Chapter 54 [VIP]

Oh no! Jiang Zhuochen's heart tightened. Although they had triggered the security system to lock the door, as insiders, they must have other plans.

"Let's go!" Xu Xing grabbed Jiang Zhuochen's hand, which he hadn't even had time to wipe clean, and immediately headed towards the staff entrance and freight elevator on the second floor. "There should be a staircase here."

Jiang Zhuochen glanced down in a hurry and saw that Zhong Bai's ghost had probably been affected as well. It suddenly shrank uncontrollably, turning into a dim stream of light, and slowly disappeared back into the lime jar in his hand, leaving a trail of wispy exhaust in the air.

Xu Xing led his men to the end of the corridor and found an iron door marked 'Emergency Exit' and 'No Trespassing'. The door was locked, so Jiang Zhuochen immediately and tacitly stepped forward to forcibly dismantle it. Inside, as expected, was a fire escape staircase leading to the unloading area on the first floor.

Jiang Zhuochen took a moment from his busy schedule to praise, "You even know that."

He didn't expect an answer, and continued walking as the other person pulled him along. Xu Xing tightened his grip on his wrist subtly. What he didn't say was that as soon as he sensed something was wrong here, he had sent people to find out the internal structure.

The stairwell was even dimmer and filled with a lingering smell of dust. The two hurried downstairs, and could hear more footsteps and noise coming from the direction of the main entrance on the first floor; the security guards seemed to have already entered the exhibition hall.

"This way." Xu Xing said in a low voice, gesturing for Jiang Zhuochen to walk in another direction. Soon after, he pushed open a fire door, leading to a narrow alley behind the exhibition hall where miscellaneous items were piled up.

As soon as they stepped outside, the chilly night wind swept over them. The two quickly disappeared into the shadows of the alley, moving rapidly away from the exhibition hall. The sound of police sirens grew louder behind them, and flashing red and blue lights illuminated the surrounding area.

After turning several street corners and confirming that no one was following them, they stopped at the side of a relatively quiet alley.

Jiang Zhuochen supported himself on his knees, slightly out of breath. "I thought... I was going to be trapped inside."

Xu Xing's breathing remained steady. He straightened his slightly disheveled clothes and glanced in the direction from which they had come. "Shall we go back first?"

Jiang Zhuochen hesitated.

Xu Xing saw through it immediately. He said to the other person, "You're already very tired today. Even if you're in a hurry, it's unlikely you'll find the remaining painting. Go back and rest first, okay?"

After a long pause, Jiang Zhuochen sighed softly, "Alright."

Back home, Jiang Zhuochen completely relaxed and lay on the sofa, not wanting to move at all.

Xu Xing stood next to him, looking down into the other's unfocused eyes. "If you're tired, go back to your room and sleep."

The wall lamp shone down on Xu Xing's head, softening his backlit figure as if a filter had been applied. Jiang Zhuochen's pupils gradually focused on his face, and he suddenly reached out, then stopped a second before he could touch him.

His mind went blank, and he didn't understand what he was doing.

Xu Xing, without asking why, naturally reached out and enveloped his hand, giving it a barely perceptible rub.

Once he had recovered somewhat, Jiang Zhuochen rubbed his temples. "Zhong Bai's ghost's hatred was so real, so why did he avoid answering when asked why?"

A hint of helplessness flashed across Xu Xing's brows, but he still sat down beside him and answered his question: "Perhaps the reason is not honorable, so he knows that he is not innocent if he tells the truth."

"So the problem might lie with Li Mingtian?" Jiang Zhuochen calmly analyzed. "Leaving aside the ghost, let's go check on the living one."

A person who can imprison his teacher's soul with evil magic for more than 20 years cannot be normal; there must be a way out for him.

"How do you plan to investigate?" Xu Xing asked.

Jiang Zhuochen pondered for a moment, "Do you think his studio would have items from over twenty years ago?"

Xu Xing lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the man's slightly tired face. "What do you need to do?"

