Chapter 51: At Your Service

The air in the studio was heavy with the unique scent of linseed oil and turpentine.

Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting long, slanted beams of dancing dust onto the wooden floor.

Minazuki Ruri set down the brush, which was still dipped in wet cobalt blue, and leaned back slightly against her chair.

Her cobalt blue eyes quietly stared at the nearly finished canvas before her.

On the canvas was the profile of a young girl.

It was not realistic, but rather composed of bold blocks of color and flowing lines, hovering somewhere between the abstract and the concrete.

The girl had short, inky black hair, which the artist had treated to look as if the shimmering light of the night sky was flowing through it.

Her gaze looked toward a void outside the painting, containing a complex mixture—a cowardly softness, an enduring resilience, and a trace of longing that seemed as if it could shatter at any moment.

The background was a chaotic warm tone, yet cold white space and sharp lines were deliberately left around her, like invisible restraints or barriers.

“It seems your inspiration, which has been away for quite some time, has finally decided to return, Miss.”

Steward Xu approached silently, gently placing a cup of tea at the perfect temperature on the side table next to the easel.

His gaze swept over the canvas, and a glimmer of understanding flashed in his aged but clear eyes.

He had served the Minazuki family for many years and had watched Ruri grow up.

He could capture a trace of unusual focus, perhaps even… tenderness, beneath those wild brushstrokes.

Ruri did not respond immediately; her gaze remained glued to the eyes of the person in the painting.

After a long while, she picked up the teacup, her fingertips feeling the warmth of the porcelain as she took a gentle sip.

The rising steam from the black tea temporarily blurred her vision.

“Steward Xu,” she spoke suddenly, her voice very light, as if afraid of disturbing the person in the painting or some string in her own heart.

“At your service, Miss,” Steward Xu replied, bowing slightly.

His attitude was respectful and quiet, like a perfect listener.

Ruri moved her gaze away from the canvas and looked at the garden treetops outside, dyed golden by the setting sun.

Her tone held a near-lost inquiry.

“Have you ever… truly… fallen ‘in love’ with someone before?”

She weighed her words carefully.

The word ‘love’ felt a bit awkward as she said it, as if she were tasting a strange and dangerous term.

“Not the kind of love for art or beauty. But… for another living person. The kind that makes you feel they are special, so special that it leaves you flustered, yet you can’t help but want to get closer, to… understand, even want to ‘possess’ them.”

Steward Xu was silent for a moment, a distant look of memory appearing on his face, which was marked by the traces of time.

“‘Love’…” he repeated slowly, his voice calm.

“That is a very complex emotion, Miss.”

“It is like the most precious wine. It might be sweet and intoxicating when first tasted, but the years in the cellar, the timing of the opening, and even the mood when drinking it will cause its flavor to change in a thousand ways. It might even turn into sour vinegar that is hard to swallow.”

“In my youth, I once thought I understood what ‘love’ was, but later I realized it might have just been an illusion born from the moonlight being too beautiful or myself being too lonely.”

He did not answer directly whether he had or hadn’t, but gave an answer filled with metaphors.

Ruri turned her head, her deep blue eyes quietly looking at him.

“An illusion…”

Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the warm side of the cup.

“Then what if you clearly know it might be an illusion? A projection based on a specific situation or even rooted in your own lack… like a painter facing a blank canvas, desperately needing a model to carry their overflowing inspiration, only to mistakenly take that inspiration for feelings for the model herself…”

“If you know this, yet you still can’t get rid of that feeling of ‘wanting’? Even… feeling… anxious because that ‘illusion’ might belong to someone else, or the ‘illusion’ itself might disappear?”

Steward Xu’s gaze once again swept over the portrait of the dark-haired girl on the canvas, the clarity in his eyes deepening.

“Then perhaps, it is no longer just ‘love,’ but closer to an ‘obsession,’ Miss,” he said slowly.

“Obsession is more powerful than love, and more dangerous. It can give birth to the most beautiful art, but it can also brew the most bitter poison. The key lies in whether the person holding the brush wants to depict the subject’s true self, or merely wants to paint her into the image they desire.”

