novelraw Chapter 68 A Real Lie
Chapter 68 A Real Lie
Jiang Ran held the large gift box in his arms.
He shook it slightly to feel the weight. It was quite heavy—about the weight of two bricks.
That made it hard to guess.
An electronic product?
He couldn’t think of any electronic device that needed to be this heavy.
But that wasn’t the main point.
For some reason, that emerald-green gift box felt a little glaring to the eye.
Speaking of which… why green, of all colors?
It gave off an ominous feeling.
“A game console?”He tried guessing based on what “he” on Worldline 1 might like.
“Nope.” Nan Xiuxiu denied it.
“Then…”
Jiang Ran weighed the box again.
“Figurines? Fitness equipment?”
“Pfft—you’re way too good at guessing, hahaha. Hurry up and open it!”
Seeing his guesses drifting further and further off course, Nan Xiuxiu quickly urged him to open it.
He untied the ribbon, peeled away the wrapping paper, opened the gift box—inside was another box—opened that, then foam padding… The whole process had a strangely onion-peeling kind of beauty to it.
Finally.
When he opened the last dustproof bag, the truth revealed itself—
This was…
A camera?
Square and bulky, with an aggressively protruding cylindrical lens at the front. Every part of it radiated age, yet it was meticulously maintained, giving off a classical, refined sense of dignity.
Flipping it over, he could tell it was indeed old. There was no display screen at all. Thick, rugged—clearly an industrial product from the last century.
So, without a doubt, this was—
[…a film camera].
No matter how he tried, Jiang Ran couldn’t have imagined that Nan Xiuxiu would give him a film camera as a gift.
“Do you like it?”
Light danced in Nan Xiuxiu’s eyes as she looked at him with eager anticipation.
Jiang Ran turned his head toward her.
“Why did you think of giving me this?”
“I only found out recently that you like film cameras! You hid it so well—I had no idea you were into something this old-fashioned before.”
Nan Xiuxiu smiled faintly.
“If I hadn’t followed you to Donghai University’s film club last time, I wouldn’t have known you even had this hobby.”
“Besides, aren’t you preparing for a competition with friends from Donghai University’s film club right now? I thought giving you a film camera would be perfect.”
“So? Do you like this model? Sorry… I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t ask your opinion beforehand. I kind of just made the call myself.”
“But I did tons of research online! Everyone said this camera is really good! Anyway, I hope it can help you!”
Jiang Ran didn’t say anything.
He kept turning the heavy camera over in his hands, examining the details.
The FUJI logo on the front showed it was a Fujifilm camera. Beyond that, he couldn’t really tell much, nor did he know how valuable it was.
[…Because everything Nan Xiuxiu believed about him was a misunderstanding—an entirely fabricated story made up by Wang Hao.]
He didn’t like film cameras, and he wasn’t preparing for any competition.
He had gone to the film club only to look for the Positron Cannon. The so-called competition was just an excuse to push Nan Xiuxiu away and avoid dealing with her.
And yet…
All those false lies had, in Nan Xiuxiu’s eyes, become something more real than reality itself.
He didn’t know how to respond to this sincerity.
If he said he liked it against his own conscience, it would fit the moment perfectly.
But how long was this ever-expanding web of lies supposed to continue?
The more deception there was, the deeper Jiang Ran’s guilt became.
“Yo yo yo, Jiang Ran! Are you so touched you can’t even speak? Hurry up and cry already!”
Wang Hao started heckling.
“With such a cool camera, shouldn’t you hurry up and take a photo of Xiuxiu?”
That suggestion immediately drew cheers from the crowd. Everyone urged Jiang Ran to show his skills and use this meaningful camera to take a photo of Xiuxiu.
“There shouldn’t be film in it, right?”
Jiang Ran tried to refuse.
“There is, there is!”
Nan Xiuxiu really wanted the photo too.
