“Student!”

Someone shouted from behind Lin Congzhi. He heard it, but he didn’t stop walking. This was a university campus after all; if you shouted “student” here, it was entirely reasonable for eight hundred people to turn around. So Lin Congzhi didn’t pay it any mind, nor did he think they were calling for him.

Lin Congzhi put in his earphones, put on a live version of Antologia, and continued walking toward the campus stationery store. Class had just let out, and students downstairs beneath the academic buildings were dispersing in different directions—some to the cafeteria, others to the art studios.

“The student in the blue shirt!”

It was that voice again. This time, a restriction had been added to “student.” Lin Congzhi looked down at his loose-fitting, light-blue and white vertically striped shirt… When he put it on this morning, he had specifically asked his roommate if it looked like a hospital gown, to which his roommate said it was fine.

Lin Congzhi paused, took off one earphone, and turned his head back.

“Hmm?” Lin Congzhi blinked. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me.” Xiao Jingwen wove through the crowd, scratching the back of his head. “That day… thank you.”

“Ah.” Lin Congzhi gave a polite, light nod. “It’s alright, no need to thank me.”

With graduation approaching, many unfamiliar faces had appeared on campus—people from art museums, design firms, art education institutions, and the like.

“This is my business card.” Xiao Jingwen handed over a simple white card, stumbling slightly over his prepared script. “I’m… I’m from Gleam Auction Company. Ah, that… that umbrella, I… I forgot to bring it today. How about you add me on WeChat, and I’ll return it to you next time I come over?”

It was 24 degrees Celsius, with heavy rain forecast.

However, at this moment, the rain had not yet started to fall. Lin Congzhi lowered his eyes to look at the card: Gleam Project Manager, Xiao Jingwen, followed by a string of digits below.

Lin Congzhi felt that an umbrella was no big deal, so he said, “It’s fine. It was just bought from a convenience store, you don’t need to make a special trip.”

His implicit meaning was: It’s not worth much, don’t bother, it’s nothing valuable.

Xiao Jingwen interpreted it as: The other party is politely turning me down.

The phone screen dimmed at an opportune moment. Xiao Jingwen squeezed out a smile and put his phone away: “Alright, but either way, I still wanted to express my thanks.”

This time it was from the heart. He naturally wanted to get to know this student—not just because of that rainy night, but perhaps because it was the warmest look Xiao Jingwen had ever received in his life so far.

Lin Congzhi smiled and shook his head again: “It really is nothing.”

Although he didn’t add him on WeChat, Xiao Jingwen thick-skinnedly walked with him toward the stationery store anyway. This time, it really was a coincidence—Xiao Jingwen could say “coincidence” with a clear conscience, because he genuinely needed to buy a pen.

To make himself seem credible, he even pulled his gel pen out of his briefcase and scribbled vigorously on the back of his hand a few times—it was out of ink. Lin Congzhi smiled awkwardly and reaffirmed that it was fine; he didn’t think Xiao Jingwen was stalking him.

“You can just buy a refill,” Lin Congzhi said after they reached the stationery store. “Over there, past the shelf on the left. They have both blue and black.”

“Thank you,” Xiao Jingwen said.

Lin Congzhi had quite a few things to buy, so he picked up a basket. His fine-liner pen was fraying at the tip, so he needed a new one. He was out of white paint, needed another rag to wipe his brushes, and required a calligraphy brush for watercolors… Thinking of this, Lin Congzhi called his roommate. His roommate’s brush was exceptionally good to use, but he forgot the specific model number.

And so, with his head tilted to hold the phone against his shoulder, he reached up with one hand to grab a packaged brush hanging on the shelf while holding the basket in the other.

“Hello? Xu Chen, what number was that brush you lent me over the weekend?” Lin Congzhi tilted his head, inspecting the package in his hand, unable to find where the model number was listed. “Ah, hold on a second, I…”

The next moment, someone reached out to steady his phone against his cheek while taking the basket from his hand. Xiao Jingwen smiled at him.

“I… didn’t find it.” Lin Congzhi nodded at him in thanks. With his hands freed, he held the phone himself. “Oh, it wasn’t bought at school? Okay, send me the link later then, thanks.”

After hanging up, Lin Congzhi said “thank you” to Xiao Jingwen as well.

Xiao Jingwen naturally said “you’re welcome,” and then asked which department he was in. Lin Congzhi replied that he was in Oil Painting.

