Lin Lingyu and Hannah owned a small, detached two-story house in Seville. It was not particularly large, but in prime European real estate, it was more than enough for two people to live in.

—However, hosting two entire families made it feel rather cramped!

Lin Congzhi had to lift his wine glass high above his head, navigate past his maternal uncle—who sported a sizable beer belly—and Hannah’s uncle, whose waistline was equally formidable, step over the Corgi lounging on the floor, and push aside an infant stroller belonging to goodness knows which family before finally reaching his mother’s side.

“Phew.” Lin Congzhi felt as though the shower he had just taken was completely wasted. “Mom.”

“Hmm?” Lin Lingyu was busy entertaining guests at the kitchen bar. “Oh, look at you, glowing like a million bucks!”

“Your air conditioner is practically useless; I’m glowing because I’m overheated.”

“It’s just too crowded, though the air conditioner is indeed a bit old,” Lin Lingyu said with a smile. “Hahaha, I originally wanted the two families to come at different times, but they ended up arriving on the exact same day. Are you full? If you find it boring here, feel free to go out for a walk. Where’s Xiao Jingwen?”

“Uh, probably at his hotel,” Lin Congzhi cleared his throat. “By the way, which outfit should I wear tomorrow?”

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone to show his mother the photo album. He had brought two suits with him and wasn’t sure which one to choose.

Lin Lingyu selected the charcoal suit with grey vertical pinstripes for him. At the same time, she leaned in to whisper a little secret: Hannah’s brother would be wearing a pink suit, so he could look forward to that. Lin Congzhi laughed, putting on a show of mock regret: “Darn it, I brought a pink suit too!”

“Are you talking about the one with the bow on the back? Stop acting; you wouldn’t have worn it out in public anyway.”

“Fair point,” Lin Congzhi agreed with a nod.

This was a little quirk of Lin Congzhi’s—Xiao Jingwen owned a pink belt, which Lin Congzhi had given him as a gift. Once, at Lin Congzhi’s request, Xiao Jingwen had actually worn that pink leather belt out to work. Sometimes, Xiao Jingwen genuinely couldn’t tell which of the two of them was the bigger freak.

In truth, Lin Congzhi used to tease him quite a lot. During the year they got together, Yu City was also experiencing a season of heavy rainfall. The downpours disrupted traffic so severely that for a few days, everyone had to hold meetings online.

While Xiao Jingwen was holding a video conference in the study, Lin Congzhi stealthily tiptoed in carrying something in his hands, ducking low to keep himself below the camera’s view as he slunk beneath the desk.

The Academy of Fine Arts was a magical place.

Its students could paint, do interior decorating, sharpen eyebrow pencils, and even spread batter to make Chinese savory crepes. When visiting the doctor, they could precisely tell the physician, “It hurts right below my occipital bone down to my cervical vertebra,” leading them to be mistaken for medical students before having to clarify that they were art majors.

So that day, while Xiao Jingwen was holding his meeting at home—maintaining a completely composed, dignified upper body—his left hand was resting on his knee, being fussed over by Lin Congzhi under the desk.

When the meeting finally ended and he lifted his hand to look, the fingernails on his left hand had been painted a bright Barbie pink, complete with a few lovely little white flowers… He hadn’t even been particularly surprised back then.

At the time, he had said: So art majors have such a wide range of career options. Why don’t I carve out that vacant space next to the café on the first floor of Gleam’s lobby for you to open a nail salon?

Lin Congzhi had replied, Sure thing, thanks President Xiao, before scampering out of the study clutching his nail polish box. After double-checking that the video conference had disconnected, Xiao Jingwen gave chase and pinned him down in the living room.

Lin Congzhi thought Xiao Jingwen had chased him down to make him wipe the polish off. Unexpectedly, the man pinned him to the sofa and said: What’s the point of only painting one hand? Do both hands for me.

After dinner, the two extended families spent the evening decorating the little house, with Lin Congzhi helping out in the front yard. Balloons, streamers, and string lights were set up, and neighbors dropped by to chat and exchange hugs.