“When I bought the camera, the seller asked if I knew how to load film. I said I didn’t, so he said he’d load it for me. He said it’d be ready to shoot as soon as I got it!”
Jiang Ran was speechless.
This was bad.
He was stuck riding a tiger.
The biggest problem was—he had no idea how to use a film camera at all.
That morning, when he photographed Chi Xiaoguo at the film club, she had professionally picked a Kodak camera with autofocus for him, so it had been very foolproof.
But this bulky Fujifilm camera in front of him looked even older than that Kodak. Autofocus—forget it. He couldn’t even figure out how to turn it on.
Just earlier, both Wang Hao and Nan Xiuxiu had been hyping up his “competition project” with Donghai University’s film club…
Now he couldn’t very well admit that he didn’t know how to use a film camera, could he?
“The lighting doesn’t seem very good.”
Jiang Ran glanced around, looking for excuses.
“We’ll add lighting!” The friend group immediately turned on their phone flashlights.
“The background’s messy—hard to compose!”
“We’ll clean it up!” The dorm group stepped in with brute force.
Well then.
With timing, location, and people all aligned, it seemed this photo had to be taken whether he wanted to or not.
Helpless.
Jiang Ran could only recall the details from when he photographed Chi Xiaoguo earlier that morning. He found a position and angle, then aimed the bulky film camera at Nan Xiuxiu.
“Wait!”
Nan Xiuxiu suddenly raised her hand and quickly fixed her hair.
“Let me find a pose!”
“Just take a casual shot,” Jiang Ran replied perfunctorily.
“No way.”
Nan Xiuxiu refused firmly.
[…This is the first photo you’re taking of me… something this meaningful—I have to be serious.]
As she spoke, she began searching for a spot in the living room.
In the end, she chose to sit behind the giant birthday cake. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands cupping her cheeks, tilting her head with a sweet smile. Her pink hair cascaded down like a waterfall from the side—a perfect composition.
“I’m ready~”
In an instant, more than a dozen light orbs flared to life. Both friends and dormmates turned on their phone flashlights, casting another layer of highlights onto Nan Xiuxiu, who was already radiant.
Jiang Ran raised the film camera to his eye and looked through the viewfinder at this girl—someone who had stunned him more than once, and surprised him just as many times.
Blurry.
The image through the viewfinder was like a mosaic. Nan Xiuxiu and the cake blended together.
But how was he supposed to focus?
He tried touching various buttons, but none seemed right. One knob required significant force to turn—he only realized halfway through that it was likely the film advance/rewind mechanism and stopped immediately.
“Hey, hey, hey, why’s it taking so long?” Wang Hao complained, his arm holding the flashlight already tired.
“What are you rushing for?”
The blonde camisole girl was displeased.
“Jiang Ran’s a professional, okay? You think this is as simple as taking photos with a phone?”
“Oh… oh…”
That retort instantly deflated Wang Hao’s confidence.
Although the lies surrounding Jiang Ran had been fabricated by him, hearing Nan Xiuxiu talk about how Jiang Ran was always hanging around Donghai University’s film club made it sound like he should’ve learned how to shoot film by now.
Otherwise, why would he go there so often?
At last, there was a way out.
Jiang Ran finally felt a focusing ring on the lens. After twisting it back and forth randomly, the image snapped into clarity.
Nan Xiuxiu’s sweet smile swayed along with the pink cascade of her hair. The bright flashlights around her sparkled like starlight, reflecting off the creamy surface of the cake and making her already beautiful face appear flawless.
For a moment…
Looking at this unconventional, youthful girl through the viewfinder, Jiang Ran felt a bit dazed.
If none of this had happened;
If their encounter hadn’t been so strange;
If Cheng Mengxue and Qin Feng weren’t weighing on his heart;
If their worldlines were never meant to intersect;
If…
If…
Unfortunately, there were no ifs.
Breathe.
As he pressed the shutter firmly, the camera emitted a crisp click, recording this moment of […] real history.