The spell of "touch an object to retrieve a soul" has certain limitations. It requires that the object be something the person in question has come into contact with, and that the object must have existed long before the time of retrieval.

The paintings in those exhibition halls are the best things to trace back to, but after all that destruction, the remaining ones will probably be under even tighter guard, making them harder to deal with.

"I'm just a little curious," Jiang Zhuochen said softly, as if talking to himself. He couldn't imagine what reason could have led a master and disciple to this point. Perhaps it was selfishness at play; he wanted to understand the situation clearly to prevent the same fate from befalling him and his master.

"I'd like to find out what happened between those two. But business is more important, so if there's nothing to find out, then forget it."

After all, his master's soul was inside Zhong Bai's body. All he could do now was repair the other's ghost and help him fulfill his wish. Perhaps then the other would cooperate with him to remove the wisp of remnant soul from his body.

“He used that studio for many years,” Xu Xing said calmly. “He should have left behind some old items that are of sentimental value.”

“That’s true.” Jiang Zhuochen said, yawning as he spoke, his eyes glistening with moisture.

Seeing this, Xu Xing said, "Go to sleep first. You probably won't be able to hold on tomorrow in this condition."

"I know..." Jiang Zhuochen stood up reluctantly, a hint of dissatisfaction in her eyes. She had urged him three times that night. "Old lady."

Xu Xing paused for a moment, then couldn't help but let out a helpless smile.

The following evening, the two arrived at the studio. Xu Xing waited outside while Jiang Zhuochen went up alone.

As usual, he carefully observed the surroundings and sneaked into the house when no one was around. Since he couldn't turn on the lights, he had to rely on the moonlight from the window and the luminous pearl in his hand to move cautiously.

Jiang Zhuochen's gaze swept over the mountain of picture books, discarded paint tubes and rags, and finally stopped in front of a rather old solid wood bookshelf in the rest room.

Most of the bookshelf was filled with art books and materials, but on the top shelf, near the corner, a thick layer of dust covered a few boxes that seemed out of place with their surroundings.

Jiang Zhuochen tiptoed and carefully removed a dusty cardboard box. Years of accumulated dust were stirred, blurring the surface in the night. Jiang Zhuochen waved it and opened the box.

Inside was a gold-rimmed crystal trophy shaped like an abstract small easel. He struggled to decipher the inscription on the base: "Gold Award, 89th National Youth Art Competition, Li Mingtian".

The trophy lay carelessly tossed in its box, next to a faded photograph. In the photo, a young student smiled shyly yet brightly, holding the trophy, while a similarly young and handsome teacher stood beside him. The teacher's hand was on the student's shoulder, his face bearing a smile that was hard to describe, a mixture of approval and a certain possessiveness.

Jiang Zhuochen's heart skipped a beat. He quickly covered his eyes with his hands and closed them. A flash of white light appeared in his mind, followed by increasingly clear images, and his heartbeat quickened.

In the backstage lounge of the competition venue, Zhong Bai cornered Li Mingtian against the wall, gently stroking his cheek with the back of his hand, his whole demeanor tender and affectionate. "See? I told you you had the ability. As long as you listen to me and stop thinking about your mediocre painting techniques, you will definitely become one of the most renowned young painters in the near future."

"Don't let me down, my muse."

Li Mingtian's throat bobbed, and his eyes welled up with tears. He wanted to ask something, but in the end, he just nodded in agreement.

Zhong Bai was overjoyed and lowered his voice to coax, "Do you remember what I said about being happy?"

Li Mingtian's lips trembled slightly, his smile almost faltering. His brows furrowed, his expression involuntarily tightening before he forced them open again; anyone could see he wasn't happy. Yet, in the silent standoff, he still responded, closed his eyes, and kissed her, the suppressed moisture sliding down his cheeks.

Zhong Bai wiped away his tears, then gently pressed his palm against the back of the other's head, bridging the distance between them.

Afterwards, Zhong Bai stored the trophy in his studio. He stared at it with satisfaction for a while, then threw Li Mingtian onto the bed and leaned over to press himself against him.

