The sound of the shutter echoed crisply through the gallery, like an invisible drumbeat that struck Li Ming's heart. He stared through the viewfinder, holding his breath, waiting for that perfect moment of light and shadow to collide. The model smiled softly in front of the lens, her features smooth and dimensional under the lights. Li Ming pressed the shutter again, satisfied, though his heart remained unmoved.
"Mr. Li, this shoot is amazing!" his assistant Xiao Zhou leaned in, face full of admiration.
"It's alright," Li Ming replied, removing the camera from his neck and rubbing his sore neck muscles. Since becoming a freelance photographer, he hadn't had a good night's sleep in months. Clients were getting more ridiculous with their demands, competition was fiercer than ever, and even photography had to be taken to extremes just to stand out.
"Are you going to the exhibition tonight?" Xiao Zhou asked.
"Of course. You never know, might run into a big client," Li Ming smiled, though inside he was calculating next month's rent and his growing credit card bill.
As night fell, the city's neon lights glowed like giant eyes, coldly watching every struggling soul. With his camera on his back, Li Ming walked into the downtown art museum. Tonight's exhibition, titled "Between Light and Shadow," featured works from some of the industry's biggest names.
He moved through the crowd, nodding to a few acquaintances, but couldn't shake a growing sense of disappointment. His own photos were hung in a far-off corner with barely anyone stopping to look. Li Ming sighed and was just about to leave when he suddenly heard a commotion behind him.
"Look—what is that?!"
"Is that… lightning?"
Li Ming turned around just in time to see a blinding flash of white light appear on the ceiling, as if someone had slashed the air open. A strange suction force grabbed him, lifting his entire body into the air. His camera strap tightened painfully around his neck as the sound of rushing wind filled his ears.
"What the hell is going on?!" Before he could react, it felt like he was being thrown into a washing machine—everything spinning wildly—until darkness swallowed him.
…
When he finally opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in a strange room. The ceiling was wooden, the walls adorned with a few ink paintings, and the air smelled faintly of ink and mildew.
"Where... am I?"
He sat up, dazed, noticing he now wore a coarse long robe and a pair of worn cloth shoes. Worst of all, his camera was gone—replaced by a calligraphy brush and an inkstone.
"No way... I actually time-traveled?!"
Instinctively, he reached into his pocket and, to his surprise, pulled out his phone. He quickly hit the power button. It turned on—30% battery remaining.
"Thank God. At least you didn't screw me over completely," he muttered.
He checked the phone—only the photo gallery and notes app still worked. Everything else was greyed out. No signal either. He chuckled bitterly. "Guess it's just a glorified USB stick now."
Just then, footsteps approached. A skinny boy pushed open the door, carrying a bowl of thin porridge.
"Senior brother, you're awake? Master said you took a fall last night and need to rest."
Li Ming stared at him, stunned. "Senior brother? Master? Who did I become?!"
He looked down and noticed a scar on his hand. Suddenly, a flood of foreign memories rushed in—this body also belonged to someone named Li Ming, a struggling apprentice at a small painting studio who recently borrowed three copper coins from the butcher next door.
"This setup is so cliché…" Li Ming muttered.
The boy looked concerned. "Senior brother, you okay? You look a little out of it."
"I'm fine, just had a weird dream," Li Ming forced a smile and accepted the porridge, taking a few gulps—nearly choking on how watery it was.
"This porridge is basically just hot tap water," he mumbled, already planning his next move. "If I'm stuck here, I need a way to survive. But I only know photography… I can't even draw stick figures!"
He glanced around. Aside from some shabby furniture, the only decorations were a few amateur-looking paintings on the wall—landscapes, birds, flowers. Clumsy strokes and bland colors. They looked like elementary school art.
"No wonder this studio's struggling."
Then an idea hit him—what if he used his modern eye for composition and lighting to create something different?
He grabbed a brush, dipped it in ink, and tried a few strokes on the paper. The lines came out crooked and shaky, like a drunken earthworm.
"Crap. I've time-traveled with butterfingers."
The boy frowned. "Senior brother… are you still feeling dizzy? This looks…"
"Ahem, I'm trying something new. Innovation!" Li Ming quickly covered.
He opened his phone and flipped through his old landscape shots, attempting to apply the "rule of thirds" to his layout. Unfortunately, his hand couldn't match his vision—the results were… tragic.