“Wow, it feels like photos taken with old cameras are so… solemn.”
Another long-haired friend of Nan Xiuxiu sighed.
“Nowadays, when we take photos with phones, we just burst-shoot a ton and then pick one to edit.”
“But with this kind of old camera, a roll of film only has twenty or thirty shots. Every photo you take is one less. You can’t delete or change it… It makes every photo feel incredibly precious.”
Jiang Ran agreed deeply.
That was exactly how he’d felt while shooting. If it were a phone, who cared about composition or expression—you’d just take dozens and pick later.
But holding this heavy camera, knowing he had so few chances, made him cherish every attempt.
Every focus adjustment, every capture, even the pressure applied to the shutter…
All of it had to be precise and careful.
Perhaps that was the charm of film photography. No wonder Chi Xiaoguo was so obsessed with it.
Nan Xiuxiu stood up and walked over to Jiang Ran, looking at the camera in his hands together with him.
“It’s a shame this isn’t a digital camera. We can’t see the photo you just took.”
“That’s right.”
Jiang Ran nodded.
“To see the photos, you have to finish the entire roll of film and then go through a very complicated process to develop it.”
“Nowadays, many photo studios don’t even have darkrooms or developing equipment anymore. Cameras and film like this were already phased out by the times.”
“But don’t you have friends in the film club?” Nan Xiuxiu reminded him.
“They can definitely help you develop the photos.”
Jiang Ran nodded silently.
The film club did have an abandoned little darkroom. Chi Xiaoguo should know how to develop film.
If he wanted to develop that photo, he could certainly ask her.
It was just that…
[…If this worldline could even last until that day.]
Jiang Ran put the lens cap back on the camera and returned it to the dustproof bag.
There probably wouldn’t be a chance.
This was a roll of film that would never be filled, and a photo that would never be developed.
As long as the Positron Cannon could still be activated, there would be a way to send the time-traveling text back to the past.
If luck was on his side, it could even happen tomorrow morning.
When the worldline transitioned again, everything here—everything at this moment—
The cake, the dormmates, the friend group, the camera, the gifts, Nan Xiuxiu…
All of it would be overwritten by a brand-new history.
And all of them would enter brand-new lives, brand-new histories.
“Let’s eat.”
After packing away the camera, Jiang Ran smiled at everyone.
“Thank you all for celebrating my birthday today. I’m really happy.”
The grand birthday dinner began.
A group of college students in the prime of their youth was always loud and energetic when gathered together.
After a few glasses of red wine, everyone loosened up. Jiang Ran’s five dormmates finally got their wish and started chatting enthusiastically with Nan Xiuxiu’s friends.
Each of them was like a peacock in mating season, frantically showing off their talents, knowledge, ideals, and worldviews.
Dormmate No. 1 never did get his promised IPHONE16. He’d spent a few hundred yuan on shipping and insurance fees to buy himself a lesson, and was now chatting with the blonde camisole girl about Benhua, about Kaká, about Honor of Kings.
Dormmate No. 2 had lost all his money on time-based lottery betting. A “group boss” kept telling them to double down after losses and recover everything with one win, and in the end he’d gambled away all his savings. Now he’d joined a new group and was discussing soccer lotteries with a new set of bosses, passionately exposing betting-company odds manipulation and match-fixing conspiracies.
Dormmate No. 3 was even more talkative, lecturing the friend group on financial management.
“If you don’t manage your money, money won’t manage you,”
Dormmate No. 3 declared.
“We college students don’t have much allowance, so we need financial strategies even more—to let money make money and gain more disposable income.”
On this point, Jiang Ran actually agreed.
At Donghai University, many teachers and students traded stocks. Although most still lost money overall, this year’s market wasn’t bad, and many had recovered their losses.
“Stock trading is fine, but don’t put all your money into it. Be rational,” Jiang Ran reminded.
“Tch! Only idiots trade stocks!”
Dormmate No. 3 scoffed.
