He Yuzhou now had an impression.
So that was the time he first saw Cen Yingshuang.
Chen Yanli’s mother, Ye Mingzhu, was also a very famous painter.
She had a large studio in Italy, and after marrying Chen Yanli’s father, she moved both her life and work to Hong Kong.
After finishing his studies in Italy, Chen Yanli inherited Ye Mingzhu’s studio.
Last year, He Yuzhou happened to be on a business trip to Italy.
After finishing his work, he planned to have a meal with Chen Yanli.
At that time, He Yuzhou knew that Chen Yanli was actually at a low point.
He hadn’t had any inspiration for a long time and couldn’t paint anything.
He didn’t leave his house for days, just holed up in the studio drinking and smoking away the days.
Who would’ve thought that, this time, when he pushed open the door to Chen Yanli’s studio, it wasn’t the suffocating mess he’d imagined.
The spacious studio was bright and tidy.
The walls were covered with paintings, and even though many paintings were scattered on the floor, there was a sense of order amid the chaos.
There was a huge canvas leaning against the wall.
Chen Yanli stood in front of it, painting, his clothes covered in paint.
He still looked quite disheveled, his medium-length hair tied up messily, his face haggard and tired, with dark circles under his eyes.
His expression was serious, but his gaze was unusually passionate and excited.
He Yuzhou walked in, but Chen Yanli didn’t get distracted at all—not even lifting his eyelids.
He Yuzhou didn’t step forward to disturb him, instead leisurely appreciating the paintings in the studio.
There were both landscapes and portraits.
But He Yuzhou noticed that all the portraits were of the same person.
A young girl who seemed quite small.
In the paintings, she appeared in countless different poses.
There was a profile with a gentle smile, one where she sat quietly in a daze, one where she lay on the sofa sleeping peacefully…
He Yuzhou quickly glanced through them until he walked over to stand beside Chen Yanli, and saw the painting Chen Yanli was currently working on.
In the painting, the girl wore a floral dress, her hair in two braids, standing barefoot in the garden, watering the flowers while biting into a red apple.
She turned her head, her smile brighter than the flowers.
Finally, Chen Yanli put down his brush and titled the painting.
In Italian: [Ragazzina]
Translated into Chinese—[Young girl]
She was indeed a young girl. Anyone could tell at a glance that she was very young, probably about the same age as He Yuzhou’s younger sister.
Chen Yanli set down his brush, staring intently at the painting as he let out a long sigh.
The tension from before vanished. He fished out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled out two, and handed one to He Yuzhou.
He Yuzhou took it, held it between his lips, and bent his head slightly, waiting for Chen Yanli to offer a light.
“How is it?”
Chen Yanli asked, with a tone of seeking advice.
Chen Yanli’s style belonged to Impressionism, with bold and vivid colors, daring yet delicate, mastering the subtle play of light reflected on various surfaces.
Take this painting for example: sunlight filters through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on her floral dress and the red apple in her hand.
Under the spray of the garden hose, a rainbow appears.
The fusion of Realism and Impressionism made the vitality in the painting feel both real and vibrant.
It had to be said, of all the paintings in the studio, this one was the most unforgettable for He Yuzhou.
“Name your price.”
He Yuzhou took a drag, smoke curling as the nicotine filled his mouth. While exhaling, he glanced sideways at Chen Yanli, “Sell it to me?”
No need for more words; He Yuzhou’s attitude already proved the painting’s success.
“To have you make an offer is really a rare honor,” Chen Yanli laughed.
He Yuzhou had a hobby of collecting paintings and an exceptionally discerning eye for art.
He looked a bit smug, “Priceless. Not for sale.”
Chen Yanli had painted quite a few women, but no matter who it was, he’d only paint them once.
But this young girl filled almost his entire studio.
He Yuzhou didn’t press further, simply shrugged indifferently. He continued to gaze at the painting before him, teasing, “All these years of not dating, and now you’ve changed your taste? You like this type? Young girls?”
The meaning behind He Yuzhou’s “like” was obvious.
Chen Yanli didn’t answer immediately.
He silently took a drag of his cigarette, then only said, “She is my Muse.”
He avoided the question, his words carrying deeper meaning.
After that, none of Chen Yanli’s paintings of Cen Yingshuang were ever shown to the public.
At the time, He Yuzhou clearly wasn’t interested in Chen Yanli’s private love life or true thoughts, and replied offhandedly, “Alright, Muse.”
