Both sides took a step back and released their hold.

“You…” Lin Congzhi gestured somewhat evasively, “your tie.”

“Oh.” Xiao Jingwen pushed the knot of his tie back up, smoothed his collar, and gave the hem of his suit jacket a downward tug.

Lin Congzhi also straightened his clothes, let out two coughs, and said, “If… if there’s nothing else, then I’ll head…”

As he spoke, he pointed in a random direction, not even knowing the way back to the exhibition hall—in any case, he couldn’t remain here. This was too strange; he had actually embraced and kissed someone so passionately in a public space in broad daylight… even though there was no one around. The point was that after walking just a couple of steps, he looked up and spotted a surveillance camera at the ceiling of the corridor.

Oh no. Lin Congzhi was filled with despair, already beginning to calculate when he should head to his mother’s place in Spain to spend the rest of his miserable days.

Over there, Xiao Jingwen walked over and grabbed his arm: “It’s fine, I own shares in the hotel. The surveillance footage can be deleted.”

“What excuse are you going to use to delete it?!” Lin Congzhi yanked his arm free from his grip. Having sobered up now, he was no longer feeling lustful. “Because I kissed my ex under the surveillance camera, so I need to delete it—is that it?”

Xiao Jingwen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “It’s not… it’s not like what you think…”

“Let go!” Lin Congzhi pulled back again. Xiao Jingwen only held onto his sleeve, and Lin Congzhi glared at him: “Stop tugging. It’s Tencel fabric—can you afford to compensate me?”

“I can’t.” Xiao Jingwen cooperated completely and actually let go of his hand. “What I mean is, you don’t need to feel too embarrassed. Half the staff in this hotel are my people, and the surveillance room has many split screens, so they won’t be staring at the screen for no reason.”

It wasn’t that he felt embarrassed about “being seen passionately kissing a man.” If it were just being seen by others, so be it—they were both consenting adults, merely sharing a kiss in a deserted corner. But that was his ex-boyfriend, which made it rather embarrassing.

Lin Congzhi adjusted his breathing, calmed his emotions, and straightened his back as if practicing martial arts to sink his breath to his lower abdomen, saying: “Then deal with it. I’ll… take my leave.”

He had only taken two steps out when Xiao Jingwen dragged him back again. This CEO acted like a rogue in front of him: “Give me a hug before you leave.”

“You let—”

Riiip—

That was bad enough.

To make matters worse, Zhang Miao had searched all over the exhibition hall for him without seeing a trace, so she stepped outside to look for him, with Xiao Chen following behind her. Just as they turned the corridor, Zhang Miao and Lin Congzhi’s eyes suddenly met. The latter’s lips were slightly swollen and glistening from being kissed, his hair was ruffled into a mess, and a piece of his sleeve had been torn open.

In a split second of dead silence, Zhang Miao decisively turned around, covered Xiao Chen’s eyes, hooked her arm around her waist, and dragged her back like a kidnapper. She walked off in another direction amidst Xiao Chen’s cries of “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong, Sis?”

“I’ll compensate you,” Xiao Jingwen said.

“I’ll send the quote to your email in a few days,” Lin Congzhi withdrew his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Xiao.”

He returned to the exhibition hall and sat back down at the bar. Under Coco’s shocked gaze, he gulped down three drinks before calling Zhang Miao and the others to head to the parking lot. Only when they reached the car did he notice that Xiao Chen was holding two large bags in her hands, both printed with the hotel’s logo.

Xiao Chen said Mr. Xiao had asked her to take them, containing the desserts served at today’s refreshment area. Lin Congzhi had drunk a bit too much, so he nodded and said, “Consider him thoughtful.”

Xiao Chen was shocked that her boss would utter such wild words, so she looked at Zhang Miao. Zhang Miao unlocked the car doors: “Stop chatting, everyone get in the car.”

“Teacher!” Xiao Chen was in the back seat, leaning forward to ask, “Teacher, why are your clothes ruined?”

Zhang Miao sighed: “Don’t ask.”

Lin Congzhi also said: “Don’t ask.”

The next day brought light rain once again.

The lingering effects of yesterday’s alcohol remained, leaving his throat dry as he brushed his teeth in the morning.

Lin Congzhi held up his umbrella and went out, walking to the bus stop to wait for the bus. Beneath the ten-centimeter curb of the sidewalk ran a narrow gutter, and the splashing rainwater soaked his canvas shoes. So he took a step back.

Rainy days in the suburbs were always quiet; no one came to stroll through the park, nor did anyone go to look at the sea—there was only the sound of rain.

The bus slowly pulled up, its windshield wipers swinging left and right. The wheels rolled over fallen leaves soaked in puddles before stopping beside the platform.

