Naturally, he had not.

People do grow and change, but certain parts of them remain fixed in place.

Take Lin Congzhi, for instance—the moment he thought about how Xiao Jingwen had maintained his workout routine over the past five years, building a body of firm, beautiful muscle, his thoughts would spin wildly out of control. Or take Xiao Jingwen—despite his years in the business world, he still couldn’t even speak coherently when facing his first love.

Logically speaking, a CEO in his thirties ought to stay calm in any situation and maintain absolute control over his words and actions. At this thought, Xiao Jingwen let out a self-deprecating laugh. He sighed and said, “Go find some pajamas yourself. There are two sets in your size.”

“Mm.” Lin Congzhi lowered his eyes slightly, his heart a turbulent mix of emotions. Back when they had just broken up, he had felt that their love had been completely worn away by endless arguments big and small. So by the day they parted ways, he believed Xiao Jingwen no longer harbored any lingering affection for him at all.

After his low response, his fingers toyed with the belt of his bathrobe, and he added, “Actually, you don’t need to take the painting down.”

Xiao Jingwen turned back to look at the wall and said, “Didn’t you say it would scare you if you got up at night?”

“It’s fine,” Lin Congzhi said. “It’s not that exaggerated. Neither of us really needs to change anything for the other anymore. Let alone you being thirty-three this year—even I’m almost thirty.”

Lin Congzhi meant every word sincerely.

Over these past years on the boat, watching all walks of life, observing other people’s lives, selling paintings in galleries around the world, with some even picked up by auction houses…

That was when he had finally stepped out of school, and out of Lin Lingyu’s gingerbread house. After the Little Prince had witnessed the world in all its beauty and grayness—he couldn’t tell whether it was love still lingering in the depths of his heart, or if time had simply taught him tolerance and coexistence.

In short, he looked into Xiao Jingwen’s eyes once more: “It’s alright. The painting is really good.”

“…Wait a second.” Lin Congzhi was stunned, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Are you really that moved?”

Xiao Jingwen turned his face away, refusing to look at him. Outside, overcast clouds densely covered the sky, making the light in the bedroom appear exceptionally bright—leaving his tiny flicker of emotion with nowhere to hide.

Just a moment ago, he had noticed something off about Xiao Jingwen’s eyes. A faint glint of light shimmered at the corners, as if holding back tears.

Lin Congzhi bit back the smile at the corner of his mouth and stepped in front of him. But right now, Xiao Jingwen didn’t quite want to face him. He really had lost control of his emotions; he really had come close to shedding tears. He swallowed them back down, wanting to leave the bedroom to compose himself.

So he said, “Don’t… Let me go downstairs first while you change.”

Lin Congzhi simply raised his arms and wrapped them around his neck.

The young man carried the scent of his own body wash. Lin Congzhi’s freshly blow-dried hair brushed gently against his cheek, bringing warm skin and everything comfortably familiar.

A single layer of bathrobe was never tied particularly tightly to begin with, and the sudden movement caused it to slide open halfway across his chest. Xiao Jingwen lowered his head and buried it in his shoulder, holding him greedily, breathing in the scent of his skin, using his lips to part the fabric at his collarbone—sticking tightly to him like a vampire starved for half a century.

Outside, the wind and rain raged on relentlessly. Inside the bedroom, memories from five years ago came rushing back—countless nights spent tangled together right here, drowning in each other’s eyes, reaching ecstasy at the sound of each other’s voices.

A single embrace was not enough. A single kiss was not enough either.

Five years ago, Lin Congzhi had spouted bold words, declaring casually and openly that they should just stick to what they each believed was right. And for five years, he truly had lived casually—drinking, watching the sea, basking in the sun, and painting.

He didn’t miss Xiao Jingwen, and he hoped Xiao Jingwen didn’t miss him either.

Yet after five years without seeing each other, holding this man once again brought him straight back to the starting point.

The starting point of ‘loving him’.

Hasty breaths echoed alongside the metallic clatter of a belt buckle. Xiao Jingwen wrapped his arms around him, turning to pin him against the wall, letting him pull off his belt and slide his hands inside to run wild.

