Fang Jingcheng’s physique was solid, and once he made up his mind, it only took him a few moments to reach out and catch the delicate white butterfly in his grasp.

Xia Fu was wearing a dress they had picked out together—a trendy tea dress, understated and elegant with lace trimming on the front neckline. But the back had a hint of playful charm, showing a stretch of her soft, pale skin. In the warmth of summer, a light sheen of sweat clung to her back, her skin rising and falling with her breaths, smooth as a fish’s belly or softening butter, radiating a sweetness only he could sense.

He gently brushed his lips against her temple, mumbling, “Caught you now. You’re not getting away.”

When he lowered his head, breathing into her hair, Xia Fu felt her heartbeat spin wildly out of control, like it was hammering out of her chest. His low, nasal murmur and the closeness reminded her of a puppy seeking milk; if she ignored him, he’d wither away, pitiful and starved.

She loved that he watched her so intently, loved that he grew nervous and yet tried so hard to keep his composure. The feeling of holding sway over his desire was intoxicating, and she couldn’t resist reaching up to grab at his shirt. “Alright then,” she said sweetly, “you can kiss me now…”

His hand slipped from her shoulder, trailing slowly down her spine, brushing over each vertebra, like a minstrel playing gentle notes on a lute. But Fang Jingcheng swallowed his lover’s melody with greedy passion, pulling her close with their breaths tangled, and Xia Fu felt the ripples of emotion as if she alone could hear the tune.

At the edge of the flower field stood a “waiting platform” built from wooden boards, resembling a snapshot from a foreign animated movie. Covered in ivy, the brown pavilion shielded them from sun and rain, radiating a peaceful, nostalgic charm. After their playful chase, the two of them could sit side by side, flipping through the photos they’d just taken.

In her excitement, Xia Fu’s arm had bounced up and down, causing her photography skills to waver. No matter how handsome the subject was, her lack of technique ensured that a few frames would come out odd. Fang Jingcheng wrinkled his nose at the screen, complaining, “This is so silly; let me delete it,” and reached over to the camera to erase the “blackmail material.”

However, always the considerate one, Xia Fu covered the delete button firmly, arching her back and blocking his hand. “No way, I like them. Even if you make faces, you still look cool. Can’t you just send them to me first?”

Why would any girl like this sort of thing? Did she find him so handsome, or was she just that into his personality?

Oh well, either way, she was just too cute.

“Really? Exactly how cool? Give me details. You’re not just tricking me to share these embarrassing photos with others, are you?”

To test her sincerity, Fang Jingcheng feigned a skeptical expression, resting his hand on her shoulder, and tilted his head to scrutinize her.

She was a strong girl, and at this crucial moment, she could handle a bit of weight from her boyfriend. “Of course not; I want to keep them for myself.”

Xia Fu straightened her back, wracking her brain to come up with an answer. “How could your smile ever look bad to me?”

Others might see Fang Jingcheng as glamorous and perfect, but this expression belonged to her alone.

He laughed, “Alright, alright, go ahead and keep it.” Lifting his chin, he moved his hand to the side, curling his fingers loosely around her ear, softly cupping her earlobe as he urged her, “Stop watching that video; scroll forward and see if you like the ones I took.”

“Alright, I’ll check them out.”

During the Bluetooth transfer, Xia Fu clung tightly to his arm, watching the progress bar with hawk-like intensity, just to prevent Fang Jingcheng from deleting the video at the last second. Once it was one hundred percent transferred, she finally scrolled forward.

When she saw the photos on the screen, Xia Fu froze for a second.

She’d taken photos with friends before, of course. Early in the semester, she’d joined her roommates for a photo spree on the pedestrian street, but crowded scenes like those made her uncomfortable. Even in her prettiest dress, she still felt awkward and self-conscious, automatically hunching her shoulders and forcing out a shy smile—quiet, almost invisible, like a wallflower.

But now, bathed in the clear blue sky, standing out amidst a sea of flowers, she was the radiant centerpiece of the scene, the undisputed lead in the photographer’s eyes.

Sure, she had also looked brilliant in her competition photos, but that was only due to professional makeup and designer clothes; the sparkle there wasn’t truly her. But here, in everyday clothes and a touch of light makeup, the photos felt like a love letter written in tender glances, thanks to Fang Jingcheng’s skillful composition and ability to set a relaxing atmosphere.

No, anyone could see Fang Jingcheng’s talent. He made everything look great; it wasn’t anything special.

But did she really give him this kind of smile?

“Do you like them?”

Fang Jingcheng’s voice snapped Xia Fu out of her trance. She pressed her lips together, answering honestly, “Yeah, you made them look amazing… I never thought I’d have pictures like this.”

The young man grinned. “You’re naturally adorable; I just recorded what I saw.”

Gazing into his bright blue eyes, Xia Fu saw her own small reflection in them, like a white wave cresting in the ocean. She knew he was about to kiss her again.

She was vaguely dazed, knowing she shouldn’t let herself get too invested in him, yet unable to simply turn away.

Just then, her phone began to vibrate at the worst possible moment, snapping her out of it. Her messages were lighting up; it was her younger brother Xia Changqing, urging her to reply to the photos she’d promised him.

“It’s the weekend! Are you still in bed? I bought you a lipstick, so make sure you use it!”

“Hurry up and send them! If I don’t push you, who knows how long you’ll take to get started!”

Xia Fu raised her wrist to show Fang Jingcheng the conversation, chuckling apologetically. “I’ll reply to my brother first, or he’ll start calling nonstop.”

Since Fang Jingcheng had already let her scroll through his photos, she figured it’d be fair for him to see this harmless chat.

