Chapter 48 [VIP]
"You just sensed Master's soul?" Jiang Zhuochen observed Xu Xing's expression and felt that the other party might not have fully recovered yet. He spoke in a gentle tone, suppressing his impatience.
Xu Xing nodded slightly, his fingertips tapping absently on the sofa armrest, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "I can't quite put my finger on it. It feels similar, but not quite the same as the previous times."
"What's different?" Jiang Zhuochen's throat tightened, and his body involuntarily leaned forward.
“It wasn’t as strong as before,” Xu Xing glanced at him meaningfully, describing the situation expressionlessly. “I couldn’t feel the direction either, it was very blurry, and it disappeared after a short while.”
Jiang Zhuochen pondered to himself. Liu Hehuan had once told him that his master's soul was used to suppress vengeful ghosts. Only when the vengeful ghosts weakened would they reveal a trace of their aura. Did the disappearance of that aura mean that the vengeful ghosts had become stronger? Weak one moment and strong the next?
He muttered to himself, "I can sense the presence, but I can't pinpoint the direction..."
"That's not quite right," Xu Xing corrected. "There's no specific point. I feel that the aura coming from all directions is very similar to your master's, only this time it's very weak."
"That art exhibition was filled with Master's aura?" Jiang Zhuochen suddenly looked up, his eyes flashing with surprise and confusion. What does that mean? Are the remaining souls all here?
Xu Xing replied, "They're mainly concentrated on the second floor of the art exhibition."
He looked at the barely suppressed glint in the other person's eyes, understood, and couldn't help but feel a bitter taste in his mouth. This person really couldn't fake it.
"Do you know the person in charge?" Jiang Zhuochen wanted to find out.
Xu Xing's own reflection was clearly visible in those clear eyes, but why did he feel a sense of unfamiliarity? Xu Xing closed his eyes and thought about it carefully. He realized that the other party was always like this. Whenever his master was involved, Jiang Zhuochen's attention would be immediately drawn to him, and everything else would just be a background to be used.
Including his slow walking.
An unprecedented sense of powerlessness quietly sprouted along with a dark thought. He had put in so much effort, yet all he ever received in return was the other party's clear-cut, unwavering pursuit. The question he didn't want to think about gradually came to an answer: if one day he truly helped the other party find their master, he would probably completely lose his reason to stay by their side.
If I can't get it...
The thought gripped his heart like a poisonous ivy. For a moment, Xu Xing almost wanted to refuse without hesitation, to trap the other person firmly in this space, so that those eyes could only look at him.
But in the end, he simply picked up his phone in silence, his voice low: "I'll help you contact them."
The second time I met Li Mingtian was in his temporary private lounge at the back of the exhibition. Li Mingtian was wearing an elegant linen shirt, with a gentle smile. He patiently explained the inspiration behind the paintings and the reasons for holding this retrospective exhibition, and generously offered that they could visit anytime in the coming days.
However, Jiang Zhuochen's sense of unease grew stronger as he carefully observed Li Mingtian's face while he chatted with Xu Xing. Good and bad fortune coexist, blessings and misfortunes intertwine; generally, it's impossible for a person to possess both extremely auspicious and extremely inauspicious facial features simultaneously. One of these must be caused by something forcibly distorted or corrupted by later in life.
Recalling the intermittent aura of his master's spirit that had appeared on the second floor of the art exhibition, he couldn't help but interrupt Li Mingtian's explanation of an early landscape painting and tentatively asked, "Mr. Li, why did you want to become a painter?"
Li Mingtian seemed taken aback for a moment, as if no one had asked this simple and superficial question in a long time. He smiled gently, his tone slowing down, carrying a lingering sense of reminiscence. "I didn't like studying in junior high school, my grades were terrible, and my family scolded me severely. To vent my anger, I secretly scribbled in the tunnel, and my mentor happened to be passing by and saw me."
He paused, his thoughts drifting into the distance. "He... never told the truth. He insisted I had talent, that I was a hidden gem, and asked if I wanted to learn painting from him. I was young then, ambitious, and easily fooled, so... I entered this industry in a daze."
“But Mr. Li is now very successful in his career, and his paintings are widely loved. It’s unlikely that he’s just bluffing,” Jiang Zhuochen politely chimed in.
"Naturally, that doesn't count."
Li Mingtian's expression didn't change much, and his tone was full of longing for his mentor, but Jiang Zhuochen keenly caught a fleeting dark glint in his eyes.
In that brief half-second, Li Mingtian became strange; something cold and crazy seemed to seep out from beneath his gentle exterior.
“If you’ve been in a certain industry for decades and there are people around you who constantly encourage you, I believe you can succeed.” He subtly emphasized the word ‘encourage’ before ending the meeting tactfully, unwilling to elaborate further.
Leaving the lounge, Jiang Zhuochen entered the exhibition hall again. This time, he made a point of carefully examining each painting in chronological order.
His early paintings were somewhat immature, with brushstrokes that conveyed the arrogance and carefree spirit of youth. Gradually, his technique matured, and in the years when Li Mingtian was around twenty-five or twenty-six, both the quantity and quality of his works experienced an explosive growth.
What particularly caught Jiang Zhuochen's attention was that each of his paintings from that period exuded a strong sense of contradiction, filled with brushstrokes and imagery that contradicted his overall style, as if he was desperately fighting against something intangible, while trying to integrate it into himself with difficulty.