Hearing it was the Oil Painting Department, Xiao Jingwen was overjoyed, happily sharing how many works by Oil Painting graduate students he had collected. Lin Congzhi mentioned he was still an undergraduate, though close to graduating.

Nearing graduation meant there would be a graduation exhibition, which naturally required a graduation piece. Xiao Jingwen immediately started chatting with him about collecting paintings in the Oil Painting Department over the past few days.

Still holding the basket for him, Xiao Jingwen said, “Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again next Monday.”

“Why?” Lin Congzhi was puzzled at first, but then smiled as he set a brush into the basket Xiao Jingwen was holding, saying, “Because of an umbrella, you’re going to collect one of my paintings too?”

Xiao Jingwen replied, “Of course not, collecting works is…”

“So that’s how it is.”

Next, as they rounded the aisle, they bumped into a girl face-to-face. Carrying a basket of her own, the girl rushed up to Lin Congzhi in a single stride: “What did you buy? Let me see so I can get some inspiration!”

Lin Congzhi pointed at Xiao Jingwen behind him. “Over there, take a look.”

Art students often did this: in the studio, they would meticulously plan what brushes, paints, and paper to buy, only to draw a total blank once they stepped into the stationery store. So whenever they caught a classmate, they’d check out what the other had bought.

Rummaging through the basket in Xiao Jingwen’s hand, the girl mumbled to herself: “Oh right, oh right, I forgot tape! Ah, and a palette knife… Hey, Lin Congzhi, why did you buy…”

“Bringing it back for Xu Chen,” Lin Congzhi said.

“Oh, right.” The girl nodded. “Alright then, I’ll head off first.”

Before leaving, the girl gave Xiao Jingwen a subtle look, then glanced at the shopping basket he was carrying. Clearly, if the graduation exhibition wasn’t right around the corner, she would have stayed to gossip no matter what.

“Lin Congzhi?” Xiao Jingwen confirmed his name, having just heard the girl call him that. “Which ‘Zhi’ is it?”

“The ‘Zhi’ that means a small islet in the water,” Lin Congzhi said. “Ah, let me carry the basket. Sorry about that.”

Xiao Jingwen pulled his hand back slightly and smiled: “It’s fine, I’ll carry it for you. It makes it easier for you to pick things up.”

“That’s so embarrassing.”

“Just consider it repaying my favor.”

Lin Congzhi gave a helpless smile and stopped arguing with him.

The stationery store gradually grew more crowded. With one month left, everyone who had been wandering in a daze ahead of their graduation project deadlines had suddenly snapped awake, rushing to catch up on their progress, making visits to the stationery store inevitable.

The store was somewhat cramped, and because it was quite large, the aisles formed a complex maze. Lin Congzhi turned his head and said to him, “Don’t get lost.”

“Don’t worry,” Xiao Jingwen replied, smiling with pure bliss.

In the end, they still didn’t exchange WeChat info that day, but Xiao Jingwen was so happy that the corners of his mouth remained curled up all the way home that evening.

That smile faded the moment he stepped through his front door.

After leaving the stationery store that day, Lin Congzhi put his earphones back in and continued listening to the unfinished Antologia. The lyrics just happened to reach: “Time heals all things, yet to this day the pain has not diminished.”

Lin Congzhi didn’t actually take him too much to heart. After returning to his dorm, he took a shower and lay on his bed, flipping Xiao Jingwen’s business card between his fingertips. As the card spun through his fingers, Lin Congzhi recalled their interaction from that afternoon and unconsciously burst into laughter.

Soon after, his roommates returned one after another, chatting away. They mentioned that someone had seen people from an auction house in a teacher’s office today—it was that time of year again when they came to acquire graduation works.

As the roommates chatted, they began to sigh. Fine arts graduates usually prepared for graduate school or civil service exams, became teachers, or taught at art prep schools. Someone like Lin Congzhi, who had a strong artistic family background, was exceptionally fortunate. After finishing their chat, everyone washed up and went to sleep.

The next time he saw Xiao Jingwen was on Monday—just as he had predicted.

On Monday morning, Lin Congzhi’s professor called him to the office. When he arrived, he saw Xiao Jingwen sitting inside. Xiao Jingwen stood up to shake his hand, saying, “Hello, student.”

Surprised and a bit hesitant, Lin Congzhi sat down after the professor pointed to the space on the sofa next to Xiao Jingwen.

“This is Manager Xiao,” the professor introduced.

Lin Congzhi looked at him and said politely, “Hello, Manager Xiao.”

