PTBLSI chapter 16

 

Qi Xi was still standing at the door, gripping the doorknob, frozen in place. Fu Yanchuan didn’t say anything. After hesitating for a while, he said, “But I just got a commission, and I haven’t started drawing yet. Wait two weeks for me—once I get the payment, I’ll treat you.”

Through the receiver, Fu Yanchuan gave a barely audible chuckle as he replied, “I’ll take you first. When you have money, then you can treat me.”

“Okay!”

Qi Xi agreed without thinking. Fu Yanchuan said, “I’ll take you once I’ve arranged everything.”

Qi Xi was full of anticipation, but after that, a whole week passed and Fu Yanchuan didn’t come back. During that time, he didn’t return at all. Qi Xi started to wonder if Fu Yanchuan had been kidnapped or if he had lied about everything and no longer wanted him as a stand-in.

Another day passed like this. He finally made it through class again. Just as he went downstairs, he heard a familiar, uncomfortable voice.

“Finally, I waited for you! Little Qi Xi.”

He scanned the crowd of students leaving class warily. President Bai suddenly appeared in his line of sight and walked straight toward him.

He put his backpack down, gripping it tightly, ready to swing it over his shoulder as soon as the person got close.

President Bai had learned from experience. Seeing the backpack in Qi Xi’s hand, he stopped one meter away and tried to look friendly. “Don’t get excited. Don’t be nervous. I’m really not the kind of person you’re thinking of!”

Qi Xi didn’t believe him and tried to go around him. President Bai hurriedly took out a business card. “Qi Xi, wait! I admire your paintings, and I’d like to get to know you. My name is Bai Peiyong. I’m the owner of the Jianshan Art Museum.”

Hearing the name of the Museum, Qi Xi stopped. In Huo City, Jianshan Art Museum was relatively well known. He had even visited it before.

But when Qi Xi looked Bai Peiyong up and down, he couldn’t see how he looked like an art Museum owner.

Bai Peiyong said, “It’s normal for you to look at me like that. Yes, I’m a hooligan scumbag, but I really am the owner of the Jianshan Art Museum. Do you know the Jianshan Art Museum? This is my business card—please take a look!”

Keeping a one-meter distance, Qi Xi reached out and took the business card from Bai Peiyong’s hand. It did say “Jianshan Art Museum,” but fake business cards weren’t rare either.

He glanced at Bai Peiyong, tore up the card in front of him, and handed the pieces back. “Our school doesn’t allow littering.”

Bai Peiyong held the torn pieces of the business card in his hand as he watched Qi Xi turn around and leave. Zhou Yuxuan had told him that Qi Xi wasn’t very bright, but he felt that Qi Xi was clearly very sharp.

At the police station, he hadn’t lied. He had really seen Qi Xi’s paintings online and admired them. The account avatar was a real photo, so he took a look at that as well and admired it, too.

However, his comments online didn’t receive a reply, so he asked others to inquire. Unexpectedly, his cousin knew Qi Xi’s classmate, Zhou Yuxuan. That was how Zhou Yuxuan tricked Qi Xi into meeting him.

He hadn’t expected Zhou Yuxuan to trick Qi Xi either. Before meeting Qi Xi, he admitted that he was only interested in his paintings. However, once Qi Xi stood in front of him, he realized that the avatar photo had made Qi Xi look ordinary. In real life, Qi Xi looked exactly like Bai Peiyong’s type, so his old problem flared up again.

Seeing Qi Xi walk away, he chased after him and walked beside him, saying, “Qi Xi, I really admire your paintings. Are you interested in collaborating with me? Really… hey, don’t run!”

Qi Xi ran all the way out of the school gate. When he saw the car that was there to pick him up, he hurriedly got in. Only after feeling safe did he roll down the window and tell Bai Peiyong, who had chased after him, “Don’t come looking for me again. The things you said won’t fool me. If I see you again, I’ll report you to the police!”

Watching the car drive away, Bai Peiyong felt speechless and helpless. When painting reaches the level of true talent, there are no techniques at all. Qi Xi’s paintings felt completely natural. There was no rule explaining why each stroke and color existed, yet they felt essential. At a single glance, they were full of infinite tension and extremely impactful.

Looking at the car disappear into the distance, he didn’t want to give up. He opened Qi Xi’s YI Station account, where he shared his work. There was an email address for commissions. Since comments were ignored, he sent a commission request to that email directly. Unexpectedly, he received a reply immediately.

Inside the car, the driver asked Qi Xi, “Young Master Qi, was that person giving you trouble just now? Do you need me to tell President Fu?”

Mentioning Fu Yanchuan made Qi Xi think again about how he hadn’t come back for several days. Worried that Fu Yanchuan didn’t want him as a stand-in anymore, Qi Xi couldn’t help but ask, “Uncle Yan, is Brother Yan very busy? Does he have many homes? Does he have many stand-ins? Does he move around a lot?”

The driver’s expression froze. He didn’t know whether to comment on Qi Xi’s imagination or his boldness in saying it out loud. In any case, he didn’t dare answer on Fu Yanchuan’s behalf. He could only say, “President Fu is quite busy. When he has time, he’ll come look for you.”

“I’m not waiting for him.”

