Chapter 20: Your Lifework Is About to Turn to Ash
Hearing this, Shen Yunheng was momentarily stunned. His lips curled into a soft, tender smile. For a moment, he seemed to see the carefree, untamed young painter from years ago.
He tucked away the oil painting as if it were a precious treasure and took a step closer to Jian An. He asked:
“The theme of the art competition is quite broad. Do you have any inspiration yet, Xiao An? How should this ‘Beauty’ be defined?”
Jian An pursed his thin lips, looking down in thought for a few seconds. He spoke in a calm voice:
“I don’t have any inspiration yet. However, everyone’s definition of beauty is different. Creating a piece that can resonate with people’s senses and emotions will be quite difficult.”
The other man looked at him and encouraged, “There’s still time before the competition starts. I believe you can do it, Xiao An!”
Jian An was momentarily dazed. This feeling of being trusted after so long was subtle. A warm current flowed into his heart, making it feel as if it were drifting in spring water.
He nodded to the man with a smile. Suddenly, he thought of something, and his calm expression turned into one of panic. He said:
“Oh, right. I should head back. It’s not good to stay out too late. Yunheng, please take me home quickly.”
Having finally gotten a chance to be alone together, Shen Yunheng had wanted to walk with him through the flower fields for a while longer, but the other man had jumped into the car before he could speak.
Is he afraid Ji Songting will be unhappy?
But that man clearly doesn’t care about him at all. Why bother about the feelings of someone who doesn’t love you?
Shen Yunheng felt that Jian An was truly too foolish.
As night began to fall, a Maybach was parked at the villaās entrance, its black body almost blending into the darkness.
Jian An saw it at first glance.
That was the car Ji Songting usually drove. Why hadn’t it been put in the garage today? Was he back?
Standing outside the door, Jian An couldn’t help but feel an irrepressible surge of nervousness, mixed with a hazy joy.
The door wasn’t locked either; clearly, the man was home.
Clutching the cardboard box, he used one hand to gently turn the doorknob and then tiptoed inside.
In the dim living room, there was no light or person, creating a dead, silent atmosphere.
Is he upstairs…?
Jian An felt his heartbeat quicken as he turned on the lights to go upstairs in the dark.
The bedroom door wasn’t closed, and a faint yellow light shone from inside. He stopped in his tracks.
He had clearly closed the door when he left. Who had opened it? Was someone inside?
Jian An gripped the box tightly, walking slowly to the door. When he saw the person inside, he was suddenly at a loss. He spoke tentatively:
“Songting… why are you in my room?”
Hearing his voice, Ji Songting threw the painting in his hand back to its place. His eyes were immediately shrouded in darkness, and his voice carried a simmering rage:
“You still have the face to come back?”
The other man walked in, confused. He set the box on the floor, his eyes darting away as he asked:
“What’s wrong?”
“Who were you out with? Shen Yunheng?”
Ji Songting pulled over a chair and sat down, crossing his legs and tapping his finger on his knee. His contemptuous gaze fell on the silent person. He said with interest:
“Oh? Not speaking? Then it was him.”
Jian An picked at his fingers nervously, trying his best to explain: “Songting, listen to me. We just happened to run into each other on the road, and then we talked about the art competition.”
“Art competition? You want to participate too?”
A trace of surprise flashed in Ji Songtingās eyes, followed by a surge of intense irony:
“A coincidence? It was a planned date, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t…”
Ji Songting suddenly stood up to face him. His eyes looked as though they were coated in frostācold, heartless, and radiating an inviolable authority. He said word by word:
“The reason I made you resign was to make you stay away from art completely. Because you aren’t worthy. You, Jian An, are an ugly stain. How can you be worthy of tainting art? Besides, my mother is dead. How can you continue in this profession with a clear conscience?”
“Songting, you…”
A strong sense of humiliation surged in his heart. Those cruel words were like a bolt from the blue. Jian Anās face turned deathly pale in an instant. He began to tremble, shaking his head as he bit his lip.
He stared blankly at that handsome yet heartless face, his heart so painful he couldn’t say a single word.
Without realizing it, the tears he had been holding back began to fall.
That little bit of hope he had finally reclaimed was shattered into foam in an instant.
The man pressed forward, grabbing his collar with one hand. His bloodshot eyes were as red as a ghost’s.
“You should know perfectly well how my mother died and why you killed her, shouldn’t you? Itās because she didn’t give you the only chance to study abroadāso you held a grudge against her!”
The next second, Ji Songting pushed him away forcefully, saying coldly: “Now, forget about studying abroadāyou won’t even be allowed to touch a single paintbrush or a single sheet of paper!”
From that push, Jian An lost his balance and fell to the floor. His back struck the bookshelf, and several heavy books fell directly onto his head.
He felt dizzy, and his eyes lost all spirit. His disheveled hair made him look even more wretched.
Ji Songtingās gaze was cold as he spared him a glance, then he called his assistant:
“Bring two bodyguards to the villa.”
Yang Rui was confused, but he could only obey.
Not long after, the assistant brought the bodyguards upstairs.
When he saw the room in a mess and the despondent Jian An, his eyes widened in shock. He stammered:
“Ji… Ji-zong, what are you doing?”
Good heavens, what is this inhuman CEO of theirs going crazy over now?!
Ji Songting rubbed his temples and said, “Take all the paintings in this room and throw them into the empty space in the backyard.”
Yang Rui scratched his head and nudged the two tall bodyguards. “Oh, oh, oh… quick, go move them.”
Hearing this, Jian An snapped his head up. He scrambled to his feet, spreading his thin arms to block the paintings that meant so much to him. He pleaded in a weak voice:
“No… these are the most precious things I’ve had since I was a child. They are my pride and my lifework. I beg you… don’t take them away. Don’t…”
The two bodyguards looked at each other, feeling a bit hesitant.
“What are you waiting for? Move them!”
The man by the window gave the command, and they didn’t dare delay any longer. They easily pulled the youth away.
Jian Anās skeletal frame was no match for the bodyguards. He turned and knelt before the man, his scarred hands trembling as they grabbed his trouser leg. He sobbed:
“Songting, I was wrong. I was really wrong… I won’t go anywhere else from now on, and I won’t touch painting again. Can you please not throw them away? This is all I have left…”
“Wrong? Young Master Jian, youāre quite funny.”
Ji Songting leaned down and pinched his jaw, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Unfortunately, itās too late. Your lifework… is about to turn into ash.”
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