The professor explained that the auction house wanted to collect one of his paintings. Lin Congzhi instinctively asked if it was selected blind, and only felt reassured after the professor confirmed that it was.

Moreover, the person who selected the painting was not Xiao Jingwen; Xiao Jingwen had taken photos of the work and sent them back to the company, where a panel of judges made the choice. Once the purchase was confirmed, a contract needed to be signed with Lin Congzhi directly, which was why the professor had called him over.

After sitting down, Xiao Jingwen pulled out a paper contract and handed it to him.

“Take a look first. If there’s anything you don’t understand, feel free to ask me,” Xiao Jingwen said.

“Mm.” Lin Congzhi nodded.

A period of silence followed. The professor sat at his desk, wearing reading glasses, looking at his computer screen. Since it was Lin Congzhi’s first time signing a contract, he couldn’t really spot any potential issues.

After a moment of quiet, Xiao Jingwen picked up his teacup from the tea tray, took a sip, cleared his throat, and said to him, “Mainly look right here.”

Xiao Jingwen pointed to the middle of the contract, leaning in slightly closer: “This is the starting bid price. Our auction house ultimately takes a 5% commission on the hammer price—that’s 5% pre-tax.”

“Oh, I see it.”

“You can request to change it to post-tax,” Xiao Jingwen instructed him on how to negotiate.

Lin Congzhi looked at him, blinking: “Will the difference be very big?”

“If the final hammer price is very high, the difference is naturally significant.”

“I probably don’t have to worry about that, right?” Lin Congzhi asked in a low voice, sneaking a glance at his professor as he spoke.

Xiao Jingwen said, “Not necessarily. Anything can happen at an auction.”

“Ah, forget the trouble.” Lin Congzhi turned to reach into his bag for a pen. “Let’s just leave it at this. Who knows, maybe no one will even raise a paddle when the time comes. Why bother agonizing over pre-tax or post-tax?”

“That’s impossible,” Xiao Jingwen blurted out.

“How is it impossible?” Lin Congzhi chuckled. He then pulled out a sketchpad from his bag to use as a backing board beneath the contract, smoothly signing his name—Lin Congzhi.

The contract was in triplicate. Once finished, he handed it back to Xiao Jingwen.

“Now we can add each other on WeChat, right?” Xiao Jingwen said as he put away the contract, displaying his QR code once more.

Now that they were in a working relationship, it made sense to add each other.

After leaving the office, it started to rain. The plum rain season had arrived in Yuchen. In truth, the umbrella Lin Congzhi had given Xiao Jingwen that day was his only one. Standing downstairs at the office building and staring into the curtain of rain, Lin Congzhi prepared to sprint straight to the art studio, but was stopped by Xiao Jingwen.

Xiao Jingwen opened a large, long-handled black umbrella and said, “Going to the academic building? I’ll walk you over.”

Gleam’s umbrella was quite large, comfortably covering both of them.

Walking side-by-side in the rain, students without umbrellas sprinted past them from time to time. Lin Congzhi glanced at him out of the corner of his eye—a black suit, a neat tie, and the same jet-black briefcase.

Xiao Jingwen was good-looking, with sharp facial features, single eyelids, and thin lips. His proportions were excellent too; Lin Congzhi had always envied a physique that was ‘muscular’ in just the right way.

“What is it?” Xiao Jingwen asked, noticing his eyes were slightly off—from sneaking a glance at first, to drifting off into a daze, to staring directly at him.

“Ah.” Lin Congzhi snapped back to reality instantly, looking straight ahead. “Oh, nothing. I… I was thinking about my graduation piece.”

“Oh…” Xiao Jingwen didn’t overthink it.

Lin Congzhi had once talked to his mother about being gay. His mother was startled for a moment—her initial reaction being: Holy crap, could you actually be my biological son?

Holding his chopsticks, Lin Congzhi hadn’t known quite what to do. He hesitated before saying, “Mom, as for this question… I can’t really answer it for you either.”

Lin Lingyu nodded: “True.”

He certainly wasn’t born from her—she wasn’t Lin Congzhi’s biological mother, but the two of them were eerily similar like mother and son in every aspect. Later, Lin Lingyu attributed it to her own excellent parenting.

Precisely because Lin Congzhi knew he was gay, he was very mindful of boundaries while interacting with Xiao Jingwen, making sure not to cross the line.

He knew very well that he really liked Xiao Jingwen’s type: a mature 28-year-old man with incredible height and proportions. Furthermore, he particularly wanted to see what Xiao Jingwen looked like shirtless—what his muscle tone, density, and mass were like.