Though a bit annoying, her little brother was still family, so Fang Jingcheng held his tongue. “Sure, go ahead.”

He rested his head on her shoulder again, glancing at the screen briefly as they chatted, and could already gather that Xia Changqing was a bit of a bratty little brother, always teasing her.

Honestly, it was good for him that Xia Fu had a younger brother who cared about her love life. A few pairs of limited-edition sneakers or some in-game skins could easily buy his loyalty, and who knew, he might even put in a good word to their parents.

But seeing Xia Fu’s unintentional frown, Fang Jingcheng decided it’d be better to keep his distance on this for now.

“Just a bit busy earlier; I’ll send them over right now.” Xia Fu brushed off her brother’s messages and turned back to her boyfriend, smiling gently. “I want to show my family the photos you took.”

Always bold in his actions, Fang Jingcheng didn’t mind showing off a little. With his permission granted, Xia Fu shared a picture in her family’s group chat.

Though polite, her brother’s nosiness over the weekend made her feel a slight rebelliousness.

Why should she send it just to him? The rest of the family could “see” her too.

She was valuable—smart and beautiful. Only by affirming this over and over could she secure enough support to keep studying.

Even if they decided to “sell her off,” they’d have to wait until she was ripe for the picking, and carefully choose the right family. Until then, she had time to prepare.

Her winnings from the math competition had done a lot to ease the family’s debts, making her more valuable to them than her brother, who was only bringing in pocket change from odd jobs. The family group chat grew lively with compliments after she posted the photo.

“Out with friends? The photos look like something from a studio, so beautiful!”

“College life seems to be treating you well. You look a bit chubbier since leaving home—very healthy! Keep up with the exercise.”

“She’s grown up so much, hasn’t she? Good looks and top grades. Are there lots of boys after her now?”

But in their small town, the talk quickly shifted from compliments to marriage prospects. As soon as her parents chimed in with comments like, “Girls should focus on their studies. No distractions. You’ll need someone close to home who knows you well, so you two siblings can look out for each other,” Xia Fu figured it was best not to let Fang Jingcheng see any more.

Quickly locking the screen, she said, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m done with it. Where to next?”

Fang Jingcheng was well-versed in the traditional mindset of elders, so he knew better than to stir the pot. The days were long, and all he cared about was Xia Fu’s affection for him now.

With a casual smile, he shared his next plan, “Let’s get something to eat, then rest up before deciding if we want to keep shopping. Oh, and the photos look a bit plain on the screen; once I get home and print them out, they’ll look way better.” He didn’t dwell on the earlier conversation.

…

Even though life was now highly digitized, college students often preferred to keep their photos on their phones for personal enjoyment. Yet Fang Jingcheng still cherished the old habit of printing photos, loving the unique, tactile experience.

He had set up an expensive printing machine in his apartment to develop his favorite shots. After they parted ways, he dove into his studio, humming a tune while enjoying the photos the machine spat out, planning to keep the best ones.

Fang Jingcheng reached out, pulling a thick photo album from his bookshelf.

Unlike his usual stylish attire, this album had a retro photo studio vibe—a hard cover in sky blue, embellished with silver daffodils, the spine adorned with a silver tassel that gave it a vintage feel.

He placed the album carefully on his lap, lovingly stroking its rounded edges, before flipping through its pages.

He hadn’t lied to Xia Fu; before her, he had never taken photos for any other girl.

The first half of the album showcased landscape shots he had published, followed by childhood toy photos he had practiced with, each page documenting the growth of Fang Jingcheng’s photography journey. A few family pictures followed, and the last page held a singular, damaged picture of him and another person, carefully re-glued together.

In the web of cracks, a girl in a gray-blue sailor dress leaned her head on his arm, her fluffy hair brushing against him, her beautiful face adorned with a shy smile, surrounded by blooming flowers. In the background, a rock bore the inscription, “S City Botanical Garden.”

This album was a treasure Fang Jingcheng had secretly salvaged from a trash bin in his childhood.

His parents hadn’t always fought.

In the beginning, when they were in love, they had taken photos at the S City Botanical Garden, united against the family’s “old-fashioned” views as they stepped into a marriage that symbolized “forever.” Later, even as their feelings deteriorated, Fang Siyu’s fragile heart remained a priority. Even amidst the cracks in their relationship, his mother tried to play the loving wife to her despised husband.

But sadly, her compromises only fueled false hopes in him. During their arguments, his father would even dredge up memories of the past, trying to rekindle old flames, arguing, “I was just momentarily lost; you were suffering from postpartum depression, so I couldn’t approach you. I was hurt too.”

“I really know I was wrong… but didn’t I fix things after? Which man in this circle hasn’t made mistakes? What are you still angry about?”

From apologies to questioning, the man took step after step, completely shattering any lingering affection she had for him, letting her pent-up anger erupt like a volcano.

The photographs were torn apart by his mother, the album thrown out of the villa’s window, reduced to a soggy mess in the rain. Only a few had fortuitously landed on the windowsill, and in the end, he quietly picked them up, remnants of his childhood.

Fang Siyu was born early, having at least experienced the warmth of family and his mother’s favoritism.

But what about him? What did he have?

All he faced were arguments and cold wars. If he dared to defy that man, he wouldn’t even have the privilege of a paternal love that he could laugh about… Why should he rely solely on these photos to seek traces of his past?

The heavens had to leave him something; surely there was something he could do.

For instance, while he couldn’t change his parents’ failed marriage, he could strive to take control of his own future.

Fang Jingcheng tenderly stroked Xia Fu’s sweet smile and placed their photo beside the old ones, thinking to himself:

This is mine.

We are different.