Sun Rain Chapter 5
byBefore parting, the two walked down the steps outside the exhibition hall. Jiang Xue took the opportunity to advise him further: “From an outsider’s perspective, I still suggest you tell him those things. It’s better to resolve them than to live with misunderstandings.”
Shi Meng paused on the steps.
“There is no evidence, and no one will believe me.”
“But whether he believes it is up to him, whether you tell him is up to you…”
“I don’t want to.” Half of Shi Meng’s face was hidden in his hood, his back view lonely and stubborn. “If there is even a slight chance he won’t believe me, I won’t say anything.”
Jiang Xue sighed helplessly and followed him. “Fine. You have integrity and moral fortitude; truly worthy of an artist.” Changing the subject, she pulled a card from her bag. “An invitation to the Oriental Hotel banquet on Friday. Everyone there is in the industry. We hope the artist will grace us with his presence.”
Shi Meng glanced sideways, rejection written clearly in his eyes.
“This is a weekday,” Jiang Xue said, feigning severity. “I’ve pushed back everything that could be pushed. You are not allowed to refuse necessary social engagements.”
After struggling in silence for a while, Shi Meng finally took a hand out of his pocket and reluctantly accepted the invitation.
Friday arrived quickly. During the interim, Shi Meng had been holed up in his home studio, sketching the composition for his new work and setting the subject and main color palette. When Jiang Xue called that morning to remind him, he was still a bit dazed and had nearly forgotten the event.
After lunch, Shi Meng left the house. Jiang Xue personally drove to pick him up, taking him to the mall to choose an outfit before heading to the hotel.
“You are an art student, yet your fashion sense is this terrible.” Jiang Xue asked the cashier for a paper bag, crumpled Shi Meng’s own clothes into a ball, and stuffed them inside. “It’s unbelievable.”
Shi Meng offered no comment regarding this aesthetic “attack.” Just before entering the hotel, he glanced at his reflection in the transparent floor-to-ceiling window—tall and slender, wearing simple ankle boots and trousers topped with a white shirt and a Klein blue suit jacket. The color highlighted the whiteness of his exposed neck. His hair fell past his earlobes, long untended but not messy.
Just as he was about to see his face clearly, Shi Meng pulled his gaze away, refusing to look higher.
Jiang Xue was extremely satisfied with her “masterpiece.” Upon entering the banquet hall, she dragged Shi Meng around, introducing him to curators, critics, and investors from various industries. Whenever they received praise, she would smile and add, “Our Shi Meng’s paintings, like the man himself, are beautiful without being ostentatious. Every line is a stroke of divine inspiration.”
During a break in the socializing, Shi Meng finally had a chance to speak: “Sister Xue, that’s too exaggerated.”
Jiang Xue glared at him. “It’s advertising, isn’t it? Three parts genuine skill, seven parts hype. Look at the one by the stage, calling herself a ‘Beauty Painter.’ I finally managed to get you out today, and it’s precisely to open their eyes and show them how the word ‘beauty’ is truly written.”
Unable to argue with her, Shi Meng grabbed a plate and quietly ate whenever he couldn’t interject.
Fu Xuanliao arrived halfway through the banquet.
When he received the blue and gold invitation card two days ago, his first reaction was also to refuse. “They are all people in the art world. Why should I participate in this gathering?”
“Didn’t you study painting when you were a kid?” Gao Lecheng said matter-of-factly.
“I studied for less than a week, total, throughout my childhood,” Fu Xuanliao frowned. “The smell of paint still makes me sick.”
Gao Lecheng chuckled. “Then why do you always look for partners who paint?”
Fu Xuanliao shot him a sidelong glance, and the other man immediately fell silent.
After a moment, Gao Lecheng picked up the invitation that had been tossed onto the table and sighed. “It’s fine if you don’t go, but it’s a shame. I heard they are auctioning off Shi Mu’s painting… what was it called? The one that was bought a long time ago. Apparently, the collector’s company went bankrupt and they are selling off assets to cover the debts.”
