Ah Chong and Wan Qing stepped into the club room. A lone figure sat at the central table, hunched over a laptop.
"Ah! Mingming!" Wan Qing called out immediately, hurrying toward them with her usual chaotic enthusiasm.
Zhou Ming—vice president of the photography club and unofficial tyrant of the school's paper team—looked up from the screen. His expression flickered from confusion to mild alarm at Wan Qing's approach.
"You seem chipper." Zhou Ming points out.
Wan Qing shot Ah Chong a look, then turned back to Zhou Ming with a sheepish flutter of her hands. "Good news! The hard drive is not missing." She jabbed a thumb at Ah Chong. "He reminded me I passed it to you."
Then, her expression twisted.
SMACK!—her palm landed square on Zhou Ming's back, loud enough to make Ah Chong flinch.
"Mingming you chicken dick! You could've told me when I was panicking!" She scolded.
Zhou Ming merely exhaled through their nose—more amused than anything—as he adjusted his glasses. A tiny, malicious smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "I wanted to see how long it would take for you to realise," he said, tone perfectly calm.
Ah Chong stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, watching the scene with the expression of someone who'd witnessed this exact argument maybe thirty times too many.
"You—!" Wan Qing looked like she wanted to smack him again but Zhou Ming lifted a hand in front of her.
"Anyways. Please sit, we have much to discuss."
Wan Qing huffed—loudly—but dropped into the chair across from him.
Ah Chong pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, stretching his legs out under the table. Zhou Ming placed his hands on his laptop, eyes settling on him.
"The photos you took this week were great," Zhou Ming said, straightforward as ever.
Ah Chong blinked, a small smile tugged at his mouth. "Thanks, Ming-ge."
Zhou Ming nodded once, satisfied. "Composition's getting sharper. You're finally learning not to tilt the camera like you're in an action movie."
Wan Qing snorted. "He's improving despite you, Mingming."
Zhou Ming didn't even look at her. "Despite you, you mean."
Wan Qing kicked him under the table.
He didn't flinch. Instead, Zhou Ming calmly shifted his gaze back to his laptop screen. "Wan Qing," he said without looking up, "don't you have something to tell Ah Chong?"
Wan Qing's expression brightened instantly—as if someone had flicked a switch. "Oh! Yes, yes!" She practically bounced in her seat, whipping around to face Ah Chong.
"Me and Mingming were just talking to laoshi and the principal," she announced dramatically, "and he wants us to make a special edition of the paper for the school's birthday!"
Ah Chong straightened a little. "…Special edition?"
"He also said he'll increase our club's budget," Zhou Ming added like it was no big deal, still typing.
Wan Qing jabbed a finger at him, practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes! That too! More money! Finally!" She might as well have had sparkles circling her head.
"You should've seen laoshi's face when the principal said he'd increase our budget! He looked like he was about to faint!" Wan Qing continued, laughing.
Ah Chong leans back in his seat, "So what's the special thing we're going to do for the special edition."
"We're still ironing out the details," Zhou Ming replied without looking up, fingers flying over the keyboard. "But what we can say is that you'll be handling the coverage of the school festival."
Ah Chong froze, his mind stuttering. Coverage of the festival? All of it? The main stage, the booths, the performances—he felt a twinge of both excitement and sheer dread. The festival is a big event and not to mention it's the school's birthday this year too! Ah Chong could feel his shoulders feel heavier and heavier by the second.
Zhou Ming finally looked up, adjusting his glasses, a smile on his face, "You're the best we've got. We trust you and your shots."
Wan Qing leaned forward, practically bouncing in her chair. "Don't overthink it! You'll have full access to everything—stages, booths, even behind the scenes. It's going to be amazing! And… we're also thinking of featuring some behind the scenes interviews too. Imagine the shots you could get!"
Ah Chong felt a warmth in his chest. It was flattering that his two seniors trusted him with something this big.
"Don't worry about the back-end stuff—the both of us and the rest will handle that. You just focus on getting the shots," Zhou Ming added, his voice calm but carrying a reassuring weight. He offered a small, genuine smile.
Ah Chong returned the smile. Zhou Ming had always been the blunt, no-nonsense type—straight to the point and rarely showing much emotion—but he had his moments where his caring side was unmistakable.
Ah Chong remembered the day he nearly left the club as a first-year:
Ah Chong handed a slip of paper onto the central table, "I will be leaving the photography club, here is my form." He announces.
The room went dead silent, the quiet almost deafening. Gu-laoshi—the teacher in charge of the club—blinked a few times. "Student Ah Chong…are you sure?" he asked, uneasy.
The club president at the time stepped forward, eyes wide. "Ah Chong, you can't leave…"
Ah Chong bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can stay in this club." He turned on his feet to leave, but a sudden shriek stopped him in his tracks.
"NOOOO!" Wan Qing was barrelling towards Ah Chong and dramatically dropped to her knees, clutching Ah Chong's calves. "You can't leave! The club—the club needs you!" She cries out, as if she was pleading to the heavens.
The former club president carefully stepped around her, placing a firm hand on Ah Chong's shoulder. "Ah Chong, we need your skills. Please reconsider!" His tone was earnest, eyes pleading.
Around them, the rest of the club members watched with hopeful expressions, silently urging him to stay.
In the midst of the chaos, Zhou Ming stepped forward, calm and composed. Adjusting his glasses, he spoke, voice measured but carrying undeniable weight. "Ah Chong. Your skills, your eye… they're exceptional. The club needs you. We hope you'll reconsider."
Ah Chong froze, the weight of all their gazes pressing down on him. Wan Qing clung stubbornly to his calves, her face buried in his knees as if he were the only anchor keeping the club from falling apart. The former president's hand on his shoulder was firm, grounding, yet pleading at the same time. And then there was Zhou Ming—calm, composed, but every word carried a weight that seemed to bypass his thoughts and settle straight into his chest.
…How could he just walk away from this?
Ah Chong swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he bent down to meet Wan Qing's face. "I… I'll stay," he murmured.
Wan Qing squealed in relief, throwing her arms around him before he could fully pull away. "Yes! Thank you, Ah Chong! You won't regret it—I promise!"
The memory never fails to put a smile on his face.
He glanced at Wan Qing, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then at Zhou Ming, calm and composed as ever. "Alright. Got it." He sighs, a small grin forming on his lips.
-
After the brief meeting with Wan Qing and Zhou Ming, the bell finally rang, and the three of them returned to their respective classrooms. The rest of the day dragged on, each lesson blurring into the next.
Even with all the exciting things waiting for him at the festival—the vibrant booths, the performances, the chaotic energy—Ah Chong couldn't focus. His thoughts kept circling back to Jia Wei. Would he be there? Would he participate, or even just show up?
Ah Chong buried his face in his arms on the desk, the words barely a whisper even to himself. "I can't stop thinking about him…"