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A few days later, when Lin Ruoyin stepped into the studio again, the canvas was already a nearly completed landscape painting. The brushstrokes were so precise that they revealed the veins of every leaf, and the colors were as harmonious as a print. It was perfect, but it lacked soul.
"Xu Jia."
She called out to him, and Xu Jia turned around. There was obvious fatigue in his eyes, and there was stubble on his chin, but the moment he saw her, a faint flame lit up in his eyes.
Xu Jia put down his paintbrush.
Lin Ruoyin didn't approach; she simply stood at the doorway, backlit, her expression blurred in the shadows. Only her voice came through clearly, carrying a deliberately created sense of distance: "I want to talk to you."
Xu Jia nodded, gesturing for her to come in, "Sit down."
Lin Ruoyin didn't sit down, or even move a step. She stood there, her gaze sweeping over the painting again, then quickly looked away as if burned, and calmly said, "No need, just a few words, and I'll leave after I'm done."
They hadn't seen each other for a few days.
Since that argument.
"..." Xu Jia: "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"
Lin Ruoyin took a deep breath and looked up. This time, facing the light from the window, Xu Jia could see her face clearly—calm and aloof.
"I've thought about it seriously for a few days." Her voice was clear, each word distinct. "I think it's better for us to end it here."
The studio was deathly silent.
The hissing of the radiators and the faint sound of car horns in the distance became indistinct background noise.
The color drained from Xu Jia's face instantly. He seemed not to understand, or as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer. It took him a long time to utter a sound: "What?"
"I'm tired, I don't want to continue."
The blood flowed back slightly, bringing a cool, stinging sensation.
Xu Jia looked in the direction her gaze had just swept and saw that the meticulously crafted but empty and dull painting on the easel was not yet dry.
"Because of this? I know you don't like the drawings I make. Give me a little more time, and I can find a way to balance it out."
"No." Lin Ruoyin shook her head as she looked at Xu Jia's bewildered and lost expression. "I've realized it. You're all right. I have indeed sacrificed a lot to be with you. At first, I thought it was love, but later I realized that I was just putting in the effort without any real suffering."
He froze completely, his pupils suddenly contracted, and the last trace of color drained from his face, leaving him frighteningly pale.
Lin Ruoyin seemed not to notice and continued in that flat, even somewhat weary tone: "My dad was right from the beginning; it's very important to marry someone of equal social standing."
"I've had my fill of fun, and I'm tired. I want to continue living the life I want, buying whatever I want and going wherever I want. You should go back to your original world too." She even shrugged slightly, forcing a smile that seemed incredibly relaxed.
"Stop talking." Xu Jia's voice was low and hoarse, with a suppressed tremor and stubborn refusal. "I know you're still angry with me, angry that I drew those things... Don't say these things against your conscience, Ruoyin. I know you're not that kind of person."
Looking into the unwavering conviction in his eyes, Lin Ruoyin felt as if her heart had been twisted violently. She clenched her fist tightly, using the pain to maintain the steadyness of her voice and the coldness on her face.
“Xu Jia,” she called his name, her voice carrying a clear resolve, “please, wake up, stop living in your own fantasy. I’m serious.”
Xu Jia turned his head away, his voice stiff: "I'll take it as you didn't say anything just now."
Looking at his stubborn profile, Lin Ruoyin knew that saying anything more would be futile. She couldn't continue. If she stayed even a second longer, seeing his pale, broken, yet resolute expression because of her words, all her pretense would crumble.
She gave him one last, deep look, took a deep breath, and then turned around without hesitation, opened the door, and walked out.
The door closed gently, shutting out the tears that instantly welled up in her eyes.
Inside the door, Xu Jia remained standing in the same spot, facing the tightly closed door.
After a long while, he slowly turned around and looked at the painting "The Instigator" on the easel.
Is it possible to achieve success by adhering to one's ideals?
There must be a way.