And so, Fu Xuanliao appeared here. The painting he had been prevented from keeping years ago due to various obstacles—he was determined to obtain it today.
For this reason, he endured the tedious suffering of the first half of the banquet. After being toasted by yet another stranger eager to strike up a conversation, he greeted Gao Lecheng and retreated to an empty corner. He leaned against the window, arms crossed, observing the various people under the magnificent crystal chandeliers.
Including Shi Meng, who was dressed in clothes he had never seen before and looked quite conspicuous.
When that flash of blue first caught his eye, Fu Xuanliao thought he had seen wrong. But upon closer inspection, his gaze held a hint of sarcasm.
He had previously heard that this rising star in the oil painting world was extremely aloof and never participated in social events. Now, it seemed that wasn’t entirely true.
Shi Meng followed quietly behind his agent, behaving so well that he could be described as “docile.” Who would have thought that this was the same person who had gone mad and bitten someone just a few days ago, leaving teeth marks that hadn’t faded yet?
Shi Meng was clearly unaware of how many eyes were watching him. Hiding behind Jiang Xue, he took advantage of their heated conversation to turn and grab a small cake, placing it on his plate. He cut it with a fork and delivered it to his mouth piece by piece.
He took very small bites and chewed slowly. From a distance, you could barely see his cheeks moving. His gaze was fixed intently on the food, exactly as it was when he painted.
He remembered Shi Meng being like this as a child: always eating with his mouth closed, his movements small and quiet, as if he were afraid of dropping crumbs and being scolded, or perhaps it was an instinctive sense of cherishing the food.
Perhaps he was too idle. Fu Xuanliao watched him finish the cake, thinking to himself that given Shi Meng’s current means and status, no one at home would dare let him go hungry. He glanced at the glass window and realized that his lips had curved into a faint smile without him noticing.
Fu Xuanliao instantly dropped the smile, his expression turning extremely grim. He quickly averted his gaze, then turned and walked toward the terrace next to the stairwell, needing a moment in the breeze to calm down.
Still, they had been together for so long. It wasn’t surprising that if the other person could figure out his preferences over the years, he, too, would subconsciously learn the other’s habits.
Fu Xuanliao let out a long breath, feeling much better.
The terrace on this floor was large. Past the dividing flowerbed in the middle, it connected to a short corridor on the other side.
There were many guests at the banquet today, and occasionally, drunk people would step out to catch the breeze and sober up, or chat briefly in pairs. Just as Fu Xuanliao was about to return inside, he unexpectedly heard his name mentioned in the reckless chatter coming from the other end.
“Young Master Fu is here too, did you see him?”
“The one by the bar just now? Is that Fu Xuanliao?”
“Yes, broad shoulders and long legs, like a model. Lots of people are trying to talk to him.”
“He is handsome… you haven’t fallen for him, have you?”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t stand a chance. He belongs to Young Master Shi.”
“The Shi family? Do you mean the one I know?”
“Which other Shi family could it be? The scandal back then was huge; the Fu family and the Shi family almost tore each other apart.”
“Which year? Was that when I was abroad? Tell me about it quickly.”
Fu Xuanliao was forced to listen to a mouthful of gossip about himself. It was impossible to say he felt nothing, but hearing it from strangers now, after so much time had passed, made him momentarily feel detached, as if he were an outsider watching an absurd and ridiculous comedy sketch.
The gossips kept their voices low, making the conversation intermittent and unclear. Fu Xuanliao filled in the blanks in his mind, completing the context. Afterward, he felt disgusted with himself for remembering such shameful, old history so clearly after all this time.
To avoid making noise and being mistaken for an eavesdropper, he decided to wait until the two finished talking before leaving. Unexpectedly, they got carried away and used the topic to start discussing Shi Meng.
“Speaking of which, the other protagonist is here today too.”
“You mean that bastard of the Shi family? Is he the painter who was just introduced in the hall?”
