“Cough…” Lin Congzhi was suffocated by the sweetness. “Cough, cough, cough, cough…”

In that brief moment when their eyes met, Xiao Jingwen had imagined countless possibilities. He thought Lin Congzhi might feel embarrassed or pretend to stay calm, but he never expected him to be choked by the intense sweetness and start coughing.

He hurriedly stood up, walked over, and patted his back: “Hold on a second, I’ll go to the counter and get a glass of water.”

After chugging down several mouthfuls of ice water, Lin Congzhi finally recovered and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He then looked at the cake that was already one-third eaten by Xiao Jingwen, and then at the finished pink drink, marveling: “I didn’t expect your taste to become so weird after not seeing you for a few years.”

“…” Xiao Jingwen wanted to explain, but it seemed there was nothing to explain. After all, he had indeed eaten and drunk all of it.

In reality, he hadn’t changed. He still didn’t eat sweets, he still lived alone, and he was still busy every day navigating the business world surrounded by wolves. The fake Tang zither that had made his name five years ago was still hanging in his house. Compared to the Maybach Pullman Guard, he still preferred driving the Volkswagen Touareg that was connected to his phone’s Bluetooth.

He had never changed.

Lin Congzhi had recovered. Once he caught his breath, even the waiter breathed a sigh of relief—people in the food and beverage industry feared this kind of commotion the most.

Xiao Jingwen sat back down and looked at the bio he had written:

At this moment, the moon is 370,000 kilometers away from me. The sea at 03:30 AM is in the world’s night mode—nothing can be seen except the waning crescent moon. Right now, it is the only light on the sea, and there are still 17 days until the next full moon.

The bio was uploaded to the item catalog. The moment it finished uploading, his assistant’s message popped up on the other side, confirming receipt.

Xiao Jingwen packed up his laptop. The task was done, and it was time for him to leave. Lin Congzhi also stood up holding his unfinished coffee. With not much to say between them, they left the coffee shop together.

It was rare to have such bright sunshine in Yuchen. The owner of the mini-mart across the street moved two dog houses to the front door to bask in the sun; two Golden Retrievers were guarding their houses, also soaking up the sunlight.

Lin Congzhi looked across the street, recalling Zhang Miao’s reminder to air out his quilts today, because according to Yuchen’s weather patterns in previous years, once these two sunny days passed, it would be all rain. However, he had forgotten, so he let out a soft sigh.

Xiao Jingwen thought he was sighing because of Yu Shijing, so he offered a word of comfort: “Xiao Yu might just be temporarily stuck in his head. After all, he’s been repeating for four years, so he’s just hitting a dead end.”

Lin Congzhi nodded to show he understood.

“So, don’t… don’t look so down.” Xiao Jingwen stuttered slightly.

“I can’t help it,” Lin Congzhi said. “With such great sunshine, how could I forget to air out my quilts? Even the dog houses are brought out to dry.”

Oh, he was fretting over this.

Xiao Jingwen felt a lump in his throat for a moment.

Perhaps because the weather was so nice today, the pedestrians on the sidewalk slowed their steps a bit to absorb the rare sunshine. Hearing his reply, Xiao Jingwen chuckled first: “Tomorrow will be sunny too. Air them out tomorrow.”

“That works,” Lin Congzhi said.

Xiao Jingwen hailed a ride on his phone: “Five minutes. Wait with me for the car?”

“Sure.” He nodded. There was nothing to avoid; saying it was inconvenient would actually be strange. Lin Congzhi asked again: “Didn’t drive?”

“No, it’s hard to park around here,” Xiao Jingwen answered.

Lin Congzhi thought it made sense. Lately, his desire to buy a car had grown increasingly faint. Urban transportation was convenient, and parking spaces were hard to find, plus it was impossible for him to hire a driver. Thinking of this, he looked at Xiao Jingwen again—could the dignified President Xiao not have a driver?

“By the way.” Xiao Jingwen interrupted his thoughts, taking out a silver-gray invitation from his laptop bag. “I forgot to give you the auction invitation card. Do you need to bring a guest?”

“Is it mandatory to go?” Lin Congzhi asked.