Lin Congzhi folded his umbrella and boarded. The bus’s air conditioning smelled stale. In truth, the temperature inside and outside the vehicle was about the same, but the atmospheric pressure was low; without the air conditioning, it would be far too suffocating.

On a rainy day during the plum rain season, the plastic seats on the bus were blown cold and sticky by the air conditioner, like an overturned cup of iced latte. Lin Congzhi didn’t want to sit down; it would only take a few stops to reach the subway entrance.

Today he was heading to the studio to paint a plaster cast, teaching facial structure and bone anatomy. He had to take a bus first and then transfer to the subway, while the rain poured even harder. The old standing air conditioner in the studio hummed in the corner. Lin Congzhi folded his umbrella and wiped the soles of his shoes against the mat at the door.

The students gathered around the David plaster cast in the center to paint from life, using a studio light as the light source. Lin Congzhi looked around the room, but didn’t see Yu Shijing. He walked to another classroom, but didn’t see him there either.

Seeing him arrive, Xin Jue came up to greet him: “Little Yu is leaving.”

The words “Why?” reached the tip of Lin Congzhi’s tongue before he swallowed them back down. Why else? She simply didn’t want her son interacting with anyone connected to Xiao Jingwen.

“But the university entrance art exams are only half a year away. He’s leaving at a time like this?”

“I said the same thing,” Xin Jue said helplessly. “His mother plans to take him abroad directly. He won’t take the exam, nor will he study domestically anymore.”

Lin Congzhi froze: “But he retook the exams for four years just for the Central Academy of Fine Arts.”

Xin Jue nodded: “I also…”

“Then what were these four years to him?!” Lin Congzhi couldn’t help raising his voice a little.

Xin Jue continued to nod, indicating that he had already said all of these things himself.

“I need to talk to President Yang.” Lin Congzhi set down his bag, but only after pulling out his phone did he remember he didn’t have her contact information.

“Teacher Lin,” Xin Jue interrupted him. “Believe me, everything you could say, I’ve already tried to persuade her with.”

“No, no, it’s different.” Lin Congzhi clutched his phone. Remembering that Zhang Miao had added Yang Qingzhi on WeChat, he said while sending Zhang Miao a message, “It’s different, Teacher Xin. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but that the matter itself is different.”

Of course he believed Xin Jue had offered plenty of advice and poured his heart out, but he also understood the factors Yang Qingzhi was truly worried about.

Before he could finish typing on his phone screen, a person stood beside Lin Congzhi. It was Yu Shijing.

The young man felt a bit awkward and said, “Teacher, I heard you’re painting plaster casts today. May I watch?”

“Oh, you came over.” Xin Jue was also taken aback. “Sigh, go ahead and watch. Teacher Lin’s plaster life drawing is worth watching.”

Lin Congzhi looked at him with mixed feelings. Being an art student himself, he knew the feeling of retaking exams. People said that for art students, retaking exams for two or three years was no big deal—especially for students determined to get into an academy of fine arts to pursue pure fine arts. Rather than calling it retaking exams, it was more like accumulating experience. Therefore, the more one accumulated, the less one could give up.

“You…” Lin Congzhi had things to say but didn’t know how to phrase them. “Forget it, let’s start the lesson first.”

The students in the sketch classroom placed their drawings in a row against the wall. Lin Congzhi slowly scanned through them, then called out students by pointing at their drawings, telling those with structural issues to sit in the front later, while those with shading issues stood in the back.

He laid out the structure with charcoal on full-sheet sketch paper. A seasoned painter didn’t need excessive measurements; his skill was fully matured, and his control over the charcoal stick was exceptionally strong.

The students cherished demonstration lessons immensely. Aside from an occasional cough or two, the only sound left in the studio was the rustling of charcoal against the sketch paper. The plaster cast bore grey smudges left behind from teachers touching it with their hands when explaining anatomy, and its base had a few chips; Lin Congzhi used a hard pencil to render those gaps.

When the final painting was completed, the students felt as exhausted as if they had painted it themselves, letting out a synchronized sigh of relief.

Painting was just like that. When it came to art exam students, it didn’t require step-by-step analysis like a math class; instead, it required them to observe the process and the methods of handling it. Everyone had their own understanding, and they would all find the painting style they felt most comfortable with.

After finishing the painting, Lin Congzhi stood up, packed away his pencils and eraser, and said to Yu Shijing, “Come out with me for a moment.”

In the corridor outside the studio, Lin Congzhi couldn’t find the words for a moment, so he could only speak candidly: “You’re different from ordinary art exam students. You’re already an adult, your foundation is very solid, and you’re just a step away from the academy of fine arts. You can’t leave at a time like this.”

Yu Shijing clearly didn’t know about the grudges between the adults, pulling his shoulders inward slightly: “There’s nothing I can do. I know I’m already in my twenties, but I don’t have financial independence. If I don’t listen to my mother, her method is very simple—she just won’t give me money. Who paints without money these days? I won’t even be able to pay the registration fees for the university entrance exams.”