It was only after returning to the hotel that Lin Congzhi checked WeChat. Xiao Jingwen had sent over several photos: one of his dinner—pizza and sparkling water; another of the city night view taken from his hotel room window; and one taken of a computer screen, mentioning that some urgent work had come up and he would need to hold an online meeting with the company tomorrow.

Lin Congzhi replied: Okay, you go attend to your work.

Due to the time difference, Xiao Jingwen woke up at seven in the morning to hold meetings with several departments at Gleam, which dragged on until five in the afternoon. Consequently, Lin Congzhi didn’t contact him again that day.

Instead, Lin Congzhi paid a visit to a former mentor.

It all started when he went to Lin Lingyu’s house for breakfast, where everyone was doing a final check on the wedding seating chart. While reviewing the seating list, Lin Congzhi caught sight of a familiar name.

This mentor’s surname was Huo—a friend of Lin Lingyu’s. Back when Lin Congzhi was preparing for his entrance exams for the Academy of Fine Arts, Master Huo had taught him for a few months, from which Lin Congzhi had benefited immensely. He decided to drop by to pay his respects to the old gentleman today.

Master Huo was currently living a nomadic lifestyle as a dedicated bachelor and was staying in Seville this month specifically to attend the wedding. His mother gave Lin Congzhi the address and suggested he pick up some desserts and champagne to bring along.

Lin Congzhi asked his mentor to critique a few of his recent paintings. While scrolling to the sketch of the ring from Xiao Jingwen’s vault, Master Huo was somewhat surprised: “This is the first time I’ve seen a jewelry sketch from you.”

He then scrutinized the painting closely, though because it was on a phone screen, he could only zoom in and out to examine it.

In the end, Master Huo offered his assessment: A painting is the externalization of the artist’s inner world. Whatever is in your mind will dictate the lines you draw—you cannot hide it.

Lin Congzhi burst out laughing and asked: But this is a representational painting; I simply drew what I saw.

Master Huo shook his head, holding his teacup: You know, a charcoal sketch can actually convey local color. People who study fine arts draw countless apples; by the time you master sketching, you can even paint the distinct feel of a red apple, a yellow apple, or a green apple.

Lin Congzhi still felt it sounded a bit mystical, so he asked Master Huo again: Then what do you see in this sketch, Master?

Master Huo replied without a moment’s hesitation: Resplendence.

A resplendent gemstone, reflecting his resplendent heart.

Lin Congzhi fell silent; he had no way to refute it. That day, he had seen Gleam’s utterly absurd vault, and atop those piled, mountain-high rare treasures, he had seen Xiao Jingwen perched like a dragon.

“You haven’t told me where I’m sitting tomorrow!” Master Huo noted, seeing that he was preparing to take his leave.

“Oh.” Lin Congzhi snapped back to reality. “Hold on a moment, let me ask my mother.”

He didn’t see Xiao Jingwen again until the day of the wedding.

Xiao Jingwen wasn’t in peak condition; Gleam’s online auction project had run into a few snags, and he had been tied up dealing with them non-stop.

The wedding venue was set in a park, with flowers arranged across the lawn. However, it was quite windy today, and since the space was open and exposed, Lin Congzhi simply needed to keep his distance from the floral archway.

While other guests immediately looked for the brides upon arriving at a wedding, the moment Xiao Jingwen stepped through the flower arch, his eyes sought out Lin Congzhi in the crowd.

He walked straight over, adjusting his cufflinks as he approached. Today, he was wearing the birthday gift Lin Congzhi had given him: the Rose Knight Sword brooch.

The brooch bore faint signs of oxidation, suggesting it hadn’t been tucked away in a display case, but rather held and handled often.

“You…” Lin Congzhi saw him and the brooch, his expression instantly shifting into sheer shock. “What happened to you?”

“Is it that obvious?” Xiao Jingwen said helplessly. “Dark circles are really heavy, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Lin Congzhi nodded. “Should I… help you cover them up?”

“With what?”

“Concealer.”

Because the makeup artist’s ride from Madrid was delayed and the sun was blazing today, Lin Lingyu had slipped some touch-up cosmetics into his trousers pocket.

Xiao Jingwen hesitated for a moment: “Better not… let’s just leave it like this.”