The moment he realized this thought had crossed his mind, his hand holding the pen froze, startling himself so much that even the ends of his naturally curly hair shook slightly. Adjusting his breathing, Lin Congzhi slowly let out a breath and continued drawing.

It had been raining non-stop recently. A roommate suggested buying a dehumidifier, saying he could almost smell mold starting to form. Another roommate, who was from the North, said he really couldn’t take it anymore—mushrooms were literally growing on the mop in his girlfriend’s dorm.

Buying a dehumidifier required unanimous consent from the dorm. Lin Congzhi didn’t care either way, slumping in his chair while playing on his phone, saying gloomily, “Whatever you guys want. As you know, I’m a local. When I was little, my family lived at the foot of the mountain—during this season, snail-like creatures would even crawl into my house—”

“Aaaah, shut up!!” the roommate from the North shouted, cutting him off fiercely. “Don’t say another word! I can already picture it!!”

Lin Congzhi laughed non-stop, looking like he had successfully pulled off a prank.

All in all, Lin Congzhi wasn’t afraid. The plum rain season was indeed annoying, but he was used to it. Every year, once this period passed, it was followed by relentless, scorching heat—the blistering sun beating down daily, making you feel as though the soles of your shoes were melting onto the pavement.

The dehumidifier was bought after all, because after discussion, the roommates realized they could resell it to underclassmen later. Lin Congzhi said it was fine, and that if they couldn’t sell it, he could take it off their hands—the advantage of being a local. His roommates threw him looks of admiration.

With the dehumidifier running, although clothes still wouldn’t dry completely, shutting the doors and windows made the indoor environment feel much better. Not only that, but everyone could bring their paintings back to the dorm for storage, as the humidity here was far lower than in the art studio.

Life returned to its original trajectory: grinding out progress in the studio, eating at the cafeteria, and returning to the dorm. Whether it was just his imagination or not, he began bumping into Xiao Jingwen around campus from time to time, and they gradually became familiar with each other.

Xiao Jingwen would look at paintings on his Moments feed. Whenever he saw one he liked, he would screenshot it and send it to Lin Congzhi, asking, “Classmate, is this one for sale?”

Lin Congzhi would mostly reply, “That one was lost long ago.”

Some were truly lost, while others could still be found, but he felt they weren’t good enough to be presented in public settings. He really didn’t know what kind of taste this manager had.

The two chatted about everything. Most of the time, Xiao Jingwen initiated the conversations, and Lin Congzhi would build upon them. For instance, if Xiao Jingwen sent him a painting and asked what he thought of it, Lin Congzhi would offer an objective, neutral critique, and then casually ask how much it was bought for.

Logically, this was a commercial secret, but Xiao Jingwen would secretly reveal a price range to him. While working on his graduation piece, Lin Congzhi often couldn’t reply promptly, so the two engaged in message-board-style conversations. Later, as deadlines neared and the campus art building remained open 24 hours a day, Lin Congzhi flipped his sleep schedule entirely, sometimes replying to Xiao Jingwen at three or four in the morning.

Xiao Jingwen, who usually went to bed early, would still be startled awake by the phone vibration to reply to him… Though the responses sometimes looked like a cat had walked across the keyboard, the gibberish sent from the chat box still allowed Lin Congzhi to read between the lines. For example: This auction house manager probably likes me.

Xiao Jingwen pursued him sincerely for a period of time, during which even working overtime made him happy. Because Lin Congzhi often stayed up late painting, Xiao Jingwen could use the excuse of “I just finished overtime and happened to be passing by, so I brought you some food” to come see him.

Food wasn’t allowed inside the art studio, so Lin Congzhi had him wait downstairs. Against the wall in the first-floor lobby sat a row of long benches; the two would sit there while Lin Congzhi ate the late-night snack he brought. This went on for several days in a row. Outside, heavy rain poured down, hot and humid, but occasionally a cool gust of wind would blow in, making one involuntarily take a greedy breath.

Lin Congzhi tried several times to transfer money to pay him back, but Xiao Jingwen refused to accept it. Having no choice, Lin Congzhi could only say he’d give him a discount whenever Xiao Jingwen bought his paintings in the future.

They naturally ended up together.

And later, they reasonably broke up. To this day, Lin Congzhi still remembered the details of their first major disagreement: Gleam had acquired a sculpture that even Xiao Jingwen deemed exceptionally fine, so he sent a picture of it to Lin Congzhi.

