Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 12 Tomb Guardians and Tomb Raiders

She paused, her tone turning somber: "And 'tomb raiders'... because the 'tools' we use, the 'path' we follow, are essentially 'theft.' Cameras steal their images, and the process of sealing them is to peel them off from their original 'anchor points' and imprison them within a small piece of photographic paper. We... are actually stealing the last proof of their existence in exchange for a moment of peace in this world."

"Grandpa said this is the most helpless transaction in the world. We are both the maintainers of order and the trampling of another order. That's why we need 'rules' even more, and we need to be clear about the cost of every step we take. Otherwise, what's the difference between us and those who only want to use the power of ghosts and monsters?"

Xu Yan listened intently.

At that moment, he truly understood the full weight behind his master's words, and also understood the contradictory and heavy mission that this photo studio carried.

Tomb guarding and tomb raiding, remembering and forgetting, saving and plundering.

All these paradoxical words together constitute the meaning of their existence.

He is no longer the photographer who only thinks about cleaning up "trash".

He inherited a true legacy, one that flowed with blood and shadow.

A heavy pressure enveloped him, but what followed was a strange clarity.

It was as if the fog that had been shrouding our vision had been lifted, and although the road ahead was more treacherous, at least the direction was now clear.

He slowly stood up, walked to the huge filing cabinet, and ran his fingers over each of the yellowed kraft paper bags.

Every name represents a living person, and a forgotten chapter of their life.

Have they found peace here, or have they fallen into another kind of eternal imprisonment?

The master chose a path to protect these memories, even if the price was that he himself was also consumed by this endless burden.

The "center," on the other hand, chose a different path, treating them as "redundant data" that could be cut, analyzed, and utilized.

What about himself?
Xu Yan's gaze sharpened.

He turned around and looked at the camera on the counter. The dark silver body no longer seemed like just a tool to him, but more like a living, hungry contractor waiting to grow with him.

He inherited it, and with it all the curses and responsibilities that came with that power.

Avoiding orders and passively accepting them won't break this cycle.

The master's forbearance and perseverance may have only led to the "center" taking advantage of him.

The USB flash drive incident is the best proof that they have begun to try to extend their reach into this last "archive," even at the cost of triggering a crisis to silence witnesses.

Can't sit still.

“Zhiwei,” he began, his voice calm yet carrying an unprecedented decisiveness, “Master’s method is to ‘guard.’ Guard this place, guard the rules, and deal with trouble when it comes.”

Chen Zhiwei looked at him, as if she had a premonition of something.

“But some people won’t listen to you just because you follow the rules.” Xu Yan’s gaze fell on the burnt USB drive. “They will see your rules as an obstacle, and your ‘following’ as weakness. They will test you again and again until they completely destroy what you are guarding, just like what the landlord did today. Only the ‘center’s’ methods are ‘cleaner’ and more deadly.”

He picked up the dark gold wide-angle lens, the cool metallic feel invigorating him.

“The things in the box are not for us to continue hiding here and ‘guarding’. They are ‘tools’, tools that allow us to go out and ‘steal’. To ‘steal’ the truth that the ‘center’ has been hiding.”

His thinking completely changed.

They shifted from passive defense to proactive offense.

His master's legacy gave him confidence, while the threat from the "center" ignited his desire to fight back.

Chen Zhiwei took a deep breath; she understood Xu Yan's meaning. The risk was extremely high, but it might be the only way to break the deadlock.

"To hand it over or not?" Zhiwei stared at the charred metal on the table. "If we hand it over, we're clean; if we don't, they'll come knocking." Xu Yan looked at the photos on the wall, as if looking back at a row of nameless tombstones. "If we hand it over, we'll be cut off."

“Let’s try a bluff,” she said, taking an empty USB drive from the drawer. “You take a picture of a fake image and seal it inside. I’ll create an anchor point in the packaging to interfere with their plans. If they accept it, they’ll come back; if they don’t take the bait, we’ll follow them and see where they bury their dirty stuff.”

Xu Yan slowly raised his head, his gaze falling once again on the remains of the USB drive, his expression completely different now.

The previous unease and fog remain, but there is now a heavy, cold determination stemming from blood and heritage.

Opening the box didn't answer all the questions, but it gave him the coordinates and the tools to face them.

The afternoon meeting was no longer about delivering a task.

It is to confront the conspiracy itself.

He gripped the jade piece tightly; its icy touch brought him back to his senses.

“Get ready,” he said to Chen Zhiwei, his voice calm yet powerful. “This afternoon, we’ll go to the ‘Low-Value Materials Recycling Department’…to properly ‘hand over’ the goods.”

He wanted to see who exactly was considered "low-value material" in the other party's eyes.

……

No. 88, Keji Road, High-tech Zone, is an unremarkable gray cube building.

It is not tall, but it occupies a large area, like a huge, silent concrete tombstone, inconspicuously squeezed among several glamorous technology companies.

There are no prominent signs, only a small bronze plaque embedded on the side of the entrance, which reads "Urban Service Rapid Response Center".

Keep a low profile and avoid prying into others' secrets.

Xu Yan stood across the street, carrying the woven bag containing the old man's belongings. Chen Zhiwei stood a step behind him, her fingers unconsciously curling.

Inside the woven bag, besides a few old clothes, lay quietly at the bottom their carefully prepared "bait"—a USB flash drive shell that looked almost identical to the real thing, but with its internal circuit board cleverly altered and implanted with another faint resentment "anchor fragment" that Chen Zhiwei had found deep inside the filing cabinet.

It won't cause damage, but it will be like a drop of ink in clear water, continuously emitting weak, incorrect energy signals.

The actual, burnt remains of the USB drive were wrapped in specially made talisman paper and hidden in a secret compartment of Xu Yan's camera bag.

"Ready?" Xu Yan asked calmly without turning around.

"Hmm." Chen Zhiwei's voice was a little tense. "Is the jade piece reacting?"

Xu Yan subconsciously touched his chest. The jade pendant transmitted a steady coolness through his clothes, helping him resist the unsettling low pressure that emanated from the building opposite.

"Yes, but very faint. It's like... a mixture of many chaotic emotions, forcibly suppressed."

He took a deep breath and stepped across the road.

The revolving glass doors slid open silently, revealing a high-ceilinged hall. The light was so bright it lacked any warmth, and the air was filled with the cold smell of disinfectant mixed with electronic products.

A woman in a standard uniform and with impeccable makeup sat at the front desk, her smile as perfect as if it had been printed out.

"Hello, what service do you need?" The voice was sweet, but completely flat.

"Delivery. Order E-0721." Xu Yan placed the woven bag on the gleaming marble countertop.

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(End of this chapter)