Xu Jia slowly squatted down, frowned, and endured the splitting headache, telling himself that there must be a way.
After that brief but decisive conversation, Lin Ruoyin seemed to have completely evaporated from Xu Jia's world.
For the first few days, Xu Jia was like a walking corpse. He went to class mechanically, but couldn't hear anything; he could sit in the library and stare blankly at the open pages of a book for an entire afternoon; he went to the lakeside, but the paint on his palette dried up and he had no interest in mixing it.
The pervasive emptiness in the air almost swallowed him up, and every breath was accompanied by a dull pain.
But Xu Jia did not let himself indulge in it for too long.
He knew the root cause was that he, Xu Jia, was not yet powerful enough to support their future.
Unless this fundamental problem is resolved, all the good things between them will be like a sandcastle, unable to withstand any storms.
Having figured this out, Xu Jia's world seemed to be recalibrated. The pain remained, but it was no longer a aimless pervasive feeling; instead, it was transformed into a calm and unwavering inner drive.
He began to visit the professional document room frequently. He still went to the lake to sketch, but he no longer painted sentimental scenes of spring and autumn; instead, he observed and expressed the power of light, shadow, and the essence of structure more deeply.
He revived those shelved creative projects full of personal expression. After returning to his original style, his paintings became more profound and infectious because they were infused with more quiet reflection and the resilience of life.
He began to systematically study art history, the art market, and even business operation models. He no longer rejected the word "success," but tried to understand and define his own "success," such as establishing influence, gaining a voice, and having platforms and resources to fully realize and disseminate his inner artistic ideals.
He enrolled in several forward-thinking art workshops and forums, exploring the latest artistic trends and potential cross-disciplinary collaborations. He poured all his limited resources into improving himself and his work, patiently refining each piece and every expression of his art as if polishing the most precious gemstone.
This process was lonely and long, like forging a thorny path alone in the dark. But Xu Jia's heart was at peace. He knew where the direction lay.
Occasionally, he would glean fragments of information about Lin Ruoyin from Shen Yuqing's hesitant expression or from the scattered conversations of others, but he had no way of getting any information directly from her. She refused to see him and refused to reply to his messages.
After a few times, Xu Jia stopped pressing the issue. He knew that the only thing he could do now was to grow faster and accumulate strength more quickly.
Time slipped away quietly amidst the scratching of paintbrushes and the turning of pages.
Meanwhile, in the Lin family's mansion, which once symbolized stability and prosperity, an invisible pressure was quietly accumulating.
In Lin Zhenbang's study, the light was on lately more and more frequently. The ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts, and the air was thick with anxiety and exhaustion. His once straight back now often showed a slight, almost imperceptible hunch.
Lin Ruoyin keenly sensed the changes at home. Her father's tone on the phone grew increasingly serious, and the lines between his brows deepened.
On the living room TV, financial news reports kept replaying "the impact on the real economy" and "the retail industry's winter"...
One day, Lin Ruoyin overheard her father speaking on the phone in his study, his voice trembling with anxiety she had never heard before: "...The cash flow must be stabilized! Let's reconsider the rent for those stores... Yes, delay it as long as possible..."
The unease in her heart spread rapidly, like ink drops in clear water. Her breathing slowed slightly, and she quietly retreated back into the room.
Graduation season is always mixed with uncertainty about the future. For Lin Ruoyin, this uncertainty was even more so.
On a sweltering afternoon, Lin Ruoyin overheard a snippet of her father's phone call with a longtime friend and important business partner outside his study. Her father's voice was weary yet almost pleading: "Old Zhang, for the sake of our years of friendship, that bridge loan… give me another half a month, just half a month! I promise, as soon as the new funding arrives…"
The rest of the conversation became blurry; words like bridge financing, grace period, and financing pierced my heart like cold stones.
Lin Ruoyin's heart sank to the bottom; her family had reached the point where she needed to beg for leniency.
