Before long, Xiao Jingwen’s phone vibrated.

While the CEO was feeling sweet inside, thinking, Ah, my boyfriend really pays attention to me all the time; as soon as I left a comment, he sent me a private message, he switched back to his chat list…

The person messaging him was Zhang Miao.

Xiao Jingwen’s smile instantly vanished.

[AAA-Ocean Gallery Assistant Zhang]: Mr. Xiao, do you like that painting? Our Teacher Lin has never done a red-background piece before! Would you like to discuss the price?

Thirty-five minutes later, without Lin Congzhi’s knowledge, the painting in his hands was sold by Zhang Miao to the CEO of Gleam for 155,000 yuan.

“How far along is the painting?” Xiao Jingwen asked as he changed into his slippers after returning home.

“Hmm?” Lin Congzhi’s eyes were glued to the screen, where a documentary was playing on the large living room display. Just like before, he bypassed the sofa and sat directly on the floor.

Lin Congzhi pressed pause on the remote and asked, “What did you just say about how far along the painting is?”

“Upstairs.” Xiao Jingwen pointed upward, and Lin Congzhi’s gaze followed the direction of his index finger.

“Ah.” Realization dawned on Lin Congzhi. “I don’t feel like moving anymore. Let’s talk about it next year.”

Xiao Jingwen: ?

Xiao Jingwen knew full well that when painters said “let’s talk about it next year,” it almost certainly meant literally next year.

“Though why are you asking about it?” Lin Congzhi blinked.

“I bought that painting.”

Lin Congzhi blinked again. “When?”

“An hour ago.”

“Oh, Zhang Miao.” Lin Congzhi guessed it in one go. “Sometimes I really feel like Zhang Miao working as my assistant is a waste of her talent.”

“Indeed.” CEO Xiao evaluated from a professional standpoint. “She understands client needs very well.”

“…” Her client’s needs were probably painfully obvious, Lin Congzhi thought to himself.

Though looking back, meeting Zhang Miao really had been quite a coincidence.

The two sat side-by-side on the rug against the sofa. Lin Congzhi leaned in close against his shoulder and said seriously, “Actually, I kind of want to fire Zhang Miao.”

Xiao Jingwen understood him completely. “You feel like staying at your half-dead gallery is holding her abilities back.”

“…” Lin Congzhi sat up straight, turned his head to stare at him, and hesitated to speak—because his gallery was indeed half-dead.

“My apologies,” Xiao Jingwen apologized.

“Apology accepted,” Lin Congzhi said. “She used to work at an art museum in another city—the kind of contracted job inside the system? I don’t really know the exact details, but anyway, she didn’t like the social environment there. At the same time, her family was nagging her to get married, so she packed her bags and came here to look for a job on her own. You could say she stumbled into my place by accident.”

After finishing, Lin Congzhi added, “She wasn’t arranged by you, was she?”

“No,” Xiao Jingwen said. “But if you don’t want to keep running the gallery, I can arrange a position for Zhang Miao at Gleam. We never turn down sales talents like her.”

How should he put it… Lin Congzhi looked at him, the light in his eyes flickering.

He did, just a tiny bit, not want to run the gallery anymore. Just a little bit.

Because running a gallery was completely different from what he had imagined! —But a man couldn’t easily expose his weaknesses! The proud gallery owner straightened his back and said, “It’s fine, really. Actually, the profits of my gallery are… ha, haha… more than enough to support Zhang Miao, Xiao Chen, and me.”

At this point, Xiao Jingwen was somewhat unsure of what to do. He had been exposed to corporate management since he was 13—a full 20 years by now. He could roughly guess the earnings of Lin Congzhi’s small gallery without even looking at the books.

Boss Lin, putting on a brave face, continued to boast: “Actually, the customer base is pretty stable. Even though you can buy a printed Monet on Taobao for just a hundred yuan these days, at my place, an original piece is an original piece after all… The original piece… it…”

The original piece was beautiful, and expensive.

Boss Lin was a merchant with a conscience; a single tube of paint cost over five hundred yuan, and if he wasn’t satisfied with a painting, he would paint right over it.