“How much can you even make from stocks?”
“This year’s market is pretty good,” Jiang Ran said.
“If you held from the beginning of the year until now, you could easily make 20% or 30%. The index itself went up a lot.”
“Only 30%!”
Dormmate No. 3 laughed.
“Only 30% in half a year—that counts as investing?”
Jiang Ran was filled with awe.
Who would’ve thought—hidden masters lurked among the masses. In the 7B523 dorm of Donghai Vocational College of Foreign Economic and Trade, there was actually a financial genius!
“What’s your return rate?” Jiang Ran couldn’t help asking.
Dormmate No. 3 snorted.
“I can hit 300% in a single day. Triple my principal instantly.”
Jiang Ran laughed in disbelief.
“That’s way too exaggerated.”
If it weren’t for all the girls present and giving him face, Jiang Ran would’ve outright said: stop bullshitting. Even Buffett wouldn’t dare brag like that. Tripling principal in one day—how could that be legitimate investing?
“You underestimate your brother, huh?”
Dormmate No. 3 had the bearing of a general. He smiled calmly in the face of doubt.
“This is totally legitimate investing. Zero risk. Every month when my allowance arrives, I turn 1,000 into 3,000. I’ve been doing it for months.”
“Seriously?”
His confidence made Jiang Ran hesitate.
True—it wouldn’t be fair to judge all dormmates by the antics of No. 1 and No. 2.
“Of course it’s real.”
Dormmate No. 3 spread his hands.
“Otherwise how would I have so much money to go to internet cafés every day?”
Everyone instantly leaned in with interest.
Especially the wealthy girls in the friend group—they crowded over, eyes wide in shock.
“How do you do it?”
“Teach us!”
“We want to manage our money too!”
They might be rich, but who would ever complain about having more spending money?
“It’s simple.”
Dormmate No. 3 sat up straight and took a sip of red wine.
“The secret to getting rich through investing is right around us. Most people just lack the vision and courage.”
Mm-hmm, mm-hmm…
Everyone nodded, listening intently, waiting for the ultimate truth.
“I only discovered this after visiting many places.”
Dormmate No. 3 looked around.
“Our school’s back-gate internet café has a long-term promotion—recharge 1,000, get 2,000 free.”
“The moment my allowance hits, I dump it straight into the membership card. In one second, 1,000 becomes 3,000—achieving a 3x return!”
A cold wind blew through the valley.
The entire living room fell deathly silent.
The friend group stared, then collectively took several steps back, distancing themselves from this peerless financial prodigy.
“Genius.”
Jiang Ran exhausted all his knowledge and squeezed out the only word that could describe Dormmate No. 3.
And just like that.
Jiang Ran’s nineteenth birthday party ended in an atmosphere that was both joyful and absurd.
At Donghai Vocational College of Foreign Economic and Trade, the dorm buildings had fixed lights-out at 11:00 p.m., and the gates were also locked at 11:00.
If you were a little late, the dorm supervisor would wait. Too late, though, and you were out of luck.
So after the party, everyone took several taxis and headed back to campus in groups.
Walking along unfamiliar campus paths.
Passing through scenery he didn’t recognize, Jiang Ran escorted Nan Xiuxiu back to the girls’ dormitory.
Along the way, Nan Xiuxiu chattered endlessly, as if trying to make up for all the missed communication of the past days in one go.
But Jiang Ran barely heard any of it. It went in one ear and out the other.
Ever since the party ended, his thoughts had been occupied by Cheng Mengxue and Qin Feng.
Ever since the two of them met in high school, neither had ever missed his birthday…
Even without grand decorations,
Without so many friends showing up,
Without so many gifts,
Most of the time it had just been the three of them eating together, strolling around, watching movies, singing karaoke—
But.
That was irreplaceable. True happiness, being with friends.
“June 1.”
Suddenly, Nan Xiuxiu stopped.
She turned around and abruptly called out the date, interrupting Jiang Ran’s thoughts.