Subsequently, the Lin family's financial situation deteriorated rapidly. A crucial bank loan failed to be approved on schedule, triggering a chain reaction. Suppliers demanded payment, rent disputes arose frequently, and two long-established shops in prime locations were even forced to make the difficult decision to close down and liquidate.
A huge dark cloud hung over the Lin family. Lin Zhenbang seemed to have aged considerably overnight, with gray hairs sprouting at his temples. His younger sister, Lin Ruomeng, was sometimes taciturn and sometimes hysterical. Once, she even came home crying, saying that she had heard her classmates talking about how their family was "going bankrupt."
Lin Ruoyin watched her family struggle in the vortex and felt suffocated like never before.
Just when the Lin family was in a state of utter distress and almost at their wits' end, an unexpected olive branch was extended from another direction.
The Lu family and the Lin family are longtime friends and former business partners. The Lu family's main business is traditional jewelry and luxury goods retail. Although they are facing pressure to transform, they have deep roots and a solid financial foundation. The Lu family's eldest son, Lu Yan, has just returned from studying abroad and is a notoriously pleasure-loving playboy.
At a family dinner to maintain relations between the two families, Lu Yan's mother, Mrs. Lu, held Lin Ruoyin's hand and said in an affectionate yet tentative tone, "Ruoyin is growing more and more beautiful, sensible and capable. I would be happy if our Lu Yan's future wife could be as good as you."
The meaning behind the words is obvious.
Lin Zhenbang was also present at the time, and upon hearing this, his eyes flickered with a complex mix of emotions.
Lin Ruoyin maintained a polite smile, but her palms were sweating. She understood Mrs. Lu's implication and her father's momentary hesitation. For the Lin family at this moment, a marriage alliance with the still powerful Lu family would undoubtedly be a powerful shot in the arm, perhaps even the key to their survival.
After the banquet, Lin Zhenbang, unusually, did not immediately go to his study, but instead called Lin Ruoyin to a side hall. The father and daughter remained silent for a moment.
"The Lu family... they have mentioned it to me a few times." Lin Zhenbang's voice was somewhat hoarse, his gaze fixed on his daughter's stiff face, filled with weariness and deep guilt. "I know this isn't fair to you. I also know that Lu Yan isn't a good match. But Ruoyin..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the unspoken words weighed heavily on Lin Ruoyin's heart like a boulder.
"Dad," Lin Ruoyin heard her own voice unusually calm, so calm that it felt unfamiliar to her, "Has the family... really come to this?"
Lin Zhenbang sighed deeply: "The situation with the bank... is already very difficult. If we can't repay that debt next month, we might not even be able to afford this house..."
Lin Ruoyin understood.
Outside the window, the night was deep and there were no stars.
The meeting place with Lu Yan was set at a French restaurant on the top floor of a private club.
When Lin Ruoyin arrived, Lu Yan was already there.
He sat relaxed in the sofa by the window, dressed in a well-tailored white suit, casually swirling a glass of amber-colored whiskey in his hand, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.
Lin Ruoyin wore a simple black dress today, which made her skin look even whiter. Her long hair was loosely tied up, revealing the graceful lines of her neck. She wore light makeup, and her eyes were calm, even overly calm, without a trace of the shyness, ingratiation, or scrutiny that one would expect in such a setting.
Lu Yan's gaze lingered on her for a few seconds.
"Ruoyin," he put down his wine glass and stood up, "you look beautiful tonight."
Lin Ruoyin's lips curved into a very faint smile, her expression unwavering.
The waiter promptly handed over the menu. The ordering process was brief and polite; Lin Ruoyin only casually pointed to a few items, her mind clearly elsewhere.
When the appetizers arrived, Lu Yan picked up his knife and fork and began cutting the foie gras on his plate. His usual leisurely demeanor vanished. He looked up at Lin Ruoyin and spoke as if recalling a long-ago anecdote: "When I was little, I think I used to run after you in the garden of the old house, trying to snatch something from your hand. It was probably a toy. Haha, it's been so many years."
