died. Countless petals were scattered across the ground—some still retained a hint of vibrant color, while others were completely dried out, showing a sickly brown. A few flowers that had not yet fully perished swayed slightly, as if one could almost smell their final fragrance.
The entire painting was dominated by deep blue-greys and pale violets, evoking a sense of darkness and melancholy. The background was a blurred sky with thick, slightly distorted clouds, as if the entire world were immersed in an eternal twilight.
Wei Zhi noticed a small golden signature in the bottom right corner of the canvas.
“Mei.”
“This is my favorite painting,” Ji Qikun said, seeing her lost in thought. “Though the artist isn't famous, I care more about the feeling the work itself gives me.”
“...Does this painting have a name?”
“Angel’s Twilight.”
Wei Zhi stared blankly at the painting. The oppression and sadness within it overwhelmed her; she found it difficult to articulate her internal feelings at that moment.
“You understand now, don't you? I have nothing to hide from you. Locking these two rooms is simply for the convenience of my work,” Ji Qikun said. “If you need to work at home, there’s a laptop in the living room.”
Since Ji Qikun had put it that way, Wei Zhi had no reason to protest. She took one last look at the painting on the wall and followed him out of the study.
***
“Wei Zhi, someone’s looking for you again.” Xiao Cai placed the phone on top of the cubicle partition, looking at her thoughtfully. “You’ve been getting a lot of visitors lately.”
Wei Zhi gave a perfunctory smile and picked up the phone.
“Hello? This is Wei Zhi.”
The deep voice of the security guard, Tan Mengyan, came from the other end.
“Your brother is here to see you. He’s at the gallery entrance.”
Wei Zhi’s heart skipped a beat. She guessed that Wei Lai coming to find her could only mean trouble.
“...I’ll be right there.”
A moment later, Wei Zhi hurried out of the gallery’s main entrance. Tan Mengyan’s tall figure stood outside the security booth. In front of him was Wei Lai, who had been blocked from entering and was shouting indignantly.
“Do you have any idea who I am? You’re blocking me? You tired of living? I’ll have my brother-in-law fire you today!”
Wei Lai made a move to charge inside again, only to be blocked once more by Tan Mengyan in his security uniform.
Wei Lai glared at Tan Mengyan in disbelief, but the latter remained entirely unmoved by the threat, staring back with an expressionless face.
“Wei Lai!” Wei Zhi walked quickly to her brother’s side. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” Wei Lai said matter-of-factly.
“Thank you. I’ll take my brother aside to talk,” Wei Zhi said to Tan Mengyan.
Tan Mengyan glanced at Wei Lai and walked away without a word.
“Come here!” Wei Zhi said, her face darkening.
She walked toward the small alley beside the gallery. Wei Lai followed her with the air of a dead pig that didn't fear boiling water, his hands shoved in his pockets and a look of fearlessness on his face.
In the filthy alley filled with trash and puddles, Wei Zhi turned to him. “Speak. What do you want?”
“A brother can’t come see his sister?”
Wei Zhi furrowed her brows in disgust.
“Say what you have to say, or I’m leaving.”
“Give me six thousand yuan. I want to buy a new phone.”
“Why should I buy you one? Didn't Ji Qikun just buy you one not long ago?”
“You have the nerve to say that!” Wei Lai’s face twisted with anger, his bulging eyes—inherited from Wei Shan—glaring with excitement. “I’m telling you, I don't care what you said to Brother-in-law to make him stop answering our calls, but as long as you can’t change your blood, you’ll never get rid of us! Give me six thousand, or I’ll tell him about your million-yuan debt—you definitely haven't told him about that, have you? Isn't that called pre-marital fraud?”
Wei Lai’s face was filled with naked malice.
“If things go bad for me, do you think things will stay good for you?” Wei Zhi suppressed her rage, squeezing the words through gritted teeth.
