Chapter 24: Utopia’s Redemption
“That’s more like it. Come on, eat.”
Chen Ma nodded in relief. She took his wrist and carefully placed the bowl filled with rice and side dishes in his hand, then handed him the chopsticks.
“Thank you…”
Jian An held the bowl with trembling hands. His skeletal arm and the porcelain bowl looked exceptionally out of place.
Unexpectedly, the other person didn’t accept his thanks. The rare bit of kindness in her eyes vanished as she scolded:
“You and your stubborn-as-a-mule temper. If you really want to thank me, then pay me back for the medicine. And don’t tell Ji-zong I bought it for you. This old woman still wants to work for a few more years.”
“I understand, Chen Ma. But I will definitely pay you back! I’m just penniless right now. Once I find a job, I will pay you back double!”
Perhaps it was the desire to survive, or the thought of doing something while his body was still healthy, but Jian An forced himself to endure the churning pain in his stomach. He stuffed the food into his mouth bite by bite and swallowed it with difficulty.
Both of his cheeks were stuffed full, almost making him choke. But for the first time in his heart, he felt that this bowl of rice was more fragrant and more reassuring than anything he had eaten in these three years.
Chen Ma watched him finish the food, then took out the medicine from the plastic bag one by one and laid them on the bed.
She gently took Jian An’s hand and placed it on the medicine boxes, instructing him in detail:
“Take three tablets from this flat rectangular box. Take two pills from the bottle without packaging. Take one pill from the bottle with the outer shell. Put two drops of eye medicine in. Shake it before use to make sure it’s the right one. Three times a day—morning, noon, and night. Do you understand?”
“I understand, Chen Ma. Thank you…”
The youth with the gaunt face said his thanks incoherently, tears in his eyes, but his gaze was empty.
“Fine. Stop thanking me. I don’t want to have anything to do with you; it’s too easy to invite trouble.”
Chen Ma furrowed her brows helplessly, a look of blame on her face. Then she took the bowl and chopsticks from him and pushed the door open to leave.
There was no boiled water in the room. Jian An carefully leaned against the wall to reach the bathroom. He took a cup of tap water and swallowed the medicine with it.
The cold feeling slid down his throat and chilled his heart. The ethereal sound of water dripping in the sink echoed in his ears. He slowly sat down with his back against the wall, his hands tightly hugging his knees.
In his daze, he seemed to see his own shadow, gradually enlarged, distorted, and torn apart by the darkness, enduring everything alone and helpless. His burning soul had long since lost its clamor.
In the past, he had often lived in the illusion he had built for himself, stubbornly believing that as long as he could stay by his beloved’s side, in time, everything he deserved would come to him.
Only now did he understand that marrying someone who didn’t love him would never bring happiness.
He didn’t know how long he sat there before he stood up numbly and fumbled his way back to the bedroom.
He took out pigments, paintbrushes, and a long-cherished oil canvas from a hidden compartment in the nightstand.
Fortunately, he had hidden some before, so they weren’t all taken away by Ji Songting.
Just now, he had found inspiration for the competition.
Outside the window was a cold night. In the damp air, there was a faint sadness.
The canvas was taped to the glass window. The blind youth stood at the window with his pigments, a brush in his hand. The night wind gently brushed the soft hair on his forehead.
With every stroke he sketched, the dark emotions surging deep in his heart were also integrated an inch at a time. The beautiful and happy things in the illusion fell into redemption, shrouded in lies and sin.
The mottled light and shadow projected the texture of the oil painting. Every pore of the contrast between light and dark breathed sadness.
On the portrait, misty clouds and fog faintly covered the sky. The solemn and majestic church carried a hint of eerie mystery. On one visible wall hung many black crosses turned upside down.
A fair and beautiful Greek youth was dressed in a gold-trimmed formal suit. His light blue eyes were as elegant and gentle as the thin midnight sky.
He reached out his right hand toward the statue of God, his gaze devout. God’s left hand also reached toward him.
But the covered shadow of God had horns.
It looked like the light of redemption, yet also like falling ash.
Beside the youth stood a Godfather holding a Bible and a praying nun. On the cuffs of their long robes were sewn several black-textured butterflies.
The overall oil painting contained multiple factors and multiple tones. An optimistic painting style and melancholic artistic beauty coexisted.
He was blind, yet he had painted the most astonishing colors in this world.
The next day, Chen Ma still delivered the food on time. When she saw that Jian An could still paint calmly despite being blind, she was shocked for a long time but didn’t go forward to disturb him.
Day after day, Jian An completely immersed himself in the world of the portrait, day and night, unable to extricate himself.
In the early hours of the third day, he finally finished the last stroke. After gently placing the painting into the frame, he also gave it a name: Utopia’s Redemption.
Putting down the brush, Jian An collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up again, it was the morning of the fourth day.
The ceiling faintly appeared before his eyes and then gradually became clear.
The sudden light was a bit piercing, and his eyes hurt intensely. Jian An raised his hand to cover his eyes and blinked several times before he finally managed to open them completely.
He sat up in disbelief, looking down and repeatedly examining his real arm. The torment of every day and night finally found a bit of relief at this moment.
He could see again!
In those eyes that were somewhat sunken but very beautiful, bright and excited light now flickered.
Jian An hurriedly climbed out of bed. He stood in front of the bedroom door uneasily, then silently turned the doorknob.
Just when he thought the door was still locked, the bolt suddenly made a light sound, and then the door actually opened slowly!
Was Ji Songting going to let him out?
Jian An didn’t hesitate at all. He pushed open the door and walked out of the bedroom where he had been imprisoned for several days.
He had originally planned to borrow some money from Zhou Manxiang to pay Chen Ma back. But as he walked, he couldn’t help but go to the front of Ji Songting’s room.
Was that man still in the villa right now?
And the bedroom door wasn’t closed either.
He quietly leaned against the doorframe, peeking half a head in, looking inside nervously.
The room was empty; Ji Songting wasn’t there.
But the drawing board set up on the floor by the window caught his attention.
From what he knew of the man after all this time, although Ji Songting had some interest in art, he had never personally painted anything. What was with the oil painting on the drawing board?
Because his eyes had just recovered, Jian An couldn’t see what the content of the painting was. It just vaguely looked like the outline of a person, and it was still an unfinished product.
Narrowing his eyes to gaze for a while, the more he looked, the more he felt that the oil painting by the window was inexplicably familiar.
The hesitation and struggle in his heart held him back, but ultimately curiosity took the initiative.
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