“Setting the money issue aside for now, do you want to stay yourself?” Lin Congzhi asked.

“Of course I do.” Yu Shijing pursed his lips. “I retook the exam for four years… isn’t it just to get into an academy of fine arts? I know there are good schools abroad, but… but it’s different. If I really go apply for fine arts academies abroad, even if I get admitted, wouldn’t that make me look like a fool for four years?”

He grew increasingly emotional as he spoke, to the point where Lin Congzhi even caught a hint of a sob in his voice.

So he let out a sigh and said, “I’ll have someone talk to your mother.”

“Have someone? Teacher Xin? He talked to my mother for quite a long time.”

“No.” Lin Congzhi shook his head. “Another person.”

Lin Congzhi wasn’t sure what Yang Qingzhi had said to Yu Shijing. At first, Lin Congzhi thought she simply didn’t want her son interacting with him, but hearing that she intended to take her son abroad made it clear that matters were not that simple.

If it were purely out of aversion toward himself, he could easily flick his sleeves and leave this studio—after all, he had just applied randomly at the start. But taking Yu Shijing abroad was different. For her to be ruthless enough to make her son abandon all these efforts after four years of retaking exams just to go abroad… that was probably “fleeing.”

Thunder rumbled within the dark clouds, occasionally letting out a loud burst. It was now off-work time, close to seven o’clock, and the sky had turned almost completely dark. Pedestrians walked in a hurry, their umbrellas bumping against one another.

Lin Congzhi walked up to the main entrance of Gleam. No one answered Xiao Jingwen’s phone, so the receptionist on duty asked him if he had an appointment. He said no.

“Then… that might not be possible,” the receptionist said with difficulty. “We aren’t very clear about President Xiao’s schedule. If the phone call doesn’t go through… we can’t get in touch with him either.”

Lin Congzhi understood and nodded.

He had walked all the way here, and in the muggy, humid weather, he had broken into a bit of sweat, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His umbrella had also broken on the way over; the ribs were snapped and couldn’t be bent back, hanging limply and making him look quite disheveled.

Seeing him like this, the receptionist couldn’t bear it and said, “How about you take a seat over there and wait for a moment, while we see if we can contact President Xiao’s assistant.”

“Alright, thank you,” Lin Congzhi said.

He walked over to sit on the sofa at the side of the lobby. His phone was almost out of battery, and he was in no mood to play on it. Zhang Miao had replied to him, saying that Yang Qingzhi hadn’t responded to her messages and her phone couldn’t be reached either.

Before long, the receptionist came over to inform him that President Xiao was already on his way back to the company, adding with some concern that without an appointment, President Xiao might not see him even if he arrived. Lin Congzhi didn’t react at first, only realizing moments later that the receptionist was giving him a heads-up, so he smiled and said it was alright.

In short, less than ten minutes later, a dark commercial vehicle pulled up outside the revolving doors of Gleam’s lobby. Before the doorman could step forward to open the door, the passenger inside had already opened the door and stepped out himself.

This man seemed to have welded his suit onto his body.

His superior physique was exceptionally suited for tailored suits. At first, when his assistant told him someone on the first floor of the company was looking for him, he hadn’t paid much mind. Many people wanted to see Xiao Jingwen every day—salespeople, potential partners, and even new media staff who wanted to shape a “chaste CEO” persona for him to market.

At the time, Xiao Jingwen had asked expressionlessly: Are you saying you plan to market my dull sex life?

It had frightened the person quite a bit.

Taking a few strides into the first-floor lobby, he caught a glimpse of the person waiting on the sofa by the glass wall with his peripheral vision, as mentioned by the receptionist.

After a first glance, he withdrew his gaze, but instantly felt something was amiss—

On a second glance, the person on the sofa felt uncomfortable with the sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, so he casually raised his hand to comb them backward.

As he swept his bangs to the back of his head, a few stray strands fell down. Xiao Jingwen stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing this, and the people behind him stopped as well. Immediately after, several people came out from the elevator entrance to greet him, one of them holding a binder.

When they reached him, Xiao Jingwen said “Wait a moment,” then raised his feet and walked toward Lin Congzhi.

Lin Congzhi sat there looking somewhat exhausted, lowering his head. The next moment, a dark shadow fell over him. Before he could even look up, Xiao Jingwen had already squatted in front of him, looking up at him: “Why did you come over?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s about Yang Qingzhi.”

The look in Xiao Jingwen’s eyes subtly shifted, his Adam’s apple moving as he said, “I don’t advise you to wade into these muddy waters.”

Lin Congzhi looked at him: “Is it that you ‘don’t advise,’ ‘don’t want,’ or rather, ‘don’t do this’?”