Forgotten Photo Studio

Chapter 2 Chen Zhiwei (First update, please vote)

The morning light, like a faded curtain, shrouded the signboard of "Forgotten Photo Studio" at the street corner.

Xu Yan pushed open the door, carrying her suitcase. The wind chimes jingled crisply, like a drop of cold water falling into her still unsettled emotions from the previous night.

I didn't sleep all night, and that blurry image kept appearing in my mind.

No matter how he tried to convince himself that it was just a lingering shadow, just an illusion, that paleness still clung tightly to his heart.

The photo studio was so quiet that you could hear the second hand of the old wall clock ticking.

He slammed his head against the counter, his shoulder feeling like it had been dislocated.

The camera and photos were left on the counter, and his gaze fell on an old black and white photograph on the wall.

The woman in the photo has a gentle smile, her hair is neatly styled, and her eyes are bright and expressive.

That was my mother's wedding photo from the 1950s; the image was grainy, yet clean and pure.

He stared at it for a long time, his gaze settling on the woman's gentle features in the photo, his eyes gradually darkening.

“But my mother’s portrait is not like this.”

The cold photograph flashed through my mind; the paper was so smooth it reflected light, and even the smile looked like a mask that had been pasted on.

After my mother passed away, the funeral home took her portrait for free, but it was rushed and perfunctory, like a cold number given to a stranger.

At that moment, he realized that some photos are not for "keeping memories," but for "erasing the last bit of humanity."

Perhaps that's why he went to learn photography.

He walked into this photo studio not because of money, nor because he was bored, but because he wanted to know if there were still people in this world who would seriously remember what someone looked like.

Ridiculous, right?
As a result, all he photographed were dead people, or even things that weren't quite dead.

"Hey, senior brother."

A clear, cheerful voice came from the stairwell, "Those dark circles under your eyes... did you get beaten up for not being able to complete your task? Or were you drained dry by a female ghost?"

Xu Yan looked up.

Chen Zhiwei was leaning lazily against the armrest, her white shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her jeans neatly tailored, and her ponytail swaying over her shoulder like a restless little tail.

"Speaking to the owner like that, do you want to be kicked out?" Xu Yan's voice was hoarse and cold.

"Tch, what's so great about the owner? I wonder if he can even remember who he is." Chen Zhiwei slowly walked down, her smile still there, but there was no joy in her eyes. "What did Grandpa see in you? He passed on the photo studio and the Soul-Sealing Camera to you. All you do all day is put on a deadpan face. What's the difference between this place and a haunted house?"

Xu Yan raised his eyes, his tone indifferent: "Isn't that right? Apart from the two of us, who are alive, everyone else is dead."

"What a pity, ever since you took over this run-down restaurant, we haven't had a single customer in a month." Chen Zhiwei raised an eyebrow, her tone tinged with disdain.

Xu Yan didn't reply. He just took out his cigarette case, his finger hovered over the lighter for a moment, and then remembered the shop's rules, his movement freezing in mid-air.

Chen Zhiwei squinted at him, her tone suddenly lowering: "When Grandpa was alive, you would still smile. Now, everyone who sees you feels terribly cold."

Chen Zhiwei walked to the counter, deliberately leaned down, her collar slightly open, and looked closely into his eyes. "If this continues, sooner or later someone will really think you're a ghost."

Her gaze, however, did not seem like a teasing glance, but rather like she was scrutinizing whether his eyes were empty and his pupils were cloudy.

She clicked her tongue lightly: "Tsk, her eye sockets are sunken. It really wasn't a female ghost doing this?"

Xu Yan's Adam's apple bobbed, and he said coldly, "If you keep talking nonsense, I'll really take you in as a female ghost."

Chen Zhiwei smiled slightly, but there was a hint of seriousness in the depths of his eyes.

She was certain that his indifference was not just a personality trait, but something else was eroding him.

Chen Zhiwei glanced at the photo on the counter—a cold, hard image with a slanted shadow. She stared at it for two seconds, then her breath caught in her throat. She looked up and asked, "Is it resolved?"

Xu Yan nodded.

“It seems Grandpa was right.” Chen Zhiwei took the photo and walked towards the old elm wood filing cabinet in the corner.

The cabinet door creaked open.

Rows of kraft paper file folders stood neatly arranged, the handwritten ink on the covers faintly fading in the dim light:

"The Vengeful Ghost—South City Alley—2016"

"Waiting Ghost - Subway Line 7 - 2018"

She picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote:
"The Ghost of the Lonely Building—Jiangcheng Old Town—2018"

Chen Zhiwei slid the photograph into the file folder, lightly touched the seal with her fingertips, and whispered:

"That way, it won't run around."

Xu Yan suddenly recalled his master's words: "Shadows lock the soul."

Can photos really seal away ghosts?

He leaned against the counter, staring at the yellowed covers, and casually asked, "You're really serious. Even ghosts need to register?"

Chen Zhiwei glanced at him: "Do you think this is a joke? With the files, they won't turn into vengeful ghosts."

"So, these are... seals?"

“Preservation of memories is not the same as sealing them, but the loss of preservation will cause ghosts to escape.” She closed the cabinet door, her fingertips gently stroking the wood grain, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “When a person dies, their soul disperses, but as long as someone remembers it, it will not completely disappear. Grandpa said that if no one remembers them, they will come back to seek a sense of existence.”

Xu Yan stared at the cabinet door and lowered his voice: "What if we burn these files?"

Chen Zhiwei was silent for a moment before shaking his head: "That's equivalent to complete forgetting. The past is erased, and the blank space left behind... no one can predict what it will become."

"Hey."

Chen Zhiwei suddenly gave him a push, breaking the dull atmosphere, "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Offer incense." She waved the lighter in her hand, her eyes unreadable. "After collecting them, we still have to worship them."

Behind the photo studio is an ancestral hall. From the bronze incense burner, wisps of smoke rise, and the ever-burning lamp trembles gently in the morning light, its wick flickering.

Chen Zhiwei lit three incense sticks, raised them to her brow, and spoke in a voice as soft as falling ashes:
"May your soul find its home, and your shadow find its resting place. May the newly added soul no longer suffer loneliness. May you rest in peace, and never wander again."

Xu Yan took the incense, ran his fingers over the fine ash, stared at the flame for a long time, and suddenly spoke:
"Zhiwei, do you really think these things still have any meaning?"

Chen Zhiwei turned her head to look at him.

"The photo studio is piled high with ghost photos. They can't be eaten, and they can't be exchanged for money." Xu Yan's voice was low, like a sigh, or perhaps a sneer. "But we're living people. We need to eat, we need to pay rent. What do you think we're keeping all this for?"

Chen Zhiwei paused in inserting the incense sticks, then slowly said, "Meaning may not be measured by the living. Grandpa said that as long as the records exist, the souls will not be disturbed. Only when someone remembers them can they be said to have a home."

Xu Yan scoffed: "Home? I think it's a cage. The photos lock them in, they can never escape. True liberation is not about leaving a photograph, but about letting them completely disappear."

Chen Zhiwei's eyes were stubborn as she stared at the rising wisp of smoke: "That's forgetting, not liberation. Being completely forgotten is more terrifying than death. You think this is trapping them? No, it's preserving a vestige of order. People live by their memories, and after death, their souls remain the same."

Xu Yan was silent for a moment, then suddenly sneered: "Order? So we're just cleaning up the mess this world makes, filing them out one by one, stuffing them into drawers, and that's it?"

PS: This is the first update of the day. Please vote! The second update will be at noon, and the third update will be at 6 PM.

(End of this chapter)