He paused and added, “And, whether one is prepared to bear all the consequences that come with it… including the possibility of knocking over the palette and ruining the entire painting.”

Ruri did not speak for a long time.

Silence returned to the studio, save for the occasional cry of a bird returning to its nest outside.

She turned her gaze back to the canvas, where the girl’s eyes still ‘looked’ at her with that complex expression.

After a while, Ruri murmured almost to herself, “Bear the consequences…”

A faint curve appeared at the corner of her mouth.

As she placed the unfinished tea back on the tray, Ruri’s fingertips unconsciously and gently brushed against the girl’s cheek on the canvas.

The movement itself was incredibly gentle, as if stroking a rare treasure that was easily broken, or as if confirming whether a vague phantom truly existed.

At the moment her fingertips touched the slightly cool paint—

As if a switch had been flipped by this action, or perhaps the scent of the wet cobalt blue mixed with the turpentine formed a unique medium leading to the depths of memory…

Ruri involuntarily closed her eyes tightly.

An image—no, a complete memory with sound, scent, and temperature—like a school of deep-sea fish being startled, suddenly broke through the fog of consciousness and surged into her mind irresistibly.

***

It was Sunday night, on the empty rooftop of the concert hall.

The wind in the memory carried the slight chill of night dew and the distant clamor of the city, brushing against her hair and skirt.

The rooftop of the concert hall was empty and silent, as if the entire world had receded beyond the dazzling sea of lights at their feet, leaving this space of tranquility just for the two of them.

On the deep blue velvet canopy of the sky, sparse but bright stars were scattered, twinkling quietly as if creating a wonderful and aloof atmosphere for this unfinished private conversation.

In the air, there seemed to be a lingering faint fragrance and the passionate warmth from the grand performance that had just ended in the concert hall below.

She remembered she was wearing a vintage dress carefully chosen for the performance, its hem gently stirred by the wind.

Standing before her was Su Yuqing, still wearing the manager’s suit that was a bit disheveled from running in a hurry, her face carrying lingering exhaustion and a daze born from the sudden invitation.

“So~”

In the memory, she must have been smiling.

Ruri was all too familiar with that kind of smile; it carried a bit of carelessness and the detachment of an artist, but only she knew that beneath that smile, her heart rate was slightly different from usual.

She tilted her head slightly, her deep blue eyes reflecting the starlight and the distant neon lights, flickering with some kind of expectation as she looked at Su Yuqing.

Her tone was relaxed, yet she threw out that key question: “Are we… ‘back together’ now?”

“Back together…?”

In the memory, Su Yuqing seemed to be gently bumped by this direct question.

She subconsciously lowered her head while whispering the word.

The night wind blew the fine strands of hair across her forehead, making her expression unclear.

But in that repeated tone, there was no immediate denial, nor was there a surprised confirmation.

There was only a silence as if she were struggling to digest the meaning of the word.

The rooftop lights cast a small shadow on her lowered eyelashes.

The waiting time was stretched by the silence, every second feeling magnified.

Ruri remembered she had held her breath, her gaze tightly locked on the other person, not letting go of any subtle change on her face.

She could hear the sound of her own blood flowing, feel the slight chill of the night wind on her skin, and smell the scent belonging to Su Yuqing in the air—a mixture of sweat and cosmetics.

It was a reality within reach.

Then, she saw Su Yuqing’s shoulder line relax slightly.

Her lowered head began to rise, extremely slowly, as if carrying a weight of a thousand pounds.

Those eyes, always filled with exhaustion and complex emotions, were slowly meeting her own gaze.

Her lips parted slightly, as if some words were struggling to take shape in her throat, about to break through that membrane called ‘hesitation’—

When a sharp electronic ring, completely out of place with the current quiet atmosphere, exploded without warning!

Like an invisible ice pick, it ruthlessly pierced through the tranquil barrier the rooftop had managed to create.