Because Lin Lingyu had graduated from the Sculpture Department, Lin Congzhi knew a thing or two about sculptures. He got extremely excited after seeing the photo and immediately asked Xiao Jingwen how much it was bought for. Naturally holding nothing back from him, Xiao Jingwen honestly quoted the figure.

Afterward, over the phone, Lin Congzhi paused for a moment. He asked why it was so low.

Xiao Jingwen said that unfortunately, the artist was unknown, so the starting price couldn’t be higher than works by established masters of the same category.

Lin Congzhi was puzzled—the piece was crafted even better than those masters’ works.

Then, Xiao Jingwen very patiently explained to him the intricate web of interest relationships involved. It wasn’t just about the reputation of the master or how their other works would be affected, but also involved collectors of the master’s works, the market price for similar pieces, and so forth.

Xiao Jingwen coaxed him again, telling him not to dwell on it, as the author had agreed to the starting price, so everyone was happy.

—That wasn’t true, as Lin Congzhi well understood.

If he himself painted something comparable to an industry master’s work, only to have its price pushed down due to various external factors… it wasn’t a matter of money, but a matter of how its value was measured.

After both of them returned home that day, they continued this topic. Lin Congzhi felt that Xiao Jingwen should respect the intrinsic worth of the artwork itself—whatever value it possessed, it should receive an equivalent valuation. Lin Congzhi explained artistic merit to him, while Xiao Jingwen analyzed market influence. In the end, Lin Congzhi lit a cigarette; though Xiao Jingwen was angry, he still brought him an ashtray.

Disagreements of this nature inevitably arose frequently, to the point where Xiao Jingwen would sometimes deliberately avoid the topic. Their respective professions remained connected in an less-than-ideal manner.

The Crown Prince and the Little Prince, the rose and the knight’s sword behind it, the canvas oil painting and the vanity fair. Later, Lin Congzhi took away the dehumidifier from the dorm; it hadn’t been resold to underclassmen as originally intended, but it was this aging machine that prompted a call for help on a rainy night five years later.

During the five years they were apart, Yuchen still had its annual rainy seasons, and even the daily news served as a reminder to Xiao Jingwen that another year had passed.

Later, he turned off weather push notifications and canceled his subscription to local news. But he couldn’t stop the plum rain season, nor could he put an end to the nightly memories.

Later, Lin Congzhi told his mother that he wanted to see the sea. His mother said sure, no problem, just stay safe. Lin Congzhi wanted to live for a while in a place without the kind of ‘sociality’ Xiao Jingwen talked about, and after much thought, he decided the ocean was a good place. His line of sight would have no boundaries and no high walls. However, Lin Congzhi didn’t find his answer on the cruise ship; instead, because a cruise ship was a place of high consumption, he became even more aware of the differences among the guests in each cabin class.

In truth, everyone understood that money brought different lifestyles and circumstances, and Lin Congzhi could clearly recognize how wonderful a life Lin Lingyu had provided him. But some things simply had to be experienced firsthand.

Five years later, he returned to Yuchen.

In the prime Central CBD, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, the man in the CEO’s office had a look of cold indifference between his brows. It seemed nothing in the world could spark his interest anymore, like a robot sitting there processing an endless stream of files. Every day, he sat blankly before the Mirror of Erised, unable to see himself, seeing only his own desires, with no one to guide him.

Until that student returned to Yuchen. He straightened his suit and tie, making himself look presentable and dignified, before going to meet him.

To this day, they still discussed differences in concepts. Unlike before, however, they began to view things with the mindset and perspective of onlookers. Lin Congzhi would offer an explanation, Xiao Jingwen would outline the stakes, and then both would nod sequentially, continuing to chat calmly and peacefully. In the end, differences would always exist; humans on this planet had never held a unified view on anything in all of history.

On this day, the plum rain season in Yuchen finally ended, kicking off days where one might ask, “Is there really only one sun in the sky?” The city returned to the sunlight, and citizens hauled out quilts and pillows to engage in retaliatory, sun-bleaching sterilization.

Inside the gallery exhibition hall, a couple was selecting paintings on the wall. Zhang Miao felt slightly guilty—these paintings were no different at all from the ones this couple had come to look at a month ago. Over the past month, her boss hadn’t painted a single piece, not even one the size of a phone screen.

Naturally, the couple noticed as well, and the three of them smiled at one another awkwardly.

