Chapter 3

When Song Yulin was holding another Alpha, she didn't look at He Yang.

But the other person was probably deliberately looking for him, so his vision was like it had been scorched, and that person's shadow always appeared.

Song Yulin remained unexpectedly calm.

He didn't even know that he could be so composed when he saw the other person again.

When He Yang came over, he could even chat with him in a very polite manner.

"Hello, Mr. He."

It was Song Yulin who first extended her hand to show goodwill to the other party.

But the other person's pupils seemed to be corroded by flames, leaving only a very thin ice shell on the surface. As soon as they met his gaze, more and more fine cracks appeared.

Song Yulin was astonished by her own composure.

The sun was shining brightly, and the aroma of absinthe, tinged with amber, wafted through the air.

It felt as if there was a faint net inside my body, which suddenly tightened and cut into my flesh.

It turns out that people's memories of smells are more vivid than their memories of the past.

The most beautiful and unforgettable memories are those of afternoon fragrances.

But only much later did Song Yulin realize that it had nothing to do with him.

He felt as if he were looking at himself through glass, finally able to face his former lover with equanimity.

He Yang hesitated for a while before grasping Song Yulin's hand, but she pulled away immediately, so he could only hold on tightly.

Song Yulin laughed: "Your hands are so cold, Lu An, could you get me a hand warmer for the guest?"

The Alpha next to him took it out of his pocket and handed it to him: "You always have cold hands and feet, and I can't always keep them warm when we're out, so I always carry it with me."

He Yang's face turned pale instantly.

Song Yulin is indeed like that; her hands and feet get cold as soon as autumn arrives.

In the past, He Yang would hold his feet in his arms and cover his hands to transfer warmth to him.

Just thinking about how, in the shimmering light that lifted a corner of dusk, Song Yulin had once placed her fair, delicate feet, as cold as jade, into someone else's arms, made her blood feel like strong acid, corroding every bone in her body.

He Yang could almost taste a strong fishy smell in his throat.

But Song Yulin simply handed her a hand warmer, so gently, as if their past entanglements had never existed.

He Yang could only accept the hand warmer, but his heart felt like it was engulfed in flames.

The Alpha beside him seemed to ignore He Yang's presence, only staring intently at him: "Yu Lin, I never expected you to give me this painting. I feel like I'm one of the lucky ones chosen by heaven."

Song Yulin just smiled and said, "I'll give you even more in the future."

At this time, some people came to see Song Yulin. Knowing that Song Yulin didn't like socializing, Alpha took the initiative to entertain them for him.

Song Yulin breathed a barely perceptible sigh of relief, only to find that He Yang was still standing in the same spot, not having left.

Excuse me.

Song Yulin gave a slight nod, ignoring He Yang's increasingly pale face.

He walked through the crowd to a corner, pressed his forehead against the wall, and slowly smoothed his trembling fingertips.

Perhaps I shouldn't see He Yang again.

Don't pick at the scabs of a wound; they will heal eventually.

"Rainy Night".

He Yang didn't know how he found him.

He was still impeccably dressed in a suit, with a gray overcoat over it, but his face looked somewhat haggard.

The man had a handsome face with soft, understated features, but his nose was unusually high, giving him a sharp, piercing look.

His lips were thin and beautifully shaped, and it was no surprise that biting sarcasm was his signature rhetoric.

"sorry."

The man finally spoke, after a moment of silence.

"I'm not saying this to beg for your forgiveness, but because I still owe you something."

The scents of freesia and absinthe intertwine, like a vast, all-encompassing net, making it difficult to escape.

"It doesn't matter."

Song Yulin just smiled.

"You're not actually my first boyfriend, nor will you be my last. You didn't have that much of an impact on me."

At this moment, even He Yang's lips had lost their color. The light seemed to have a bleaching effect, instantly washing away all the colors on his body.

He turned slightly to the side, his hand stroking his body as if enduring immense pain, the veins on the back of his hand bulging.

Can I hug you?

He Yang's voice was hoarse when he said this, and his eyes burned with scarlet holes.

"Yu Lin—"

Before Song Yulin could speak, the Alpha, who was a perfect match for her, walked over and pulled her behind him.

"President He."

The young Alpha released champagne-scented pheromones, exuding a highly aggressive aura.

"Isn't it wrong to blatantly poach someone's partner?"

He Yang's eyebrows twitched as if he had been stung, and he immediately released a strong absinthe pheromone.

The two auras clashed like fierce beasts fighting, both exuding a strong aroma of wine, and it was impossible to determine which was superior.

However, He Yang was not in good condition. He rubbed the back of his neck, his brows furrowing more and more.

The pheromone attacks deliberately released by Alphas can actually make the other person uncomfortable, and in severe cases, can even cause physical pain.

Even the Alpha, who was a perfect match for him, clenched his fist slightly.