Xiao Jingwen couldn’t bear to expose him, so he merely nodded along with a few “mhm”s. Such was the state of society today—otherwise, why would people online say: “Dance majors join dance troupes upon graduation, music majors join orchestras, and art majors join Meituan delivery”? See, that was the current employment reality for fine arts graduates—

Thud. Lin Congzhi’s head dropped heavily onto his shoulder. Xiao Jingwen let out a sigh.

“Teacher Lin, business is inherently tough to run. There’s no need to force yourself,” Xiao Jingwen turned his head, looking down at the mop of curly hair. “Besides, the economic climate hasn’t been great these past few years. You had zero experience and suddenly plunged into business, bearing full responsibility for profits and losses—it’s completely normal to reach this point.”

Xiao Jingwen’s words were already extremely neutral and objective. At the end of the day, running a gallery was a sales industry. Small galleries bought and sold paintings with a fixed clientele, usually getting acquainted with a few collectors. Large galleries went without saying—they collaborated directly with world-renowned painters to host exhibitions.

Thus, small galleries required even more deliberate management. Other small galleries were already taking the “niche hidden gem” route, running accounts on Weibo or RED to build an aesthetic vibe. How could Lin Congzhi ever think of such things?

Yet he simply wanted a gallery—or rather, he needed a place with an exhibition space to hang his own works. Ideally, this exhibition space would extend into a corridor leading to an art studio, and the studio had to be large enough with great lighting, plus a bedroom where he could sleep. That was his ideal life. And the concept of a gallery happened to satisfy all of those needs.

The Little Prince stepping out of his gingerbread house to hustle for a living—that concept simply couldn’t hold up. In certain worldviews, the prince would only ever be snatched away by a giant black dragon.

Lin Congzhi let out a sigh. Xiao Jingwen was still trying to save face for him: “However, you’re very capable. Given time, you’ll definitely become famous. Plus, Yuchen’s art museums in recent years have also…”

“Enough.”

…The armor had completely shattered. Lin Congzhi let out a couple of dry laughs, reached for the red wine on the coffee table, didn’t even bother using the Louis XVI glass nearby, and took a gulp straight from the bottle, muttering gloomily: “With my current turnover, I can stay within the tax-exempt threshold for micro and small enterprises for the next three years.”

“…” The tax-exempt welfare policies for micro and small enterprises lay firmly in the blind spot of Xiao Jingwen’s knowledge as a major taxpayer.

Xiao Jingwen licked his lips. “But your paintings performed very well at the auction. I didn’t interfere with the results of the summer auction.”

“A piece of that size and quality takes me at least a year to paint.”

“Can’t you still take custom portrait oil paintings?”

“That client was my mother’s classmate.”

“…But you still managed to support Zhang Miao and Xiao Chen.” Xiao Jingwen dug desperately to find the capabilities of Ocean Gallery.

“Ha.” Lin Congzhi chuckled. “I haven’t paid you rent since last month.”

Xiao Jingwen was truly at a loss for words.

Lin Congzhi downed another gulp of red wine. Xiao Jingwen reached out his arm, wrapped it around his shoulders, and patted him reassuringly. Then, he let out a chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?” Lin Congzhi was already quite annoyed.

“If you had told me all this five years ago, I probably would have hauled you up to hold a meeting, explaining how economic fluctuations affect the value of artworks, citing 800 cases to tell you the meaning of ‘antiques in prosperous times, gold in chaotic times.’” Xiao Jingwen paused. “At the same time, I would have been extremely happy that you had finally understood the fundamental nature of how this society operates.”

“But now… I just want you to know that you’re amazing.” Xiao Jingwen turned his head and kissed him on the head, saying, “You’re also very brave and responsible, choosing to pay your employees’ salaries over rent. Though, withholding rent is wrong, Boss Lin.”

Boss Lin tried his best to put on a pitiful expression. “Mr. Xiao, I’m really out of money. Could you give me a few more years of grace?”

Xiao Jingwen was puzzled. “During the summer auction… didn’t you just sell a painting for over four hundred thousand yuan?”

“I’ve pretty much spent it all, because I bought you a…” Lin Congzhi’s voice grew quieter and quieter as he looked away, “…birthday gift.”