Meanwhile, Lin Congzhi had just crawled out of bed when his WeChat received a barrage of roars from Zhang Miao: It’s been over a month! The official website isn’t updating with new works, and there’s nothing new to hang in the hall! What are you doing?! Are you letting the gallery go bankrupt naturally?! Let me tell you, that’s impossible! I am NOT going to work at a cutthroat company like Xiao Jingwen’s! If you can’t produce another painting, I’ll have Xiao Chen start forging your work to sell!!

Lin Congzhi rubbed his eyes and replied with two letters:

OK

The time was 10:40 AM. Logically, Xiao Jingwen should have already left for work by this time, yet the bedroom door was pushed open.

“Hmm?” Lin Congzhi looked at him in confusion. “You’re not working today?”

“Finished up and came back.” Xiao Jingwen unbuckled his wristwatch, took off his tie, and set them on the nightstand. Then he walked over to Lin Congzhi’s side of the bed, ruffled his hair, walked to the window, and pulled the curtains open with a swish.

Intense sunlight instantly illuminated the entire bedroom. Lin Congzhi let out a howl and ducked his head straight under the covers, cursing, “Woah, what the—Xiao Jingwen, do you have no consideration at all?! Opening the curtains under such a big sun?!”

“Come out,” Xiao Jingwen patted the blanket, saying helplessly. “Come out and catch some sun.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Be good. Sunbathing gives you calcium and Vitamin D.”

The disparity in physical strength caused things to spiral out of his control. The young, procrastinating gallery owner was forcibly carried out into the yard and placed on a swing, holding a cup and saucer, letting out a sigh.

Xiao Jingwen looked up and squinted his eyes at the indeed blazing sun, then turned his head to look at him, asking, “What are you sighing for?”

“I don’t like sunbathing,” Lin Congzhi said. “It feels like I have nowhere to hide.”

“…What kind of reason is that?” Xiao Jingwen burst out laughing. “Humans are phototactic animals; we need sunlight.”

Lin Congzhi took a sip of tea and added, “I have to get to work. I still have so many unfinished paintings.”

“Mm. So you’ve finally decided to get moving.”

“But I still have to go to Xin Jue’s place today to check on the students. Forget it, I’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

In the afternoon, Lin Congzhi drove to the art studio. It was interesting to note that Lin Congzhi’s driving skills were fully developed now—he could drive independently without Xiao Jingwen’s guidance. The problem was, he had mastered driving in that black Audi, so sitting in any other car felt off. Thus, Lin Congzhi didn’t buy another car and simply drove Xiao Jingwen’s Audi.

Upon arriving at the studio, as always, he first checked on the high school sophomores, then the juniors, and finally the repeating students, stopping right behind the repeaters.

“Wait a second,” Lin Congzhi said ominously behind a repeater student. “Establish the base coat first before looking for major spatial relationships—does a step like this really need to be pointed out to you?”

That was the thing about repeaters: they felt their skill level was high enough that they didn’t need to draw auxiliary lines in advance, or could even skip composition entirely. Thus, teaching high-level students wasn’t difficult in terms of technique, but rather in terms of discipline.

Fortunately, Lin Congzhi didn’t buy into their attitude. He just stood there, watching them block out shapes, identify spatial relationships, and outline light and shadow sources.

“Oh, right. A few years ago, didn’t that apprentice of yours set up her own shop?” During the break, Xin Jue smoked a cigarette with him in the hallway and asked, “I remember her skill level was pretty high. Where is she developing her career now? If her venture fails, she can come be a teacher here at my place.”

Lin Congzhi’s hand holding the cigarette trembled slightly as he said, “She… she’s doing pretty well.”

After Xiao Chen finished her apprenticeship, Lin Congzhi had cared about her career path. Xiao Chen’s ambition was to become an accomplished illustrator—taking commissions, doing book covers, illustrations, and the like. At the time, Lin Congzhi only understood the literal meaning: illustrations were needed for novels, magazines, and even textbooks, which was great.

Later, however, after Xiao Chen went independent, she indeed took commissions… but what she drew was all BL (Boy’s Love). Lin Congzhi had once clicked on Xiao Chen’s main page, which was quite lively, though he couldn’t quite understand the comments on her profile. For instance, in that online community, Xiao Chen was addressed as ‘Mi’ (kitty).

Lin Congzhi had also looked at Xiao Chen’s work, and the critique he offered was: You still need to pay attention to perspective. For example, if Character A is looking at Character B on the bed from this angle, the outer corner of Character B’s eye should tilt upward a bit more.