“Not mandatory,” Xiao Jingwen said. “Since you’ve opened a gallery, to put it bluntly, you’ve accumulated enough mystery out at sea over the past five years. Showing your face at the auction now is always a good thing.”

After saying that, Xiao Jingwen’s hand holding the invitation tightened slightly, and his throat grew tight. If these words were spoken five years ago, it would definitely trigger an argument.

However, Lin Congzhi scratched his head and smiled slightly: “I’ll think about it.”

He added another line: “You don’t need to be so sensitive; those words aren’t harsh.”

Xiao Jingwen swallowed and gave a soft “Mm.”

Lin Congzhi accepted the invitation: “Besides, you’re not wrong either. Even though I didn’t mean to play mystery over the past five years, I was still captured by others as marketing material—things like ‘The Seaborne Oil Painter Who Never Disembarks.’ Heaven knows, I stayed in Seville for almost a month.”

“There’s no way around it; that’s just how the internet is nowadays.” Seeing him open the invitation, Xiao Jingwen said, “The invitation is for one person only. If you want to bring another guest, I still have a blank one here that you can fill out yourself then.”

Lin Congzhi didn’t look up: “Did you give one to Zhang Miao?”

“Miss Zhang’s has already been given.”

“Then there’s no one else to bring.”

The expression between Xiao Jingwen’s brows visibly relaxed quite a bit: “Alright. If the gallery needs any help, you can contact me.”

“Ah, it’s nothing really. You know our line of work—we don’t open for three years, but when we do, we feast for… for…” Lin Congzhi couldn’t make up the lie anymore, “Feast for three weeks.”

Xiao Jingwen burst out laughing: “You’re quite candid.”

Lin Congzhi didn’t care. The ice cubes in his coffee cup had melted a bit under the sun, clinking around and diluting the coffee: “There’s nothing to hide. I’m not afraid of losing face.”

“How is it losing face? Didn’t your piece get selected for bidding anyway?” Xiao Jingwen looked down the street and said, “It seems to be that car.”

“Wait a moment,” Lin Congzhi said. “The things I told Xiao Yu just now—were they… contradictory to my past self?”

“No,” Xiao Jingwen answered very decisively. “Different situations, different circumstances. You were doing it for his own good.”

“You were doing it for my own good back then too.”

“I wasn’t,” Xiao Jingwen said. “I also thought I was doing it for your own good, but my behavior was trying to change you, whereas your behavior was helping him get into the fine arts academy.”

“Then do you think I’ve changed now?” He still cared a lot about what he had said.

“Of course not,” Xiao Jingwen said without hesitation. “Just the same as before.”

The ride-hailing car stopped by the roadside. Xiao Jingwen walked over and said, “I’m off then. Thanks for waiting with me for the car.”

Lin Congzhi smiled and waved his hand: “See you at the auction.”

Xiao Jingwen froze for a second, then nodded: “See you at the auction.”

Lin Congzhi reopened the invitation. The contents inside were handwritten—in Xiao Jingwen’s handwriting. This man had a fine hand of calligraphy. As a second-generation corporate heir, he had to learn these things from a young age, so that when he inherited his father’s business in the future, his signature on documents wouldn’t look like chicken scratches.

Cordially invites Mr. Lin Congzhi… Signed by Xiao Jingwen.

The corners of his lips curved up in a smile. He closed it, turned around, and went back upstairs to the studio.

Afterward, it was indeed one day of bright sunshine, followed immediately by a solid week of rain. Light rain, moderate rain, thunderstorms, and torrential downpours. Lin Congzhi didn’t have the habit of checking the weather forecast. Because out on a ship, wind and rain didn’t matter, and inside the gallery, it was the same—he always had a fixed place to shelter from the elements.

On rainy days, the humidity was high and the paint turned thin, requiring mixing inside the paint box. Lin Congzhi still remembered that back when his painting skills weren’t refined, he would buy cheap paint. Located in the south, whenever the Plum Rains season hit Yuchen, a small puddle of water would float to the surface of those cheap paints, which had to be dabbed away with a paper towel first.

Today was the same. As the continuous rain reached its third day, the dehumidifiers in the storeroom were humming steadily.