“Painter, my foot. Everyone knows he’s the son of a prostitute; the Shi family wouldn’t even let his mother through the door.”
“No wonder, he looks like a fox spirit too.”
“I heard he once stole someone else’s painting to enter a competition and almost won an award.”
“Ah, that bad?”
“And that person was his half-brother, the real Young Master Shi…”
Just as the name was about to be revealed, the indoor lights flared brightly, making the marble floor of the terrace glare with reflection. After the applause, the host, speaking clearly and precisely into the microphone, announced: “The auction officially begins. We now present the first item for bidding: the oil painting by the late artist Shi Mu—’Flame’.”
All eyes in the room were drawn to the stage. Fu Xuanliao stepped closer, looking over the crowd at the painting he hadn’t seen in years; he almost thought he was dreaming. Shi Meng, witnessing the painting see the light of day again, instinctively closed his eyes.
It wasn’t the painting’s intense colors that stung him; he was simply afraid. Terribly afraid. Just hearing the name of the painting made his heart tremble, and his body felt as if it had been cut open and placed in the center of the hall, receiving scorn and abuse from all directions.
The host dutifully introduced the piece—the brushwork was natural and meticulous, the artistry unique, expressing intense emotion through soft strokes… It was as if all the most beautiful words in the world were being used to describe this painting.
The artist also received the highest praise. At least, the surrounding conversations reminded Shi Meng of the triumphant expression on that person’s pale face.
Next came the auction segment. The noise below the stage swelled, a sickening clamor.
Shi Meng told Jiang Xue he wanted to step outside for some air. As he pushed through the bustling crowd and was about to move away, a familiar voice rang out beside his ear.
“One million.”
Accompanied by a sharp ringing in his ears, Shi Meng looked up. Fu Xuanliao, who had just raised his paddle to bid, stood outside the crowd, his expression solemn, like a steadfast guardian. His gaze was fixed intently on the painting, unwilling to move away for even a moment.
No one had expected that a cocktail party intended for networking would turn into a fiercely competitive struggle.
Experts look for the skill, while laymen look for the excitement. In this setting of clinking glasses, there were clearly more onlookers than genuine industry professionals. Therefore, when the bidding for the painting titled ‘Flame’ reached three million, the room fell silent, and everyone was stunned.
Some people were already secretly speculating whether the painting benefited from the artist being deceased, much like Van Gogh’s works, which were ignored during his lifetime but became famous after his death.
“Four million.”
The immediate follow-up bid seemed to confirm this speculation. Everyone looked over; the bidder was the painter named Shi, who had just been about to leave.
Some informed guests began to whisper:
“Didn’t his half-brother paint that?”
“I didn’t realize they had such a good relationship.”
“Look at who the other bidder is.”
“Hiss, a love triangle…”
Fu Xuanliao acted as if he hadn’t heard anything, focused solely on acquiring the painting. “Five million,” he bid.
The moment his voice fell silent, the clear voice from the other side followed without hesitation: “Five million five hundred thousand.”
Gasps of astonishment rose and fell throughout the room. After all, it was rare and suspicious for a painting not created by a famous master to fetch such a high price.
Turning his head, Fu Xuanliao’s eyes were like fire, concealing burning anger and confusion, which was not extinguished even when they met that icy blue figure. He gritted his teeth, raised his paddle, and said in a deep voice, “Six million.”
“Six million five hundred thousand,” Shi Meng followed again.
“Seven million.”
Once the bidding entered the mid-to-high seven figures, the atmosphere in the room gradually solidified into a tense deadlock. Everyone felt their hairs stand on end, nervously participating in this sudden, fierce battle.
Among them, only Shi Meng remained calm throughout. The Klein blue, a color symbolizing infinity, strangely took on a melancholic quality on him. His movements when raising the paddle were mechanical, like a pre-programmed sequence.
The struggle brought him no pleasure; for him, the painting was merely proof that he absolutely had to possess.