He paused, a hint of inquiry in his eyes: "I was quite surprised when I received this meeting arrangement. In my memory, you are very decisive and don't seem like the type to obediently come to this kind of occasion."
Lin Ruoyin's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the water glass. "People change."
Lu Yan raised an eyebrow and smiled. Interesting. The girls he'd previously been arranged to meet either feigned aloofness while actually playing hard to get, or were so overly enthusiastic that they annoyed him, their eyes always carrying a longing or calculation for the title of "Mrs. Lu." This Miss Lin before him, though she said "people change," the innate stubbornness and aloofness deep in her eyes remained almost unchanged. She still displayed a cold indifference towards the meeting, as if simply sitting there was the greatest cooperation, and any further warmth or flattery would be superfluous.
This undisguised, even somewhat stubborn, perfunctory attitude felt novel to him.
"So," Lu Yan said, propping his elbows on the table, his tone clearly teasing, "what made you change? You didn't suddenly think I, Lu Yan, was someone you could entrust your life to, did you?"
Lin Ruoyin met Lu Yan's slightly mocking gaze with a frank look. She put down her water glass, the porcelain clinking softly against the table. "You're a smart person, so I won't beat around the bush," she said, her voice clear and calm. "You must be aware of the Lin family's current predicament. I need the Lu family's resources to help my family through this difficult time."
There was a moment of silence after she finished speaking.
The playful smile on Lu Yan's face gradually faded. He leaned back in his chair and began to examine the girl in front of him again.
So direct, laying the exchange of interests on the table without even a hint of concealment. He had seen too many men and women marry for the sake of family interests, but she was the first to speak of the deal so clearly and coldly.
That's so interesting.
Lu Yan chuckled softly.
"Lin Ruoyin," he called her by her full name for the first time, his tone carrying a hint of genuine interest.
Lin Ruoyin didn't reply, but just looked at him quietly, waiting for him to continue.
"To be honest, I have absolutely no interest in getting married." Lu Yan's tone became casual. "I'm annoyed by my family pressuring me, and I've met quite a few people. I'm tired of acting."
He looked at Lin Ruoyin, his eyes sparkling with a sense of sudden enlightenment.
"But now that you mention it, I think we might be able to collaborate."
Lin Ruoyin's eyes flickered slightly: "Cooperation?"
“Yes, cooperation.” Lu Yan leaned forward, his tone seductive as if sharing a secret. “Look, you need the Lu family’s help to stabilize your family, and I need a wife to shut up the elders and deal with their endless pressure to get married and blind dates. We each get what we need.”
He paused, observing Lin Ruoyin's reaction. Seeing that she didn't immediately object or show disgust, he continued, "We can get married, nominally. There will be all the proper ceremonies and formalities, satisfying both families. But privately, we won't interfere with each other. You'll still be you, and I'll still be me. As long as we don't go too far and maintain a semblance of propriety, whatever you want to do, and whatever I want to do, we'll understand each other without interfering. How about that?"
This proposal is bold and absurd.
Strangely, this proposal for "cooperation" gave her a sense of relief.
There is no way out.
Or rather, from the moment she stepped into this restaurant, she had personally cut off all her escape routes. But the path Lu Yan offered, though cold, was straight and clear, requiring no compromise or compromise from her, and even preserving a certain degree of "self." This made her feel a strange, incongruous sense of novelty, even a subtle loosening, amidst the heavy burden.
She looked up at the man opposite her, who was waiting for her reply with a cynical smile.
After a long pause, she nodded gently, her voice soft but clear: "Okay."
Lu Yan's smile widened, and he raised his glass to her, saying, "Then it's settled. Happy cooperation."
Lin Ruoyin did not raise her glass, but simply nodded slightly.
A mutually beneficial, tacitly agreed-upon marriage was thus finalized. But at this moment, the unclosed silver thread seemed to be forcibly twisted onto another, unexpected fork in the road.
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