It was the phone in Su Yuqing’s pocket vibrating.

Su Yuqing’s body stiffened visibly, and the gaze that was about to meet Ruri’s suddenly scattered, replaced by a nearly reflexive panic and helplessness.

She almost scrambled to pull out her phone, not even having time to look at the caller ID before pressing the answer button.

She turned away, pressing the phone tightly against her ear.

The next second, even across several steps, even though Su Yuqing deliberately lowered her voice, Ruri still clearly caught the voice leaking from the receiver.

It was sweet yet carried an unquestionable arrogance and command.

“Hello? We agreed on a celebration banquet after the performance. Where on earth did you suddenly disappear to, meow?! My patience is limited! Ten minutes! I’ll give you ten minutes! If you don’t immediately, right now, show up in front of me to report — “

The voice dragged out its tone, carrying a cat-and-mouse-like playfulness and a bone-chilling threat.

“Then I’ll fire you, this incompetent excuse for a manager, meow! I’ll replace you with Sister Sakura, who’s always been obedient! Do you… understand… meow?!”

The roar from the other end of the phone was clearly audible even through the receiver, echoing slightly on the empty rooftop.

Su Yuqing’s face turned pale in that instant, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip on the phone.

She opened her mouth, seeming as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, all her words were annihilated in a resigned exhaustion.

She didn’t even utter a complete defense or plea; she only took a very slight breath.

Then, she hung up the phone.

Her movements were a bit slow, a bit stiff.

She turned back around to face Ruri.

The faint trace of hope that had been on her face moments ago was now completely gone, replaced by a rush to escape and an unhideable messiness and apology in the depths of her eyes.

“Well then,” Su Yuqing’s voice was dry.

Avoiding Ruri’s gaze, she spoke quickly.

“I’ll… leave first. The company… has some urgent business.”

She did not even have the courage to repeat the question about ‘getting back together,’ nor did she explain the phone call.

She only gave a pale, weak excuse.

She paused, seeming as if she wanted to say more.

Her lips moved slightly, but in the end, it only turned into a farewell that seemed as if it could scatter in the wind at any moment.

“See you… next time, Ruri.”

There was not much expectation in her tone; it sounded more like a helpless courtesy.

Ruri stood in place, not moving.

The night wind made her skirt snap loudly, but it could not blow away the coldness that suddenly surged in her heart.

She watched Su Yuqing turn hurriedly, her back almost running toward the rooftop exit.

That figure looked thin and rushed in the dim light, and was soon swallowed by the shadow of the security door.

She remembered that at the time, toward the empty exit, toward the door that had swallowed Su Yuqing, she had responded softly in a voice so calm it did not have a single ripple.

“Okay. Then, see you next time.”

There was no anger, no questioning, and no attempt to make her stay.

It even sounded like there was a perfect amount of understanding and indifference.

***

In the art studio, the last line of daylight was finally swallowed by the night.

Steward Xu had quietly withdrawn at some point and considerately turned on a warm yellow floor lamp.

The light softly illuminated the easel and the girl’s eyes on the canvas, which seemed to carry a thousand words.

Ruri slowly opened her eyes.

Her long eyelashes cast faint shadows under her eyelids.

Her fingertips still gently rested on the canvas, on Su Yuqing’s cheek.

The touch was still gentle.

But her gaze was completely different from before she closed her eyes to reminisce.

She stared into the eyes of the person in the painting, as if through the two-dimensional portrait, she saw that back fleeing in panic on the rooftop.

After a long time, a strange curve quietly climbed the corner of her mouth.

She withdrew her hand from the canvas, her fingertips still seeming to retain the rough texture of the linen and the cool touch of the paint.

Then, in a voice only she could hear, she spoke that name one word at a time.

There was no longer any of the previous confusion or tenderness in that voice; only the calm and determination of an artist examining a work they were about to complete, mixed with a sense of possessiveness and absolute control.

“Su. Yu. Qing.”

The girl in the painting still ‘looked’ at her with those complex eyes…