When they shot their first set of wedding photos, there wasn’t a single crack in their relationship.
That summer, while vacationing on an island, they passed a few couples taking bridal photos at sunset on the beach.
Zhong Yi grabbed his hand and kept stealing glances at the brides in their gowns.
He was busy replying to emails and hadn’t noticed what she was watching.
By the time he finally put his phone away and tried to speak to her, he realized she was watching a couple getting their photos taken.
“You want to take some too?”
“Who wants to take them with you?” she shot back.
Still, she turned around and flopped into his arms, walking backward as she hugged his waist.
“If not with me, then who?”
“Not talking to you.”
Both of them wore sunglasses, so neither could see what was truly in the other’s eyes.
He stuffed the phone into her hands and scooped her off the ground.
Zhong Yi laughed and teased him, and the idea of wedding photos was left behind—forgotten in that moment.
During that trip, his father called to ask when he’d be returning to China. There was a “suitable young woman” he wanted to introduce.
Translation: a matchmaking proposal.
He told his father: not interested.
His father didn’t care whether or not he was already dating someone. To a man like him, a girl from an ordinary family like Zhong Yi’s wasn’t even a factor.
That night, Zhong Yi had asked him, “Do you think we’ll ever break up?”
He’d answered, “No.”
Because whoever he married—that was his decision to make. He didn’t need anyone’s approval.
To keep her from overthinking the call, he scheduled a wedding shoot the very next day.
Time was tight. The dress and jewelry couldn’t be custom-made, so they chose off-the-rack. She didn’t care, brushing it off with a casual, “I don’t really care about designer gowns or fine jewelry.”
At the time, he thought it was a little white lie—her way of easing his mind.
But now, he realizes she meant every word. She’d simply seen too much of it growing up. Her father gave her mother custom gowns and fine jewelry every year.
They even had half a walk-in closet dedicated to storing the stuff. She’d been around it all her life. No wonder she felt nothing for it.
They shot that first set of wedding photos from dawn to dusk, until the fishermen’s lanterns lit up the coastline.
The second set was taken after they’d already grown distant—barely speaking, silent tension hanging in the air.
It was her idea. A last-ditch effort to fix things, to say without words that she still wanted a future with him.
Both shoots yielded dozens of beautiful photos—enough to host an entire wedding.
Given how they were now, there was no way they could recreate that kind of chemistry again. Better to use the old ones.
Thirty seconds passed. Jiang Jingyuan was still reeling from the shock.
Zhou Shiyi turned to him and explained, “We did two sets, back then.”
Jiang Jingyuan gave a subtle nod. He hadn’t known these details.
But Teacher Yu was still in a fog.
“Back then? Haven’t you only known each other for a month?” Her confused gaze bounced between the two.
“They dated before,” Jiang Jingyuan offered.
Understanding dawned on Teacher Yu.
“So that’s what you were doing all those years you claimed to be too busy to visit me—dating!” She finally understood why Zhou Shiyi had been so interested in the Fun series at the art exhibit.
Zhong Yi didn’t rush to explain. With her father around, there was no need for her to say a word.
Jiang Jingyuan spoke for his daughter.
“They broke up three years ago. Work really wasn’t just an excuse.”
Teacher Yu nearly choked on her tea.
“Unbelievable! You kept it from even me?” she scolded Jiang Jingyuan with a glare.
“How could you, Old Third!”
“I only found out recently,” Jiang Jingyuan defended himself.
“If I’d known earlier, would I have waited this long to arrange a match?”
He shot a look at his old friend.
“But you—you visited Zhong Yi every few weeks while she was studying abroad. Always said you were ‘just checking in.’ Ran over there so often you practically moved yourself.”
“And you never noticed anything?! You can’t paint, and now it turns out you’re slow-witted too!”
Teacher Yu refused to be outdone.
“Her drivers and house staff all covered for her. What was I supposed to do? Maybe the real issue is the people you hired!”
The two elders launched into a full-blown squabble.
Zhong Yi had seen this scene too many times to bother reacting. She grabbed her phone and slipped off to the kitchen to find the housekeeper.
Zhou Shiyi took a sip of tea, stunned by how things had unfolded.
Come to think of it, Teacher Yu had never even realized he existed. During all those visits to Zhong Yi’s place, he’d never once run into her.
Back then, Zhong Yi had told him she was living in a shared villa with roommates. The landlord was friendly, and she got along well with the others.
Turns out her “roommates” were household staff.
Back at the tea table, the argument raged on.
“Dad, Teacher Yu—carry on,” Zhou Shiyi set down his cup and stood.
“I’m going to check on Zhong Yi.”
In the kitchen, the housekeeper had just plated some drunken fish and handed Zhong Yi a piece.
Zhong Yi leaned against the counter, nibbling away. As a child, she never sat at the table to eat.
The housekeeper would sneak her bites while cooking, and by the time all the dishes were served, Zhong Yi was already full.
“What are those two arguing about now?”
“My wedding photos.”
“That’s worth arguing over? Don’t they have better things to do?”
Zhong Yi laughed, then circled back to the real issue.
“This time they actually have a reason. Teacher Yu found out about me and Zhou Shiyi’s past, and now she’s blaming my dad for not telling her.”
The housekeeper had already known about their relationship. One day while making rice cakes together, the two of them had chatted idly about the engagement.
The housekeeper didn’t understand why Zhong Yi had agreed to it—she lacked nothing, so why choose a political marriage?
“Because it’s Zhou Shiyi,” she had answered.
And then, she’d told her the whole story.
“I thought you’d told Teacher Yu.”
“I meant to,” the housekeeper said.
“But then he made that sour face and I forgot.”
They both laughed.
“Did you go out on the boat today?” the housekeeper asked.