Lin Congzhi didn’t push it further. He pointed toward the buffet table: “Go grab something to eat. They’re getting ready in the RV over there and will be out shortly.”

More and more people were arriving, all friends and family of Lin Lingyu and Hannah. A few recognized Lin Congzhi and came over to greet him.

Alcohol was in abundant supply at the wedding, with champagne and ice cream stored together in a massive cooler chest; Xiao Jingwen couldn’t even find a bottle of plain water.

“Hannah is quite the heavy drinker too,” Lin Congzhi said, pinching his champagne flute. “So the only drinkable liquid at this entire wedding might just be melted ice cream.”

Xiao Jingwen nodded, resigning himself to fate: “And here I was just now, actually hoping to find a cup of coffee.”

“Well, you were dreaming.”

“…” Xiao Jingwen offered him a helpless look, picking up a plate from the food table.

To protect the guests’ makeup, the food on the buffet table was all cut into bite-sized morsels so they could be eaten in a single bite without smudging lipstick. Xiao Jingwen tasted a mini-sandwich that was quite delicious, so he picked up another and naturally fed it toward Lin Congzhi’s lips.

Lin Congzhi was startled, taking a step back and glaring at him: “Didn’t we agree to keep things low-key?”

Xiao Jingwen pulled his hand back with an expressionless face, popped the bite into his own mouth, and muttered softly: “Nobody was looking anyway.”

While his face remained blank, his eyes carried a dark, faintly aggrieved look. Lin Congzhi was most helpless against this exact look. Closing his eyes briefly, he said: “Just hang in there.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the two brides in white wedding dresses stepped out of the vehicle. The band began playing the Wedding March, and everyone voluntarily lined up along both sides of the floral aisle. Two flower girls led the procession while two bring up the rear, scattering petals.

Lin Congzhi watched his mother from the crowd; she was smiling with pure happiness. The outdoor temperature today was 36 degrees Celsius, and suited up in formal attire, everyone was practically roasting alive.

But none of that mattered—he was truly happy today.

The guests were dressed to the nines, every eye fixed on the couple. It was a wedding filled to the brim with love; the two exchanged rings, kissed, and tossed the bouquet.

He was reminded once more of what Master Huo had said yesterday: a painting is the externalization of the artist’s inner world. He indeed rarely sketched jewelry; perhaps he hadn’t realized it while painting, but looking back now, he really had painted that ring so vividly bright.

During his five years adrift at sea, his artwork had mostly been dominated by cold tones, or dark hues like a waning moon over the ocean.

The excuse he gave himself was that his schedule was irregular—he only woke up when the sun was about to set, so his sketches naturally ended up featuring dark seascapes.

But that excuse didn’t hold water; hardly any of his works over those five years featured warm tones. The last time he visited Seville, his mother had asked if he wanted to settle down here and live with her.

At that time, Lin Lingyu was genuinely worried about him—his paintings were far too depressing. But Lin Congzhi was an adult; she couldn’t keep him tethered to her side. Besides, Lin Lingyu understood that he needed to face things on his own.

Lin Lingyu was exchanging hugs with friends and family. During a brief lull, she caught his eye and gave him a sly wink, to which Lin Congzhi winked back.

Everyone was dancing to the music. Xiao Jingwen was standing right beside him, his eyes fixed on Lin Congzhi.

Xiao Jingwen suddenly leaned in close and whispered: “Lift up my suit jacket.”

Lin Congzhi was just about to head to the buffet table for a bite, turning halfway when he heard those words: “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Just a little bit,” Xiao Jingwen explained. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

Lin Congzhi was admittedly a bit curious. He glanced around; everyone was either dancing on their own or gathered around the brides. Taking a quiet step sideways toward him, he pinched the hem of Xiao Jingwen’s suit jacket and lifted it slightly…

“!”

Startled first, he quickly clutched both the front and back hems of his jacket closed: “Why are you wearing that belt?!”

It was the pink leather belt he had given Xiao Jingwen five years ago.

“Mm.” Xiao Jingwen nodded. “Didn’t you say we should keep things low-key? Why are you wrapping your arms around my waist then?”