About two years later, this sense of struggle suddenly disappeared, his style stabilized, and he developed his now highly praised unique style, but Jiang Zhuochen felt that a certain genuine creative trace was missing.
According to Li Mingtian, he only had one teacher in his life, and the debt of gratitude he owed him was immense. So why is there no trace of that mentor in such an important retrospective exhibition summarizing his achievements? Why wasn't he even mentioned much? Considering his age, that mentor should still be alive today.
Li Mingtian's past, that mysterious mentor, the sudden struggle and transformation in the painting style, and that ambiguous face and the pervasive aura of the master's soul... all of this spun in Jiang Zhuochen's mind like fragments, and he desperately wanted to know the connection between them.
The master's soul in the longevity lamp can already respond to him. If he finds another piece of the soul, it might be able to take form or restore consciousness.
Jiang Zhuochen felt as if he hadn't seen his master's face in the illusion not long ago, but now it felt like an eternity. He desperately wanted to see his master.
For most of the day, his attention was entirely focused on the subtle clues in front of him, sparing no glance for anyone around him.
Back at the villa, Jiang Zhuochen was still lost in his thoughts. He walked up to Xu Xing, who was standing by the wine cabinet, his tone unconsciously carrying an undisguised urgency.
"Could you help me investigate Li Mingtian thoroughly? Especially his past, and that mentor he mentioned? I have a feeling there's something fishy going on behind the scenes, otherwise why would his master's aura appear and disappear intermittently? Or perhaps his master's soul was......"
"I have never explicitly said that this is the soul you are looking for."
Jiang Zhuochen thought that Xu Xing would agree after being pestered for a few more words, just like he had done countless times before, so he was caught off guard when he was interrupted.
Xu Xing slowly turned around, the crystal wine glass in his hand reflecting the cold light of the overhead lamp. His face no longer held the helpless yet indulgent expression of the past; instead, it was filled with an almost indifferent calm. But beneath that calm, it seemed as if an undercurrent was surging wildly.
He looked at Jiang Zhuochen, at his eyes, which were exceptionally vivid with focus and worry for his master, and at the way he made every move, all for the sake of another person…
He suddenly realized that he was incomparable at all. Jiang Zhuochen had never given him a second glance, and it was always him who had been trying every means to keep Jiang Zhuochen by his side.
“I never agreed to that,” Xu Xing’s voice was calm and collected, yet it was sharp and piercing like an ice pick. “I wanted to help you save your master.”
Jiang Zhuochen's expression suddenly froze, his brain seemingly shutting down, as if he hadn't understood the words. A look of astonishment and confusion appeared on his face, and he subconsciously repeated, "What?"
“I said,” Xu Xing’s gaze didn’t waver, but instead carried an almost cruel scrutiny, each word like it had been pried from an iceberg, cold and piercing. “I never promised to help you with these things. It’s your business to find your master, but why should I use my connections to help you find another person who is so important to you?”
Jiang Zhuochen froze on the spot, even the color draining from his face. Xu Xing's question was like an extremely sharp knife, accurately and neatly dissecting the legitimate claim that he had never truly considered.
Yes… Xu Xing had never explicitly promised anything. It was just that over this period of time, he had provided him with accommodation, helped him solve problems, and accompanied him on his travels. Everything seemed so natural. So much so that he had become accustomed to this unconditional support and had never thought about the foundation and cost behind this 'naturalness'… until now, when it was ruthlessly torn apart by the other party.
It was all too natural to be taken for granted. When he was so decisively exposed and rejected, the overwhelming sense of loss was so profound that Jiang Zhuochen could hardly breathe.
He stared at Xu Xing's expressionless face, his throat tightening, his voice becoming dry and hoarse. "Then... how can you help me?"
The volume was as soft as cotton wool, overflowing with a lingering hope that things could still be salvaged.
Xu Xing couldn't bear to see his unconsciously revealed grievance and helplessness, so he forced himself to look away, his profile taut.
His tone carried a hint of barely perceptible irritation, and his words were even colder: "If you're so capable, why don't you go find it yourself?"
These words struck Jiang Zhuochen like a hammer blow, leaving his head buzzing and shattering the calm he was trying to maintain. His fingers dug into his palms, the stinging pain bringing him acutely aware of the reality before him. The other party truly had no obligation to help him.
It was strange; it was clearly the truth. But why did his chest feel so tight and painful, and why did a surge of resentment and anger well up inside him, feelings he had so easily dismissed and distanced himself from? This unfamiliar feeling left him speechless for a moment, with only Xu Xing's cold voice echoing within him, bringing waves of chills.
He pursed his lips, and all his emotions finally coalesced into a detached calm.
"good."
He stopped looking at Xu Xing, walked past him, and headed straight for the gate, his movements decisive and swift, without the slightest hesitation.
"I'll find it myself."
The door closed gently behind him, without making a loud noise, yet it seemed to erect an invisible barrier, separating the inside from the outside. The only sound in the entryway was the faint movement of air as he left.
Xu Xing remained standing stiffly in place, without turning around, and drank the remaining wine in his glass in one gulp.
The spicy liquid burned his throat, but he couldn't suppress the surging restlessness and regret in his heart, as well as the premonition that he was about to lose something.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com