The gallery wasn’t far from the sea, so the moisture in the air was very heavy. When Lin Congzhi woke up in the morning, he felt his bed was damp, as if he had sweated half a pound last night and slept wrapped in a blanket all night. It was very uncomfortable and sticky. Whenever this feeling appeared in previous years, he knew the Plum Rains season had arrived.

The tiles in the bathroom were sweating fine drops of water, dense and packed together; the shower stall looked even more like a glass fish tank. Taking a shower in such humid and muggy weather was always useless—not long after washing up, his body would start feeling sticky again.

Xiao Chen was his apprentice who had joined at the same time as Zhang Miao. The two of them were looking pitifully at Lin Congzhi, who had just come downstairs.

Lin Congzhi was surprised: “Don’t you two have a car and an umbrella?”

Dripping water hung from the tips of both their hair.

Zhang Miao sighed: “I don’t know what happened today, but there wasn’t a single parking space along this entire street. I had to walk all the way over from the intersection.”

Xiao Chen said: “My umbrella was flipped inside out by the wind.”

“…” Lin Congzhi sighed, “How about you guys come back to work when the weather gets better?”

Encountering such a boss was truly rare, so much so that Xiao Chen felt it was ‘impossible, absolutely impossible’ for such a boss to exist. Thus, she asked tentatively: “Teacher, do you mean Miao-miao and I are fired?”

Lin Congzhi: “Huh?”

The next day. Lin Congzhi was upstairs cleaning the storeroom by himself.

The rain was even heavier than yesterday, with humidity at 90%. The two dehumidifiers at Lin Congzhi’s place were struggling to keep up. He was alone in the storeroom, uncovering oil paintings to check their condition. Oil paintings would absorb moisture, and having not returned to Yuchen for five years, he had almost forgotten how lethal this city was during the Plum Rains season.

Storing oil paintings required moisture protection. Lin Congzhi had seen improperly stored oil paintings grow mold due to a lack of maintenance after absorbing moisture.

Working while listening to the sound of rain was very comfortable. Moreover, the gloomy environment on a rainy day, lacking the sun as a reference point, made one oblivious to the passage of time. Lin Congzhi checked them one by one, and sure enough, he found one in a worrisome state.

This painting was created about 300 nautical miles after departing from the Western Australian port. At that time, it had suddenly started raining at sea. They were in a light rain area, but because there were no obstructions on the ocean, one could see the distant rainstorm within visual range. This painting depicted those distant black clouds and falling rain.

Lin Congzhi pulled it out. This painting had been placed against the wall, which carried heavy moisture. Sure enough, feeling the canvas, it showed slight warping—just like how fingertips get wrinkled after being soaked in water for too long.

Continuing like this was certainly not an option. The Plum Rains season was far too damp; a bag of popcorn opened in the morning would turn soft by the afternoon. Let alone oil paintings, if this went on for a few more days, even the wooden frames of the paintings might warp.

He struggled for about three minutes, then called Xiao Jingwen.

The other side picked up, asking softly: “What’s wrong?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“It’s fine.” Xiao Jingwen looked back into the conference room through the glass wall and glass doors. He had left more than ten managers behind to step out and take the call. “Go ahead.”

Lin Congzhi said: “Is there still room in your company’s temperature- and humidity-controlled warehouse? The dehumidifiers on my end aren’t doing much good.”

Xiao Jingwen answered: “I’m not clear about the warehouse situation. I’ll ask my secretary today. If there’s no room on my end, I’ll help you contact an art museum.”

That made sense. Lin Congzhi pursed his lips; as an executive director, he wouldn’t know the warehouse inside out either. But squatting there on the floor, facing the ocean rainstorm painting leaning against the display rack, he still said: “The condition of my painting here is quite… urgent. The canvas is almost starting to bulge.”

“How about this,” Xiao Jingwen said. “I’ll head over to your place as soon as my meeting finishes. Even if there’s no space in the warehouse, my building at least has a fresh air system, so the humidity should be more ideal than at your place.”

Lin Congzhi: “Okay, okay… Wait? You’re in a meeting?”

“Mm.”

“…” Lin Congzhi licked his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Xiao Jingwen said. “Your matter is more important.”