“Mhm.”
“Saw Grandpa Lu at the pier. Still strong as ever.”
“He’s in better shape than you or Teacher Yu, and he’s over seventy.”
“I thought he’d retired ages ago.”
“He’s worked his whole life. As long as he’s still standing, he won’t stop.”
Grandpa Lu had been a boatman for over fifty years, the town’s oldest traditional rower. Even with a grandson who was a celebrity, the old man never stopped doing what he loved.
“Did you take his boat?”
“No, his was behind ours in line.”
The housekeeper handed her a bowl of soup.
“The fish was salty—drink this.”
Just as Zhong Yi took the bowl, a tall figure appeared at the kitchen door.
Zhou Shiyi.
He’d heard their conversation about Grandpa Lu and paused, unsure whether to come in or back away.
The housekeeper had her back to the door and kept working. Zhou Shiyi silently met Zhong Yi’s eyes and gestured toward the courtyard. Then he turned and left.
“How’s the taste? Too salty?” the housekeeper asked as she marinated meat.
Zhong Yi took a sip before answering.
“It’s good. What is it?”
“Wild greens,” the housekeeper said, naming a vegetable Zhong Yi didn’t recognize.
“Spring’s the season for them. You used to love this soup when you were little.”
“Did I?” she murmured. No memory at all.
She drank absentmindedly, guessing Zhou Shiyi had come to ask about the wedding photos.
But she’d deleted them all.
Who would’ve thought they’d find their way back to each other after three years apart?
When she finished the soup, she found an excuse to slip outside.
“Wait, Xiao Yi!” the housekeeper called after her, handing her a plate of watermelon.
“Take this to Zhou Shiyi. I soaked it in well water—it’s cold and sweet.”
Just yesterday, it had been cold enough to wear coats. Today, with the sun out, it was full-blown summer—hot enough to crave air conditioning.
Zhou Shiyi sat under the pergola, out of sight from the tea room.
His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms. From the moment she stepped outside, his gaze had followed her.
Zhong Yi placed the fruit on the table and sat across from him.
She nudged the plate toward him, picked up a slice, and took a bite. Cool, crisp, and sweet—it reminded her of Chencheng.
The little girl would’ve loved this. Maybe she should’ve let her stay and play a while longer.
“You still have the raw files for the wedding photos?” Zhou Shiyi asked directly.
She had guessed right.
Zhong Yi looked at him. “Deleted.”
“No backups?”
“We broke up years ago. Why would I keep them?”
Keeping a backup would’ve defeated the whole purpose of deleting them.
He didn’t reply.
She took another bite of watermelon. Back then, she’d handled all the post-processing herself. All the raw files and edited photos were in her possession.
After the breakup, she couldn’t bring herself to throw out the printed ones, so she’d brought them back from Boston. But every digital copy—she’d erased them two years after they split.
Each time she saw them, it hurt all over again.
She had to stop tethering herself to the past. So that night, after working late and finishing her yoga, she hit delete.
Afterward, it felt like a hole had been punched in her heart. She filled it with work. Worked herself into the ground—so much that even Ning Que had asked if she was human.
But it was too late for regrets.
“Is the laptop still around?” Zhou Shiyi asked.
“It is, but you won’t be able to recover anything.” Zhong Yi paused. “I deleted them so thoroughly I even locked myself out of recovery.”
She hadn’t just hit delete—she’d professionally shredded the data.
Zhou Shiyi pulled out his phone and called Zhan Liang, asking him to contact the photo studio to see if there was any chance they still had the files.
Zhan Liang sensed bad news but agreed.
“Got it, Mr. Zhou. I’ll ask right away.”
Even the boss had said “if possible.” That said a lot.
Ten minutes later, Zhan Liang called back. The studio had deleted the files long ago.
Over the years, those servers had been overwritten by thousands of other couples. Nothing left to recover.
Zhong Yi offered, “Maybe we can just reshoot?”
Zhou Shiyi looked at her.
“Can we really recreate that?”
She didn’t answer.
That first seaside shoot was full of pure joy—something you couldn’t fake.
Even the second set, strained as they were, still showed undeniable affection.
She kept her head down, chewing her watermelon. Zhou Shiyi broke the silence.
“If you want to, we can take new ones someday. When the time feels right. But not now.”
Then added, “When we get home, give me the laptop. I’ll try recovering the files.”
“And if you can’t?”
“If I want to, I can.”
Zhong Yi didn’t argue. Let him try.
Recovering them might be just as hard as training their Kunchen AI model to cut energy use by 50%.
Zhou Shiyi glanced at the plate of glistening watermelon. He had no appetite. Meanwhile, she was eating with quiet enthusiasm, bite by bite.
“All that just for a few hundred wedding photos? You really had to nuke them?”
“I didn’t know we’d end up back together.” Zhong Yi paused.
“I just thought—if they leaked, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to your next partner, not to mine.”
He understood that feeling. He’d been through it too.
They locked eyes for a moment—then both looked away.
He remembered once seeing a photo of her and Lu Cheng. Lu Cheng was tall, in school uniform, crouched down to carry her on his back as he spun her around.
She had her arms around his neck, skirt flaring, both of them laughing, completely carefree.
It had been after their college entrance exams. A bunch of classmates had returned to school for photos. That moment had been caught by a friend.
Knowing she had an ex was one thing. Seeing it—seeing that—was another.
That image had become a thorn in his heart.
The courtyard was quiet. The only sound came from her nibbling the watermelon.
After a long pause, he asked, “What about the framed print? You threw that out too?”
Zhong Yi lifted her gaze to meet his.
“No. I couldn’t bring myself to toss it. It’s stored in the utility room.”
Something in Zhou Shiyi’s expression finally relaxed.