Xiao Jingwen reached out, turned his face back toward him, and stared at him. “For me?”

“Ah, who else? None of the people I know have birthdays coming up.”

The focus of this conversation had veered drastically off course, but being the figure he was, CEO Xiao forcibly yanked the topic right back. In the end, he told Lin Congzhi that if he really wanted to run the gallery, he could teach him, and then suggested finding some spare time to look over the gallery’s financial reports.

Lin Congzhi said there was no such thing.

Xiao Jingwen fell silent.

—Of course there wasn’t! Financial reports? Since its opening, the gallery had only sold two paintings in total—two transactions.

In short… Xiao Jingwen refused to believe it. As a business graduate who had been a CEO for five years, could he really fail to turn around a tiny gallery?

“Honestly, doing business is really tough.” Lin Congzhi was now leaning on him entirely. “Every day the moment I open my eyes, there are expenses. Even breathing smells expensive.”

Xiao Jingwen smiled. “It’s fine once you get used to it.”

“Seriously, I kind of pity you now.”

“I’m not pitiful. I earn quite a lot.”

Lin Congzhi sat up, leaving his arm, sat on the sofa, and looked down at him with a cold, scrutinizing gaze.

Xiao Jingwen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Resting one curved arm on the sofa, he said, “Anyway, the gallery can keep the status quo too. I have plenty of operating models I could apply for you, but I think… you’re great just the way you are right now.”

Ocean Gallery currently had no marketing operations, no advertisements, and no partnerships with any famous painters. Plainly speaking, it was just the place where Lin Congzhi painted, having taken on an apprentice named Xiao Chen to train one-on-one.

It was very pure. If there was any expectation for its future, Lin Congzhi only hoped that after Xiao Chen finished his studies and went out to establish himself, he could still recruit another fellow painting enthusiast.

Whether taking commissions online or accommodating adults who wanted to learn an extra skill outside of work, he welcomed it all—even if such people were few and far between.

Yuchen was a rather competitive city, and everyone was under immense pressure. Adults were exhausted enough from work; clearing out time to paint was simply unrealistic. With that spare time, taking a shower, curling up in bed, and watching a movie to recharge made far more sense.

Boss Lin looked down at him. The CEO was sitting on the floor, his suit wrinkled in several places. He tilted his chin toward Xiao Jingwen and said, “Take it off.”

Xiao Jingwen was a bit surprised. “So early?”

“…” Lin Congzhi suddenly felt a strong urge to slap him. “It’s wrinkled! …I only asked you to take off your jacket and hang it up. What were you thinking? ‘So early’? No indulging in lust during the day, is that it?”

Xiao Jingwen obediently went upstairs to change into loungewear. Lin Congzhi let out a breath, raising his eyes to look upstairs, and then toward the crystal chandelier suspended from the villa’s high ceiling.

In truth, Xiao Jingwen had always known what kind of person he was and what kind of thoughts he held—he wanted to preserve something pure amidst a restless and noisy world. Yet when all these elements were stacked together, there was an inevitable flaw: poverty.

So Xiao Jingwen wanted to be the knight’s sword behind that rose, creating a fairytale amusement park for his romanticism.

The next morning, the rain finally stopped.

Lin Congzhi tidied himself up, getting ready to head to Xin Jue’s art studio. He thought Xiao Jingwen wasn’t home, but just as he reached the front door, he was wrapped in an embrace from behind like a wild beast pouncing on its prey.

“Where are you going?” Xiao Jingwen held him in his arms.

“To work,” Lin Congzhi said. “To pay you back for rent.”

“If you want to pay me back for rent, you have to work for me,” Xiao Jingwen teased intentionally. “Are you just going to leave the painting I bought lying there ignored?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Lin Congzhi slipped out of his grasp. “One by one. I’m going to the studio first to manage those repeating students, and I’ll come back to manage you later.”

Xiao Jingwen smiled. “Are you coming back tonight?”

“I am.” Lin Congzhi nodded, reaching out his hand with his palm facing upward. “Give me an umbrella, and give me some money for a taxi.”