"What if… I try projection?" A memory surfaced—ancient times had something like a camera obscura. Could he build a DIY projector and trace the outlines?
While he was still figuring out the logistics, a commotion erupted outside.
"Li Ming! Come quick! The magistrate wants a portrait!"
The boy—Xiao An—rushed in. "Senior brother! Master says the county magistrate wants a portrait today! If we mess this up, the studio's finished!"
Li Ming almost dropped the brush. "What?! I just got here and I'm already being asked to draw a government official?!"
Taking a deep breath, he told himself, "Come on, Li Ming. You've shot celebrity portraits before. A local official? Just another client. Worst case… cartoon style."
He fixed his robe and stepped toward the front hall, mind racing with ideas on how to use modern photography principles to blow their minds.
Still dazed, he sat on the studio bed, trying to reconcile the camera flashes and city lights still echoing in his head with the scent of ink and that ridiculous excuse for porridge.
"Senior brother, you really okay?" Xiao An asked, holding the empty bowl.
"I'm fine… just, uh, jet-lagged."
He checked his phone again—battery down to 29%, a few hundred photos left in the gallery, and a couple of notes. The rest of the apps remained grayed out. "No service," the phone taunted him.
He tried taking a picture. The screen flashed "Storage Full." He nearly threw the phone.
"What's that magic box?" Xiao An leaned in, curious.
"Uh… it's a family heirloom. Captures the beauty of the world." Li Ming lied smoothly.
Xiao An looked awestruck. "No wonder your paintings have become so... spiritual lately!"
If only you saw my stick figures, Li Ming thought.
The studio buzzed with activity. Xiao An listed today's work: "We've got two jobs—one signboard for the butcher and a portrait for the magistrate. Master says if you mess up again, we'll be eating dirt next month."
Li Ming sighed. Talk about hardcore difficulty mode.
He followed Xiao An into the front room. Assistants were grinding ink and cutting paper. Their master sat sternly in the center.
"Li Ming, the county magistrate wants his portrait today. You'd better not mess this up!"
"I'll do my best, Master," Li Ming replied, mentally preparing for disaster.
Xiao An slipped him a note: "Magistrate's got a temper. Loves being told he looks young."
Li Ming nearly laughed out loud. So basically... add a beauty filter.
First up was the butcher. Li Ming took his time with the pig logo, using rule-of-thirds to make it look dignified and balanced. The butcher loved it. "This is perfect! Next time, do a family portrait!"
Then the magistrate arrived—round-bellied, shiny-faced, dressed in full regalia. Behind him stood a calm, elegant girl—Shen Qinghe.
"I hear your studio's work is top-notch," the magistrate declared.
Li Ming bowed. "I shall give it my best, sir."
Shen Qinghe gave Li Ming a glance of clear skepticism.
Li Ming directed the magistrate like a photographer at a headshot session: "Sit straight, lift your chin, now… a slight smile…"
"A smile? For a portrait?" the magistrate asked, confused.
"Smiling makes you look younger!" Li Ming said confidently.
Shen Qinghe stifled a laugh.
As Li Ming painted, he glanced at a portrait on his phone, trying to replicate its light and structure. Halfway through, the magistrate frowned. "Why does your style look different?"
"Ah, I like to innovate. I use 'light and shadow' techniques to bring out your natural aura."
Though baffled, the magistrate saw his younger-looking face and grinned from ear to ear. "Excellent! Fresh approach!"
Even Shen Qinghe seemed surprised.
Once the portrait was done, the magistrate left in high spirits. Master gave a rare nod of approval. "Good job."
Xiao An was bouncing with excitement. "Senior brother, what kind of art is that? It looks so real!"
"It's a secret technique. Maybe I'll teach you one day." Li Ming winked.
Just then, a clear, elegant voice rang out at the door. "Excuse me, do you take special orders for custom pigments?"
Li Ming looked up. A refined woman walked into the studio, fingertips dusted with soft blue pigment, dressed simply yet with poise. It was Su Ran, the shop owner of "Cloud Hues."
She smiled gently. "I heard your studio's style has changed recently. I'd like to meet the new artist."
Li Ming's heart skipped a beat. Here we go… one of the female leads enters the scene.