The bathrobe had long been tossed onto the floor nearby. The sound of kissing filled the bedroom, as if filling the five-year void left in this place.

Lin Congzhi was never one to bottle up his emotions. His upbringing had taught him to take things up and let them go, to drink today’s wine while today was here. Irrespective of past grudges and future consequences, if Lin Congzhi wanted to hug, he hugged; if he wanted to kiss, he kissed.

Soggy, wet weather; a typhoon sweeping over everything. Five years ago, when they broke up, the weather had been just like this—torrential rain and howling winds cancelled most flights, flooded the subways, and suspended school classes.

Flashbacks of past memories flickered through his mind. Five years ago in this bedroom, packing up Lin Congzhi’s luggage; five years later in this same spot, bringing each other pleasure with their hands. The moment it was over, Lin Congzhi’s legs went weak, and he was held firmly in place by Xiao Jingwen.

Fortunately, Xiao Jingwen’s arms had enough strength to hold him tight. He leaned in and kissed his neck near his throat. Originally, Xiao Jingwen had intended for him to go rinse off while he handled his own leftover mess in the other bathroom, but Lin Congzhi’s waist and legs were the only things lacking strength—as oil painters, their hands were quite capable.

Well then. The food would just have to be reheated one more time.

That night, Lin Congzhi went to sleep early; he was simply exhausted.

Xiao Jingwen’s bed was immensely comfortable, and the 432 Hz sound of rain outside felt like a lullaby sung by God. The air conditioner was set to 25 degrees Celsius, and as he sank into the duvet, a very faint, soothing sleep-aid fragrance lingered in the room—everything was in its most comfortable state.

He slept deeply. When Xiao Jingwen finished handling his work, took a shower, and entered the bedroom, Lin Congzhi woke up only vaguely. The mattress sank—Xiao Jingwen had gotten in. Half-asleep and half-awake, Lin Congzhi couldn’t quite tell what time or day it was; he simply snuggled into Xiao Jingwen’s arms, murmured something unintelligible, and drifted back to sleep.

Due to the continuous heavy precipitation and strong gale-force winds, Gleam entered a holiday state.

The online auction had concluded smoothly, though the payment platform side submitted a supplementary agreement, hoping to raise the kickback rate and establish a long-term, targeted partnership with Gleam Auction House on that basis. In short, for the profits of this online auction, the online payment platform wanted a higher commission rebate, but the perk they offered Gleam in return was that they would not partner with any other auction house for online bidding over the next seven years.

Regarding this, Gleam’s senior executives held meetings with Xiao Jingwen over the past few days to discuss it.

And because of the severe weather, they could only hold virtual meetings.

On the other end, Xin Jue could only video chat with Lin Congzhi to check up on the students’ progress.

The art studio hadn’t taken a break; the students came over to paint almost every day, completely soaked through. There was no helping it—painting, musical instruments, and dance were all disciplines where a single day’s slack was unacceptable. They had to paint every day, practice their instruments every day, and work on their fundamentals every day.

“Show me Lu Jue’s sketch from today,” Lin Congzhi said.

He was in the living room on the first floor, his laptop resting on the coffee table while he sat on the rug between the sofa and the table.

“Lu Jue…” Xin Jue was holding his phone on the other side, checking the names on their paintings one by one. “Oh, this one.”

Lin Congzhi narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to the screen. “Tilt the camera up a bit higher.”

Lined across the floor of the art studio were everyone’s life sketches. Lin Congzhi knitted his brows, stepping back to take a look before telling Xin Jue to move closer for a shot.

Repeating students were always the ones art studio teachers worried about the most. Lin Congzhi let out a sigh and said, “Tell her to go back to drawing plaster casts again. There’s a problem with the facial features in this portrait, especially the ear. Find her a plaster cast of facial features to draw from life, and tell her to go feel the cast with her hands to see how the ear curves before she draws it.”

Xin Jue agreed, then showed him a few other repeating students.

