In the following days, Shen Yanzhou and Cheng Ye's work became increasingly frequent. Cheng Ye appeared at the office from time to time, sometimes to discuss design plans, sometimes bringing new photos he had taken or new interpretations of architecture. Shen Yanzhou gradually realized that Cheng Ye saw things differently from him—not only did he observe the surface of the buildings, but he was able to understand the stories behind them through light, shadow, color, and composition.
This ability made Shen Yanzhou feel both intrigued and confused. He didn't understand why he cared so much about how a photographer viewed his designs, especially someone who had once left traces in his life.
"This building's interplay with light is the most interesting part," Cheng Ye said, sitting across from Shen Yanzhou's desk, with several photos spread out. The photos showed the still-unfinished building, with its surface taking on different colors and textures depending on the time of day.
"Light and shadow," Shen Yanzhou murmured, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the photo. "This building itself isn't complex, but its relationship with light could be considered its soul."
Cheng Ye's eyes flashed, a small smile curving his lips. "I've always believed that architecture has life, just like a painting. The alternation of light and shadow is its breathing rhythm."
Shen Yanzhou paused, the words hitting him harder than he expected. Cheng Ye's comment aligned with his own design philosophy, though he had never truly appreciated the emotional depth behind his work. He had always been focused on the technical and the grand. Now, Cheng Ye was making him question whether he had been overlooking something deeper.
"You're right," Shen Yanzhou nodded slowly, his voice flat. "The building isn't just a structure. It's a conversation between form and space, but can that really be found in these high-rise towers of this city?"
Cheng Ye smiled softly. "Maybe not everyone will understand, but I think we just need to make something truly meaningful."
Shen Yanzhou stopped, his gaze locked on Cheng Ye's face. There was something more to his words—an unspoken sentiment. This person, once a naive student, now seemed so much more complex, yet still wore the same warm smile, which seemed to mask something deeply hidden.
"I don't often participate in projects like this," Shen Yanzhou finally said, his voice colder. "We focus on commercial real estate, high-end properties. This kind of project doesn't align with our usual work."
Cheng Ye's heart sank a little, but his smile didn't falter. He was accustomed to pushing through when others doubted him. "I understand," he said softly. "But I still believe that design is a way of communicating with people, and architecture is a tool to convey emotion. Shen, you aren't someone who would completely reject such an opportunity, are you?"
Shen Yanzhou's eyes narrowed, studying Cheng Ye for a moment. He could see through him—he wasn't just a young photographer; Cheng Ye was someone who had learned to fight for what he believed in. And there was something unsettling about that persistence.
"You're very determined," Shen Yanzhou muttered, leaning back in his chair. "But not every emotion is worth being conveyed, and not every project is worth being preserved."
Cheng Ye fell silent, his eyes thoughtful as he stared out the window. He could feel the tension between them, as if they were both standing on opposite ends of an invisible divide. The warmth in Cheng Ye's words and the coldness in Shen Yanzhou's created a kind of unspoken understanding—a rift that neither was willing to cross... at least, not yet.
"You always seem so calm," Cheng Ye said softly, his voice quieter now. "You never let yourself get caught up in the whirlpool of emotions. But you know, sometimes, being too calm for too long makes you miss the most important things."
Shen Yanzhou's heart skipped a beat at Cheng Ye's words. He hadn't expected Cheng Ye to be so direct. They had always been so distant—teacher and student, mentor and admirer—but now it felt as though their roles were no longer so clearly defined. Cheng Ye was challenging him in ways he hadn't anticipated.
He quickly shifted his gaze away, his voice cold. "You talk too much."
Cheng Ye didn't respond immediately. He stood up, collecting the papers from the table. He knew that Shen Yanzhou's emotional barriers were like steel—unyielding. But he also understood that sometimes, the most steadfast walls could be slowly worn down over time.
"I know you won't agree easily," Cheng Ye said, his tone still gentle. "But I still hope that you'll join this project. Maybe together we can make something different."
Shen Yanzhou didn't answer right away. He watched Cheng Ye leave, and a strange feeling stirred in him. He didn't know why, but he felt a weight in his chest, a kind of tightness that hadn't been there before.
As Cheng Ye left the office, Shen Yanzhou remained sitting at his desk, staring at the empty space in front of him. His mind was a swirl of conflicting thoughts. He had always been able to control his emotions, to keep them at bay, but now, Cheng Ye had stirred something in him. Something he couldn't name, yet something he couldn't simply ignore.
Cheng Ye had changed the equation—he had found a crack in the ice wall, and for the first time in a long time, Shen Yanzhou wasn't sure if he was willing to close it.