Xiao Chen had nodded and said, “Yes,” but then added, “But drooping the outer corner of the eye makes them look more pitiable. Lin-laoshi, didn’t you say that artworks can undergo appropriate artistic modifications?”

…Lin Congzhi decided to remain silent, reaching out to snap Xiao Chen’s laptop shut, refusing to look at the drawing any further. How terrifying—was that what he looked like in Xiao Jingwen’s field of vision when they were in bed…? He was immediately frightened by his own thought. No, no, no, don’t project yourself onto it, don’t mix real life with 2D.

The days flowed by one after another. Gleam’s growth speed and annual profit directly impacted Lin Congzhi’s painting progress: the more the auction house earned, the more Lin-laoshi slacked off. To what extent did he slack off? A new business partner saw that Xiao Jingwen was nearly 40 without anyone by his side, and having heard that Xiao-zong was interested in both men and women, arranged a strip show featuring both male and female dancers without Xiao Jingwen’s knowledge. Xiao Jingwen called the police on the spot.

After calling the police, he phoned Lin Congzhi, his voice wavering with grievance: “Wife, do you know what I just went through?!”

That incident dragged on quite late at the police station. Lin Congzhi stroked Xiao Jingwen’s hair, comforting him: “There, there, our Boss Xiao is still pure and spotless.”

At home, he was the pure and spotless Boss Xiao; outside, he remained the industry’s feared “Black-Faced King of Hell.” In the end, Hong Kong’s Carloan Auction House died out without a sound. Aside from an antique leather painting paper, Gleam did not acquire a single item from their collection. Eventually, the shareholders of that auction house were investigated one after another, sparking a wave of discussion in the industry before being forgotten a few days later.

Money laundering in auction houses was nothing unusual. After dirty money took a lap through an auction—transferring from the left hand to the right—even if a portion was lost, it ultimately became clean income. Over the years, Xiao Jingwen had assisted in investigations for quite a few money laundering cases. Having been in this industry for so long, he could tell at a glance what certain buyers and sellers were up to. Most of the time, to save trouble, he would directly decline them, though misjudgments were hard to avoid entirely.

During one investigation, Xiao Jingwen took a look at the suspect’s name and immediately flew into a rage, saying, “You guys used this painting to wash dirty money?! This is my wife’s painting!”

The officer was puzzled: “This painting… isn’t even drawn that well?”

Xiao Jingwen got even angrier, nearly jumping out of his seat: “This was painted by my wife in his sophomore year!”

Later, he bought it back anyway, only for Lin Congzhi to get mad at him afterward: “Couldn’t you just pretend you didn’t recognize it?! The background color of that painting was smudged into a total mess! Great, now everyone knows I painted it!”

Even later, the gallery finally updated with a new painting. Lin-laoshi touched up that old painting Xiao Jingwen had bought back… and hung it up, considering it an answer delivered to Zhang Miao.

Regarding this, Xiao Jingwen remarked that this Student Lin really hadn’t changed one bit.

That year, on their wedding anniversary, they returned to the city where they had registered their marriage. Once again, they escaped Yuchen’s plum rain season, arriving at a place on Earth blessed with abundant sunlight. Driving along Interstate 15 toward the West Coast from Las Vegas, the wind whipped the hems of their shirts. They drank iced beverages in a convertible while jet skis dashed across the ocean surface.

Lin Congzhi suddenly said, “By the way, do you remember a topic we once argued about?”

“Hmm?” Xiao Jingwen turned his head, pulling his sunglasses down a notch to look at him. “What topic?”

Xiao Jingwen was no longer as sensitive; whenever Lin Congzhi brought up key terms like that, he could comfortably continue the conversation.

Lin Congzhi said, “We talked about the symbolic meaning of different elements in paintings, which extended to the life circumstances and beliefs of the painters—just like how poets write poetry, where their works differ after being exiled.”

“Oh, yes,” Xiao Jingwen nodded. “I remember.”

“I read an article last night.” Lin Congzhi turned to look at him as well. Their seats were reclined slightly, and the car was parked by the roadside as the two lay back sunbathing. Lin Congzhi also pulled down his sunglasses, looking into his eyes earnestly, and said, “There was a unified meaning.”

Xiao Jingwen nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

Lin Congzhi: “All people on Earth, from ancient times to the present, have never shared a unified concept, except for—divinity.”

Xiao Jingwen showed a puzzled expression.

“Almost every painting depicting ‘gods’ features light around the god’s head.” Lin Congzhi finished speaking and chuckled. “Think back—Jesus, Buddha, Bodhisattvas; holy light, halo… Right? This point is actually globally unified.”