This kind of thing happened frequently in the days that followed. Li Mingtian was like a blank sheet to be painted on, with marks left at will by the other party. Whenever he trembled and said that this was wrong, Zhong Bai would lovingly shut his mouth, guiding him again and again that this was the privilege of an artist, an emotion that transcended the mundane world.

Perhaps he had gotten used to it, and gradually Li Mingtian stopped struggling. He became completely compliant with Zhong Bai's intimate contact, and even became a source of inspiration for Zhong Bai's special paintings that required emotional experience.

This led to a rebound in his painting skills, where he insisted on his own style. No matter how much Li Mingtian tormented and brainwashed him, he only became more and more deeply involved, which finally led to a long-awaited argument.

Li Mingtian's words carried a deeper meaning: "It's been a year, and I thought you were moved by me."

Without waiting for a reply, he pulled the person into the lounge.

So in the days that followed, arguments and kisses went on and on, until Li Mingtian accidentally discovered that Zhong Bai was actually imitating his painting style in private, and until he witnessed Zhong Bai having other 'mutions'.

The double betrayal and humiliation drove Li Mingtian to the brink of collapse, smashing the studio to pieces and grabbing him by the collar, repeatedly questioning him about his true meaning to him.

Zhong Bai remained completely calm, his cold words piercing Li Mingtian's heart.

Only then did he realize that all of Zhong Bai's "deep affection" was nothing more than lust for his body, making him willing to be a puppet to be manipulated, while at the same time exploiting his youth and talent as nourishment for his own creations.

He regarded him as a god, but he only regarded him as the most perfect work, and the most handy tool among many.

For the next two years, Li Mingtian endured it all, pretending nothing had happened and becoming even more submissive. On the eve of Zhong Bai's career reaching its peak and holding an incredibly important art exhibition, he celebrated with a smile, but also secretly drugged Zhong Bai's drink.

When Zhong Bai woke up again, he was tied to a chair in the studio. Li Mingtian was holding the custom-made painting knife that the other party had given him, and he made the other party act as a 'muse' for a while.

“Teacher, look, this is what true fusion of flesh and blood looks like. Your colors will forever remain on my canvas from now on.”

After midnight, Li Mingtian brought up the live stream, making Zhong Bai watch helplessly as his art exhibition was burned to ashes before finally stabbing him in the heart, ending his life.

When it was all over, Li Mingtian sat in his studio all night. As dawn broke, he woke up as if from a dream, startled, and threw down his drawing knife. He hurried to the calm, peaceful, yet cold body, and after a moment, he couldn't help but cry and laugh at the same time.

He claimed that his teacher committed suicide because he couldn't bear the thought of his life's work going up in flames. He said that when the teacher was found, the best time for rescue had passed, and it was unknown whether he would wake up.

As the people outside waited and waited, their enthusiasm waned, and Zhong Bai quietly passed away on an ordinary afternoon.

This is the result to the outside world, but whenever the night is quiet, Li Mingtian always tosses and turns, feeling lonely. He is tormented to the point of being neither human nor ghost.

He attributed all of this to Zhong Bai, and in his resentment, he found a Taoist priest to tear the man's soul apart, scatter it into his ashes, and incorporate it into his painting, deceiving himself into believing that this was revenge against him.

Jiang Zhuochen opened his eyes, his expression complex, and suddenly felt that the trophy in his hand was a hot potato.

Put aside grudges and affections for now. No, how could there be such a thing between master and disciple... He didn't dare to think about it at the moment, for fear that some blood-pumping images would involuntarily pop into his mind.

"Hiss..." The more something is forbidden to be mentioned, the more it lingers in his mind. Jiang Zhuochen stomped his foot uncomfortably, his heartbeat quickening unconsciously, making him so agitated that he wanted to knock himself unconscious.

Scenes of his past interactions with his master flashed through his mind one by one. He remembered how his master had gently accepted every one of his tantrums and unreasonable behavior, his face always showing unchanging indulgence and tolerance.

Why is it that I didn't pay attention to things before, but now I can remember every little detail?