That's enough.

Song Yulin suddenly tugged at the Alpha's hand, and the cool scent of freesia swept over him like feathers, calming his turbulent pheromones.

In contrast, He Yang's face was deathly pale.

"Lu An and I have other matters to attend to." Song Yulin turned her face away. "Excuse me."

————

After the guests left, Alpha also went home.

Song Yulin was very tired, so he curled up in bed and fell asleep.

I went back to the past in my dream.

It was when he first met He Yang.

These young artists would occasionally set up a street stall to draw portraits for people.

He has a friend who is very individualistic. He paints portraits with artistic touches, making them look full of distorted and spliced ​​lines. He owes two months' rent and hasn't sold a single portrait.

Song Yulin wanted to help, but artists are generally proud and refused.

The location where they were setting up their stall was the 972 Art Factory, where He Yang also had a gallery.

The tall and handsome man bought a portrait and treasured it. He wanted the other person to paint one of his portraits every day and offered to pay him a month's rent in advance, but his friend refused.

“Art shouldn’t be left to gather dust in a warehouse,” my friend said. “And I don’t accept pity.”

Helpless, He Yang later gave the money to his employees to take care of his friend's business, which helped his friend get through the dark period.

Song Yulin felt at the time that He Yang really understood painting.

My friend put a lot of effort into the drawing, and the lines were full of energy. Unfortunately, the style was too avant-garde and difficult for most people to accept.

But Song Yulin was gentle and didn't have the courage to set up a stall on the street.

Perhaps what he fears is not other people, but that his painting will be displayed and that person will simply pass him by.

This is just an interlude in life. Going against the current in a crowded world is hard work. This memory is like a purple seashell, buried deep in the sands of my heart.

Song Yulin and He Yang had no connection.

I learned about He Yang for the second time because of a major event in the entertainment industry.

It was another friend whose painting was copied by a so-called famous artist with some reputation and won an award.

That friend had nowhere to seek redress, and everyone was united in their anger, so much so that they hadn't slept for several days.

Upon hearing this, He Yang proactively offered legal aid, helping his friend successfully turn his life around, and even bought many of his friend's paintings to display in his own gallery.

Song Yulin felt at that time that if she could get to know He Yang and become friends, she would have no regrets in this life.

When applying for a teaching assistant position in the painting class offered by the other party, Song Yulin began to care about her appearance for the first time.

He got a haircut, wore a clean and neat hoodie and work pants, and applied some face cream to make his skin clear and soft.

When he arrived at the scene and saw He Yang dressed in a suit and looking calm and composed, he began to regret it again.

I dressed too much like a college student; I had plenty of youthful energy but lacked maturity.

But He Yang didn't care about any of that. When he saw himself painting, his pupils were like the night sky illuminated by fireworks, dazzling and brilliant.

"Song Yulin, how come you only just discovered me?"

The man's voice was filled with regret that they hadn't met sooner.

"How long have you, this gem, been buried?"

Song Yulin looked at the other person, and He Yang's eyes clearly reflected her own image.

The light in his eyes seemed to adorn him with golden wings, so dazzling.

Song Yulin was born into an unhappy family; his parents divorced, and he lived with his father.

The other party was an alcoholic who frequently beat and verbally abused people. Every time he saw the other party drawing, he would point at the other party's face and scold him for scribbling nonsense, and then tear the drawing up completely.

Song Yulin eagerly audited online classes, watched online courses, and took on painting commissions online to earn money, gradually buying the paints, art supplies, and electronic devices she wanted.

The library was his happiest place because he could borrow books without spending much money.

He is like a photinia struggling to grow in the cracks of rocks, about to bloom with the color of the sunset.

He Yang made him feel loved by the whole world, giving Song Yulin a bittersweet feeling of gain and loss.

Everyone hopes to be a genius, and He Yang's affirmation of his work was like a strong wind lifting him up to great heights.

The world's spotlight shines on him.

Private studios, galleries, money, status—things he never dared to dream of before—came to him one after another.

Yes, as long as it is reflected in that person's eyes, his light will have wings.

Only the wings in dreams last forever, right?

Forget the pain of falling from a height of 90,000 miles when your wings were broken.

A loud clap of thunder startled Song Yulin awake from her dream.

The sky was like a thin sheet of paper, torn open with silver lightning.

The rainwater rushed forth like a waterfall.

His gaze shifted, but he was startled by the shadows hidden in the corner of the garden.

That looks like a person.

It blends seamlessly with the background, like oil paint.

Song Yulin's hand trembled slightly. He pushed open the window to get a better look, but found there was nothing there.

Did I see it wrong?

For many days afterward, whenever Song Yulin went out, she always felt that a tall and thin shadow lingered around her.

Along the edges, they sometimes overlap in the corners of sunlight.