Most of the repeating students possessed decent painting skills—after all, they had already gone through the intensive training last year. He looked through a few pieces and felt reasonably satisfied.

“How about I head over there tomorrow after all?” Lin Congzhi said.

“No, no, don’t.” On the other side of the video call, Xin Jue sat down and took a sip of water, saying, “The rain is way too heavy, and it’s really not necessary. Intensive training hasn’t even started yet, so there’s no need to be this tense.”

Lin Congzhi bit his nails twice and said, “Let me see the color pieces.”

“We didn’t paint color,” Xin Jue said.

“Why…” Lin Congzhi asked halfway through before cutting himself off. “Oh, the humidity is too high.”

“Tell me about it. High humidity alone would be fine—with my air conditioner dehumidifying plus a dehumidifier, it’s actually manageable. But damn it, the window leaked rain last night and completely flooded the paint boxes on the floor. None of the nearby stationery stores are open today, so there’s nowhere to even buy paint.”

Lin Congzhi was rendered speechless.

Xin Jue sighed, “I don’t know what’s going on this year. This rain is practically killing us.”

“Yeah…” Lin Congzhi said melancholily. “This year really is…”

He chatted on video with Xin Jue for a while until Xin Jue had to go critique the students’ paintings. Lin Congzhi mentioned that he would still try to find a way to head over in the next couple of days.

Taking over Xin Jue’s class had been an accident. When he returned to Yuchen last year to open an art gallery, Xin Jue was one of the few buyers who actually came knocking. Buying art was just a pretext; seeking talent was his true goal. He said he had heard that Lin Congzhi—the one whose graduation project auctioned for 190,000 at Gleam five years ago—had arrived in Yuchen, and hoped he could come over to teach a class.

Actually, Lin Congzhi had been quite annoyed back then and calmly informed Xin Jue that the price had been artificially inflated by Gleam’s own people, and the buyer of his graduation piece was Gleam’s current CEO. But after chatting for a bit, Xin Jue explained the situation with his students, and in the end, Lin Congzhi was convinced.

Those repeating students in Xin Jue’s art studio were indeed a lingering knot in Lin Congzhi’s heart. He didn’t know how Yu Shijing was doing now, nor whether Yang Qingzhi’s affair had affected him.

Lin Congzhi climbed up from the floor, closed his laptop, and prepared to head upstairs to get Xiao Jingwen to give him the gossip. On the day of the auction, Yu Shijing and Lubifei’s old followers had caused a scene at Gleam; he was somewhat curious whether anything had happened after things were settled, even though he had already decided to respect other people’s destinies.

Knowing Xiao Jingwen was in a meeting, he first went to the fridge to grab a drink.

Honestly, his original intention really was just to find a drink, but the moment he opened Xiao Jingwen’s fridge, the first thing that barged into his line of sight was a bottle of champagne so chilled it was covered in frost.

How could an alcoholic like him resist? He pulled it right out and carried it upstairs to the third-floor study. He was going to ask Xiao Jingwen if this bottle was up for grabs.

The study door wasn’t locked. He knocked twice with his knuckles and pulled it open a crack to peek inside. Xiao Jingwen wasn’t wearing headphones, so the voices of the other meeting participants flowed straight out of the speaker.

It sounded like a meeting with a foreign agency; Gleam had plans to establish a branch in Europe this year.

Xiao Jingwen’s brows were knitted tight, and Lin Congzhi knew why—the guy speaking at the moment had an accent from goodness-knows-where, carrying both the flavor of pizza and curry, making it exhausting for Xiao Jingwen to listen to.

When Xiao Jingwen spoke English, it possessed a lazy, sensual quality. His swallowed sounds felt natural, free of any forced pronunciation.

How should he put it? Lin Congzhi suddenly felt the charm of a man at this age.

After Xiao Jingwen finished a sentence, Lin Congzhi tapped his index finger against the edge of his laptop.

The meeting had already been going on for an hour, so Xiao Jingwen couldn’t switch languages instantly. He raised his head and asked him quite naturally: “Yes, darling?”

Lin Congzhi lifted the champagne bottle and followed his mood: “Daddy please?”