Qi Xi immediately took out his phone and dialed Fu Yanchuan’s number. It rang twice, then was hung up. Just as he was about to angrily talk to Fu Yanchuan about the signed contract, Fu Yanchuan—who had never sent him a message before—actually sent him one.

[I’m in a meeting.]

Qi Xi smiled and generously replied.

[Then, go ahead with your meeting. Call me when it’s over.]

But Fu Yanchuan didn’t call him. He went back and had dinner, hesitating about whether to call him again. He was afraid that Fu Yanchuan’s meeting still wasn’t over.

Just as he couldn’t decide, Brother Zha sent him a message about a new commission. He replied with difficulty.

[But I haven’t finished the one I’m working on now. When does he want the final draft? I’m afraid I won’t make it. I’m drawing until after midnight every day, and I’m dozing off in class.]

[Even if you don’t doze off, would you be able to understand it? You still won’t understand it anyway! Making money isn’t easy in the first place. Your drawings are just so-so to begin with. Did you get a slightly bigger commission and start floating? Do you think you can pick and choose jobs now?]

[I didn’t! I’m not!]

[Brother Zha, don’t be angry. I’ll try to draw faster. I won’t delay things.]

[Good that you understand. You need to have a clear understanding of your own level. There are plenty of amazing artists out there. Someone with no talent like you can only rely on diligence. Work hard! Don’t get cocky just because you landed a slightly bigger job. Isn’t it all because I promoted you?]

[Yes, thank you, Brother Zha! I’ll go draw right now.]

Qi Xi put down his phone and forgot about Fu Yanchuan. The easel in his room hadn’t been put away in days. Luckily, the housekeeper came to clean every day; otherwise, the room would probably be covered in paint.

When Fu Yanchuan entered the house, it was past midnight. He noticed that the light in Qi Xi’s room was still on and that the door was ajar, letting light spill out into the hallway.

He took off his coat, lightened his steps, and walked over. He pushed the door open and saw the easel by the floor-to-ceiling window. There was a mat underneath it. Qi Xi was curled up into a ball, sleeping with the orange cat on the small mat.

He hesitated for a moment, then went in anyway. He squatted down and softly called, “Qi Xi.” Qi Xi hummed unhappily, grabbed his hand, and used it as a pillow under his head.

He stared at Qi Xi’s face for a moment, then picked him up and put him on the bed. The orange cat immediately followed, continuing to sleep beside Qi Xi. He pulled the blanket over them. His gaze landed on Qi Xi’s paint-covered clothes, hands, and face.

He sighed, went to the bathroom, wrung out a warm towel, and wiped Qi Xi’s face and hands. At first, Qi Xi was cooperative, but some of the paint had dried. When he wiped a little harder, Qi Xi stopped cooperating.

He held down Qi Xi’s restless hands, leaned down, pinched his chin, and carefully wiped the paint off, saying with little amusement, “I’ve never done this kind of thing for someone else before. What are you dissatisfied with?”

Suddenly, Qi Xi opened his mouth and bit down, catching one of his fingers. He pinched Qi Xi’s chin, pulled his finger out, and left two shallow rows of teeth marks. He frowned. “Why do you like biting people so much?”

More than ten minutes later, Fu Yanchuan finally finished cleaning Qi Xi’s painted face. He even helped him take off the paint-stained sweater—only to find that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

His gaze involuntarily stopped on the two small red dots, and he wondered if dressing like this would be uncomfortable.

After hesitating for a while, he got Qi Xi’s pajamas, put them on him roughly, and covered him with the blanket.

“Brother Yan?”

At that moment, Qi Xi opened his eyes, grabbed his hand, and rested it under his face. He squinted, smiled drowsily at him.

“You’re finally back. I missed you.”

Fu Yanchuan sat down on the bed, bracing his other hand by Qi Xi’s ear, and leaned closer.

Qi Xi’s warm breath brushed against his lips. Looking carefully into Qi Xi’s eyes, he noticed a small mole at the corner of his left eye. It was usually hidden beneath thick eyelashes and not easy to notice.

He gently brushed aside the lashes and carefully touched the mole. Qi Xi, completely unaware, rubbed his face into his palm.

The warm touch tickled his palm. He had never been a gentleman. His fingertips slid from the corner of Qi Xi’s eye, down his cheek and chin, and finally to his slender pale neck.

He gently rubbed Qi Xi’s Adam’s apple with his fingertip and lowered his head toward Qi Xi’s lips.

“So itchy.”

Qi Xi suddenly pulled his neck back, letting out a soft, indistinct laugh.

“Qi Xi.”

Fu Yanchuan called softly and realized that Qi Xi had fallen asleep again—or perhaps he hadn’t woken up at all.

He chuckled, released Qi Xi, stood up, and carefully tucked in the blanket. As he got up to turn off the light, he noticed the painting on the easel. His gaze unconsciously fixed on it.

He had never studied painting, but he had studied various forms of art appreciation. Qi Xi’s paintings were filled with a kind of freedom and vitality. Whether the subject matter or the brushstrokes, they carried a loose, unrestrained sense of following one’s impulses—an extremely rare and unique style.

Beyond the painting itself, however, he also felt an indescribable stir, as if something in Qi Xi’s painting had opened a door in his heart. In that moment, he found a deep inner resonance in Qi Xi’s painting.

 

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