“What?” Jiang Ran asked blankly.
“The day our agreement expires.”
Nan Xiuxiu wagged her finger.
“I calculated it already—the ‘vacation’ I promised you before, plus the extra week as compensation. Starting today… at midnight on June 1, your vacation ends!”
“Oh.”
Jiang Ran nodded.
So that’s what she meant.
Nan Xiuxiu straightened up, blinked, and looked at him.
“Don’t worry. This time, I’ll keep my promise.”
Moonlight reflected in her pupils, along with the countless lit windows of the dorm building.
“Jiang Ran, I promise that for the next ten-plus days, I won’t send you a single WeChat message or make a single call.”
“You know me—I’m not the kind of girl who breaks her word. If I promise something, I’ll do it.”
“So… on June 1, when I message you, call you, ask you out to eat, ask you to go shopping—”
[…Will you be able to keep me company, like before?]
A breeze passed through, willow branches carrying faint fragrance, swaying through her flying pink hair.
With lights-out and gate-locking approaching, the campus was empty and silent.
In front of the girls’ dormitory, only Jiang Ran and Nan Xiuxiu stood facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, sharing the same night wind.
Moonlight couldn’t reach here. Cicadas couldn’t disturb it. Night couldn’t see it. Summer couldn’t hear it.
Jiang Ran looked at Nan Xiuxiu.
Yet he didn’t know who Nan Xiuxiu was looking at.
“…Okay.”
After hesitating for a long time, Jiang Ran gave this irresponsible promise.
“Hehe! It’s a deal!”
Nan Xiuxiu instantly beamed with joy. She hurriedly grabbed Jiang Ran’s right hand and hooked her little finger with his, forcibly sealing the pinky promise.
“I’ll be waiting! Even though I don’t know what competition you’re doing at Donghai University, but…”
“Good luck!”
With that, she waved and jogged toward the dormitory.
Jiang Ran watched her retreating figure.
Lowered his head.
Looked at the little finger that still held warmth.
Nan Xiuxiu.
He admitted that he had seriously misjudged this girl before.
Whether prejudice or dissatisfaction, they had met at the strangest—and worst—moment of his life.
After clearing the misunderstanding, Jiang Ran truly realized that Nan Xiuxiu was a very good girl, in every sense.
Just that…
Good was good.
[…He truly felt nothing for Nan Xiuxiu. No feelings at all.]
Suddenly.
He recalled what Qin Feng had said before sending the empty text last time:
“Human emotions come from a series of shared experiences. Without those experiences, all descriptions are empty.”
Yes.
Shared experiences.
That was the source and foundation of all emotions.
He only had shared experiences with Qin Feng and Cheng Mengxue.
With Nan Xiuxiu… none at all.
At the entrance of the girls’ dormitory.
That bright, lively pink hair bounced as she passed through the face-recognition gate, safely inside.
Watching that free and carefree figure, Jiang Ran was very clear—
Their meeting had ultimately been nothing more than a dream.
Once he successfully sent the time-traveling text using the Positron Cannon, he would be at Donghai University, welcoming Cheng Mengxue’s rebirth.
Nan Xiuxiu would remain at Donghai Vocational College of Foreign Economic and Trade. She might be single, or she might meet a better boy.
But no matter what…
Nan Xiuxiu’s life story would not include a boy named Jiang Ran.
“Hey!”
Nan Xiuxiu, having passed the gate, turned back and waved at Jiang Ran from afar.
“Lights-out’s almost here! Hurry back!”
As if responding to a magical girl’s call, the lights of all the dorm buildings went out at once.
Darkness filled his vision, leaving only moonlight.
That meant it was 11:00 p.m.
Only seven hours remained until the time he had agreed to meet Chi Xiaoguo tomorrow morning.
“Goodbye.”
Across the moonlight, Jiang Ran waved to Nan Xiuxiu.
This time.
Perhaps…
It really was goodbye.