Xiao Jingwen pondered for a moment before coming to a sudden realization: “Indeed. And they are all circular halos of light.”

“Right?” Lin Congzhi laughed. “I realized it too when I read that article. Before that, I hadn’t even noticed this point.”

“This can be traced back to the Sun God, right?” Xiao Jingwen quickly caught up with his train of thought. “That goes back to ancient Egyptian times. Humans are indeed very unified when it comes to divinity.”

“There’s even Persian-style full-body flames,” Lin Congzhi added. “So there really is a sense of unity, isn’t there?”

“There is.” Xiao Jingwen knew what he was referring to.

Many things are only understood after they have passed—much like only gaining enlightenment on light and shadow expression after the art entrance exams were over.

This curious little discovery made Lin Congzhi feel quite happy. The issues between him and Xiao Jingwen had long ceased to be issues; even if some problems were only seen through and forgiven after many years, they no longer mattered in reality. Because a sufficient amount of love had filled all the divides.

The California coast sunburnt Lin Congzhi from his neck down to his shoulders, making taking a shower painfully agonizing as he howled under the running water inside the bathroom. Xiao Jingwen sighed, waiting for him to come out and dry off before helping him apply medicine.

While applying the ointment, Lin Congzhi said that Yuchen locals truly couldn’t handle intense sun exposure. Xiao Jingwen nodded in agreement, saying, “Indeed, let’s buy a sun umbrella tomorrow.”

California possessed warm sunshine and colorful shaved ice. Their vacation this time wasn’t very long; because Yuchen locals couldn’t handle the intense sun, they ultimately decided to head back and get a breath of the humid air. After arriving home, Lin Congzhi went to check on the condition of his oil paintings. Since they had returned unexpectedly, the housekeeper hadn’t been notified in advance to prepare dinner.

The two researched in the kitchen together to make dinner. Even though it was their own kitchen, there were many things they didn’t recognize. Xiao Jingwen inspected the oven, while Lin Congzhi rummaged through the refrigerator. Outside, heavy rain poured down. A small plot in the villa’s backyard was planted with vegetables by several housekeepers; because of the rainy season, it was covered with a waterproof tarp, upon which the rain pitter-pattered loudly.

The sound made Lin Congzhi let out a yawn.

With warm lights inside the kitchen and heavy rain outside, perhaps due to tears squeezed out by the yawn, Lin Congzhi suddenly felt a warmth that reached the bottom of his heart as he looked at the slightly blurry figure of Xiao Jingwen.

“What’s wrong?” Xiao Jingwen asked, noticing he wasn’t moving, and looked at him closely. “Why does it look like you’re about to cry?”

“I just yawned.” Lin Congzhi rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and smiled. “I’m sleepy. The sound of this rain is so hypnotic.”

“Then shall we just cook a simple bowl of noodles?” Xiao Jingwen pulled out a packet of seasoning from the cabinet.

Lin Congzhi nodded and said okay.

Occasionally, he would recall what Xiao Jingwen was like when they first met in university, when both of them were green and stubborn. He still remembered standing in the lobby downstairs at the academic building, rain falling outside, as he took bites of the burger Xiao Jingwen had bought for him. It was weather just like today’s—wind and rain.

As the two ate noodles at the dining table, Xiao Jingwen told him to be careful of the hot fried egg. He hummed in agreement, lifted it to blow on it, and bit into it.

Then he suddenly said, “Do you remember the fried eggs in the school cafeteria back then? The yolks were cold.”

Xiao Jingwen: “I remember. Semi-finished frozen food. And that Coca-Cola…”

“Sugar water with the color of Coca-Cola,” Lin Congzhi said with a laugh. “You actually drank it with relish back then.”

Xiao Jingwen: “Of course I did. I didn’t know your attitude toward your school back then, so I didn’t dare say anything reckless for fear of offending you.”

The next morning, the rain was still falling.

Xiao Jingwen had a meeting in the morning, so he got up early to get dressed and pack up. Normally at this hour, Lin Congzhi would still be asleep, and with Xiao Jingwen moving lightly, he wouldn’t be woken up.

For some reason today, Lin Congzhi woke up. Seeing Xiao Jingwen putting on his shirt by the bed, he felt as if he had traveled back many years, saying sleepily, “It’s raining heavily, remember to bring an umbrella.”

“Okay.” Xiao Jingwen came over and kissed his forehead.