I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

The third-floor corridor of the steel mill's guesthouse was quiet. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting interplay of light and shadow on the floor.

Li Jing'an's office door was tightly closed, the curtains were half drawn, the light was dim, and there was a repressive ambiguity.

On the sofa, Jiang Yuebai sat stiffly, her hands tightly gripping the sofa cover, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed, tears welling up, ready to fall at any moment.

Li Jing'an stood before her, holding the camera he had brought back from Shanghai, the lens pointed directly at her. A frivolous and greedy smile played on his lips, his eyes sweeping over her with unbridled lewdness.

"Take your hand away, don't block the way."

Jiang Yuebai trembled, timidly lowering her hands that were covering her chest, her shoulders slightly hunched, her whole body shaking.

"Director Li... no, Brother Li, I beg you, please stop filming, okay?" Her voice choked with sobs as she pleaded humbly.

"Why not take a picture?" Li Jing'an took a step forward, his tone flippant yet sinister. "It would be great to preserve you exactly as you are now. You can take it out and look at it later when you want to, hehe."

"Brother Li, I'm begging you, please let me go..." Jiang Yuebai could no longer hold back, tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto her chest, and flowing down her body. She dared not cry out loud, only biting her lip tightly, her shoulders trembling, looking pitiful and helpless.

Seeing this, Li Jing'an not only didn't soften, but became even more excited. He held up the camera, his eye pressed against the viewfinder, a twisted smile playing on his lips: "Alright, alright, don't cry, just keep this expression, don't move, whatever you do, don't move!"

"Click—"

The crisp sound of the camera shutter was particularly jarring in the quiet office.

Jiang Yuebai closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face, feeling as if humiliation was overwhelming her like a tidal wave. She wanted to escape, but she dared not. Her children and sick husband all depended on her job at the guesthouse for a living; if she offended Li Jing'an, her family's livelihood would be cut off.

Li Jing'an put down the camera, glanced at it with satisfaction, then looked up and commanded, "Okay, change the position again. Now, lie face down on the desk, lean forward, turn your head back, and look at me. Hurry up, can't you understand human language? Don't make me repeat myself."

Jiang Yuebai felt ice-cold all over, her steps heavy as if filled with lead, as she slowly moved to the desk. She bent down, placed her hands on the table, and turned her head in humiliation to look at Li Jing'an's camera.

"Yes, yes, that's it. Look at the camera, don't look away. Okay, great, that looks amazing."

While directing, Li Jing'an frantically pressed the shutter, one shot after another, as if he wanted to freeze all her vulnerability, humiliation, and helplessness on film. He enjoyed this feeling of being in control, enjoyed seeing Jiang Yuebai unable to resist and only able to be manipulated by him; his desires and perverse pleasures were greatly satisfied.

After taking more than a dozen photos, Li Jing'an put down his camera, walked to Jiang Yuebai's side, reached out and pinched her chin, and said in a flirtatious tone, "Next, it's time to take a photo of the two of us together. Are you looking forward to it? Hehe."

Jiang Yuebai trembled all over, too frightened to speak, and could only shake her head desperately, tears blurring her vision.

Li Jing'an just chuckled.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Footsteps were heard in the corridor in the afternoon, followed by a gentle knock on the door.

Li Jing'an, who was still fiddling with his camera, cleared his throat and asked in a deep voice, "Who?"

"Brother Jing'an, it's me, Qin Huairu." A woman's gentle voice came from outside the door.

"Come in," Li Jing'an said, his movements of fiddling with the camera continuing.

"Brother Jing'an, you're finally back." Qin Huairu walked into the office and said softly, "Yan Bugui, the third uncle in our compound, has been waiting for me at the gate every day for the past few days, asking when you're coming back. He's asked me several times already."

Li Jing'an raised an eyebrow and immediately understood what was going on.

It's Yan Jiecheng's business.

A while ago, Yan Bugui tried to get Li Jing'an's help to get his son, Yan Jiecheng, a temporary job at a steel rolling mill. After a month, the mill, citing Yan Jiecheng's good performance, transferred his personnel file from the street office to the factory. However, after receiving the file, the factory never notified Yan Jiecheng to start work, and now they won't even let him do temporary work.

Without a personnel file, Yan Jiecheng couldn't even get a new job. He was getting on in years, and if things continued like this, no one would even be able to introduce him to a wife. Yan Bugui was desperate and had no choice but to turn to Li Jing'an again. In this matter, no one but Li Jing'an could help.

"He didn't say what it was about?" Li Jing'an asked casually.

"He didn't go into details, just said that as soon as you get back, I should send him a message." Qin Huairu replied obediently.

"Alright, I understand." Li Jing'an waved his hand, his tone indifferent. "Go back and tell him I'm back."

"Okay, Brother Jing'an, I'll go downstairs now." Qin Huairu nodded and turned to push the door open to leave.

"Hey, wait a minute." Li Jing'an suddenly called out to her.

Qin Huairu turned around, looking puzzled. "Is there anything else, Brother Jing'an?"

Li Jing'an's lips curled into a malicious smile as he looked her up and down, his tone ambiguous: "Yes, that's good. Hehe, I just came back from Shanghai with a camera. I'll take some pictures of you as a souvenir."

Qin Huairu was taken aback, and subconsciously looked down at her work clothes. She smiled a little embarrassedly, "Ah? Brother Jing'an, I'm wearing these work clothes. They're all dusty and won't look good in the photos. I guess I'll pass."

"It's nothing, what's wrong with work clothes? Simplicity looks better." Li Jing'an pointed to the door without further ado, "Go, lock the door."

Qin Huairu showed a hint of surprise on her face and muttered softly, "Huh? They even lock the door..."

Although she was a little confused and felt that there was no need to lock the door when taking pictures, she didn't dare to disobey Li Jing'an. She smiled and nodded, turned around and walked to the door, and gently pushed the latch on.

The small office was instantly and completely sealed off, isolated from the world.

Qin Huairu turned around and walked somewhat awkwardly to Li Jing'an. She subconsciously straightened the collar of her work clothes, then raised her hand to smooth the stray hairs on her forehead. With a shy smile on her face, she stood obediently, waiting for Li Jing'an to take a picture.

Looking at her docile appearance, Li Jing'an's smile widened.