But now.
The Muse Chen Yanli spoke of was right before He Yuzhou’s eyes, and had even appeared in his dreams less than half a month ago.
Back then, he truly couldn’t control himself; the unfamiliar feeling left him at a loss.
But he didn’t think much of it.
After calming down, he didn’t consider it anything special, and his busy work life soon pushed the episode out of his mind.
Yet he never expected that she would appear before him again in this way.
That familiar sense of losing control swept over him once more.
Once could be ignored, but nothing should happen again and again.
He finally realized something was wrong with himself.
“This commercial was shot on your island.”
Chen Yanli’s voice pulled He Yuzhou’s drifting thoughts back.
“Really?” His tone was bland, as if he didn’t care at all.
He Yuzhou’s attitude seemed as though he was completely unaware.
Chen Yanli didn’t think much of it either, since he knew a bit about the friendship between He Yuzhou’s mother and the brand.
It was just an island—his mother had full authority over it.
“She even saw your mineral pigment painting.”
Chen Yanli chatted casually, “She praised your work and asked me if you were a famous painter.”
He Yuzhou still replied with just two words: “Is that so?”
But this time, beneath his seemingly casual response, there was a hidden depth.
His gaze remained fixed on the flashing billboard.
The wine in Chen Yanli’s glass was still unfinished.
He took a small sip and savored it. Given He Yuzhou’s concise attitude, Chen Yanli naturally assumed he wasn’t interested in the topic.
After all, Chen Yanli knew He Yuzhou’s temperament well.
He Yuzhou had no interest in women or romance.
He still remembered last year when He Yuzhou came to the studio, saw the paintings of Cen Yingshuang, and asked him if he liked that type.
He didn’t answer directly, instead tossing the question back, “What about you? You’ve been single for 28 years. When are you planning to start a relationship?”
He Yuzhou chuckled, tapping his cigarette in the ashtray, looking rather roguish: “There are far more interesting things in this world than romance.”
He Yuzhou grew up in a happy family.
His parents were deeply in love, and their feelings hadn’t changed in decades, but he didn’t care at all whether he could ever have a soul-stirring romance of his own.
Back in school, he played when he wanted, rebelled when he wanted.
After starting work, he could quickly slip into the right state, and his professional abilities were in no way inferior to his father, He Jingsheng.
To him, there were indeed many things more interesting than love.
To see the Aurora at the ends of the earth in Antarctica, he spent a fortune building his own custom expedition yacht, able to reach any corner of the world.
He was captivated by mineral pigment painting by chance and, despite his busy work, squeezed out time to self-study until he mastered it.
He pursued perfection to the point that he insisted on personally going into the mountains to mine for natural pigments that satisfied him.
He Yuzhou liked to do many things. Omniscient and omnipotent, he was as free as the wind.
His powerful background gave him the capital to do as he pleased.
Anything he wanted to do, he could do.
Anything he wanted to get, he could get.
He had always lived for himself, freely and wholeheartedly pleasing only himself.
Naturally, he would not be interested in so-called Muses or matters concerning a young girl, so Chen Yanli smoothly changed the subject, asking, “When are you going back to Hong Kong?”
“Originally planned for tomorrow.”
He Yuzhou poured himself another glass of wine.
Compared to Chen Yanli’s slow savoring, he drank more like he was wolfing it down, impatient.
He added meaningfully, “But now something’s happened that’s changed my plans.”
He stared straight ahead, not even blinking.
***
Cen Yingshuang’s short vacation was over, and she was once again swept up in a whirlwind of schedules.
But she’d already arranged with Jiang Suian to celebrate their birthdays together at the end of the month, so she counted down the days, thinking that being busy was actually a good thing—it made time fly.
Very soon, it would be her birthday.
Her first event after the break was to go to Italy to attend the Spring Summer Haute Couture Show for the perfume brand she endorsed.
On the way to the airport, she passed the largest commercial street in Beicheng, lined with luxury brand stores.
The brand she endorsed had the most eye-catching, luxurious logo, full of grandeur.
Above the logo was a huge screen.
Her endorsed perfume had launched yesterday.
Yesterday, as she passed by, she saw her perfume commercial playing on the big screen, with crowds of people taking photos and checking in below.
Logically, since the perfume had just launched, her commercial should’ve been running continuously.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.