Sensing the sharp gaze directed at him, Shi Meng raised his eyes to meet Fu Xuanliao’s. He held his paddle high, his lips parting slowly and deliberately: “Ten million.”
A few minutes later, the first painting of the auction successfully sold for the high price of ten million. The auction house manager, grinning widely as he calculated the commission, ushered Shi Meng into the backstage reception room as if he were a god of wealth.
The staff went to prepare the contract, leaving only Shi Meng and Jiang Xue in the room.
“I think you’ve lost your mind,” Jiang Xue said, heartbroken, having failed to stop Shi Meng despite her best efforts. “You didn’t tell me you planned to spend money today. Do you even have that much liquid capital available?”
Shi Meng leaned against the wall, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He seemed utterly exhausted, and he closed his eyes, saying softly, “Yes.”
Jiang Xue sighed in relief, but was still speechless. “Even if you have the money, this isn’t how you spend it. Besides, that painting clearly belongs to you…”
Before she could finish, the door to the reception room burst open with a bang. A tall man strode in like a gust of wind, grabbed Shi Meng’s wrist, yanked him up, and started pulling him outside without a word.
Shi Meng was already weak all over, and he was dragged along, stumbling and bumping into things. As he was pulled into a dark room, he heard Jiang Xue shouting anxiously behind him, followed by the violent slam of the door, and finally the sound of the deadbolt turning. The world instantly fell silent.
“Why?” Before Shi Meng could speak, Fu Xuanliao demanded first. “Shi Meng, why?”
His voice was low, accompanied by ragged breathing, as if he were forcibly suppressing his rage to give the person before him a chance to explain.
However, Shi Meng didn’t feel there was anything to explain. He stumbled two steps, steadied himself, took a deep breath, and feigned ignorance, asking in return, “Why am I wearing a shirt?”
Because the person you like always loves wearing shirts.
“Does it not look good on me?”
Fu Xuanliao had no patience for his banter. He said hoarsely, “I asked why you tried to snatch that painting from me.”
Shi Meng pulled his lips into a mocking smile. “No reason. I wanted it, so I took it.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a rush of air hit his face. When he was grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall, Shi Meng only had time for a muffled groan before the intense pain swallowed his consciousness.
Although the two of them were always at loggerheads, and even their lovemaking was like a struggle between wild beasts, this was the first time Fu Xuanliao had choked him with potentially lethal force.
Driven by the instinct for survival, Shi Meng clung to Fu Xuanliao’s arm, struggling desperately. Unfortunately, the public bidding war had exhausted his strength, and now his struggles were futile.
“Shi Meng.” His name was ground out viciously between Fu Xuanliao’s teeth. Fu Xuanliao’s eyes were wide with fury, veins bulging on his arm. “You lunatic! You madman who has to steal everything!”
He must be truly angry, Shi Meng thought. Will he kill me? Perhaps he has wanted to kill me for a long time.
As the air supply dwindled, his breathing became faint, and a dying, hoarse sound escaped his throat.
It was like falling into a desolate void, where the sky and earth merged into a vast expanse of white, and there was nothing but the sharp wind rushing past his ears.
Only the desire for possession was carved into his very bones, an instinct as primal as the will to survive.
“My… thing,” fragmented words escaped Shi Meng’s throat. “It is… mine.”
In a daze, a childish voice echoed in his ear: “Your painting is so beautiful.” Why won’t you praise my painting now?
Fu Xuanliao, dominated by fury, did not know Shi Meng’s thoughts. He simply held fast to his life source, gritting his teeth and telling him word by word: “You. Will. Not.”
He used his last thread of vision to stare at the man before him. Shi Meng didn’t even realize he was smiling—a smile that was manic and desolate. His trembling fingertips reached out to touch the face so close to him, brushing over the sharp contours. Reflected in his rapidly dilating pupils was the image of Fu Xuanliao hating him. Even though he could no longer see clearly, even though no one acknowledged it, Shi Meng stubbornly kept his eyes wide open and declared to the gods in the void: “Mine… You are mine too.”