“That’s hard to say. After all, you’ve stopped answering our calls. Who knows if you’ll even acknowledge us later? But blood ties aren't something that cease to exist just because you refuse to acknowledge them,” Wei Lai said with a smirk. “You were born into our family. Either we go to heaven together, or—”
His expression shifted, turning vicious. “We go to hell together. Don't think about leaving us behind to live a good life on your own. It’s impossible!”
“I’m already a million in debt. Where would I get money for you?” Wei Zhi said. “I don't have that kind of money.”
“I don't care about any of that. Dad sent me this time. He promised that if I got the money, he’d buy me the new phone. If you don't give it to me, Dad will come in person next time—and he doesn't have a temper as good as mine. When that happens, do you think you’ll still be able to keep this job?” Wei Lai laughed threateningly, pointedly glancing at the two-story gallery.
Wei Zhi stared into his eyes. After a long silence, she suddenly laughed.
“If none of you are afraid of losing face, why should I be?”
She turned to walk back toward the gallery.
Wei Zhi was gambling. She was gambling on whether Wei Lai and Wei Shan had the resolve to go through with a mutual destruction. Losing a cash cow like Ji Qikun meant losing all hope for a better life—and she wasn't the only one who would suffer.
Her heart was racing because she didn't know if she had bet correctly.
“If you don't give me the money today, I’m going home and throwing away Mom’s medicine!”
Wei Zhi stopped dead in her tracks and turned back to him in a towering rage.
“What did you say?”
Seeing her stop, Wei Lai’s face filled with triumph. His previously panicked posture relaxed into one of leisure.
“Do you know what you’re saying? She’s not just my mother; she’s the mother who gave birth to you!”
“So what? Who told her to favor you since we were kids!” Wei Lai shouted angrily. “Every time Dad beat us, she was the first to protect you! Every time we fought, she’d only take your side! You’re the only one in her heart, so what if I throw her medicine away!”
Wei Zhi couldn't stop herself from slapping him.
Wei Lai’s head snapped to the side. If they were at home, he would have struck back immediately. But here, he only contorted his features as a sinister expression flashed across his face. Then he looked up and met Wei Zhi’s gaze with a cold sneer.
“You took out those online loans just to buy Mom’s medicine, didn't you? I looked up the price of that medicine privately; it’s very expensive. Tell me, if I tell Mom the real price of that medicine, will she still take it? That way, I wouldn't even have to throw it away myself.”
Wei Zhi looked at him as if seeing a stranger for the first time. She stared at him without blinking.
Those eyes and brows, so similar to their mother’s, reminded her of things from a long time ago.
In the very beginning, before she and Wei Lai had become sworn enemies, they used to shield each other every time they were beaten. Even in winter, before the beatings began, Wei Shan would specifically make them strip down to their thin inner layers.
Back then, she would huddle in the corner, and Wei Lai, who was even smaller than her, would try his best to protect her with his body.
“Sister... *hic*... does it hurt?” After the beatings, Wei Lai would always be the one to treat her wounds with iodine. While carefully dabbing the broken skin with a cotton swab, he would cry and say to her, “Don't be afraid, Sister. When I grow up, I’ll be able to protect you.”
Back then, though it was painful, she didn't feel cold.
“I’ll give you one minute to think about it.”
Wei Lai stood up straight, smiling at Wei Zhi. In that moment, Wei Zhi felt as if she were seeing Wei Shan, holding a belt and grinning down at them.
More than anger, what she felt in her heart was a boundless, all-consuming coldness.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
---|---|---
暗房 | Darkroom | A room used for developing photographic film.
显影槽 | Developing tray | A container used for the chemical process of making an image visible on film or paper.
定影槽 | Fixing bath/tray | A container for the chemical that makes a photographic image permanent.
放大机 | Enlarger | An apparatus used to project a negative onto photographic paper to produce a larger print.
天使的黄昏 | Angel's Twilight | The title of the painting in Ji Qikun's study.
梅 | Mei | The signature/name of the artist on the painting.
谭孟彦 | Tan Mengyan | The security guard at the gallery.
魏来 | Wei Lai | Wei Zhi's younger brother.
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