Chapter 2
He Yang was in a daze when he heard the news.
Like a hard-shelled pebble, it is thrown hard into the abyss, its exterior unharmed, only its interior riddled with fine cracks.
His mother was a lady from a prominent family who loved writing, but her writing was not mainstream and only circulated in niche circles.
After their marriage, his father ran a business, and his mother would sit at her desk, with her white gauze billowing, writing every day.
Backlit and gilded – this was probably He Yang's initial understanding of beauty.
The mother was later plagiarized; the plagiarist deconstructed the content, put it in the shell of mainstream culture, and it became a huge hit.
That person began to whitewash his actions, then turned the tables, accusing his mother of plagiarism and using his media connections to smear her with a serious accusation.
The father, a powerful figure in the business world, also launched a media campaign, but the business world was different from the literary world. He couldn't compete with the overwhelming support of the other party's book fans, and instead, rumors spread that the mother's family was wealthy and could control everything.
My mother later developed depression, and at its worst, she even contemplated ending her life.
She possessed such excellent writing skills and talent, yet she dared not pick up a pen again.
He Yang hated nothing more than copying the work of others.
Therefore, when Song Yulin's evidence was presented to him, each and every one of it caused him to lose his composure and judgment.
He feared becoming the knife that hurt others.
But he pointed the knife at the one he loved.
He Yang bought a new art gallery, contacted the media, and persuaded the young master with a combination of incentives and promises, preparing to hold a grand press conference for Song Yulin.
He contacted Song Yulin's parents and explained the whole story, showing them how cunning the young master was, and told them to treat Song Yulin well.
“If you think it’s appropriate,” He Yang said on the phone, “I suggest that the young master personally apologize to Song Yulin in front of the national media in a live broadcast.”
Song Yulin's parents agreed, but declined his offer: "We have already prepared for the press conference, which will be held tomorrow. It will also be a promotional event for Yulin's new paintings."
Mr. Mo's voice was gentle, but it had a resounding impact: "Yulin has family and friends, so naturally someone will take care of these things for him. Besides, your actions are a bit too slow."
He Yang hung up the phone and was enveloped in dark quicksand.
His five orifices were blocked, making it impossible for him to breathe.
He tried everything to make amends, but he couldn't even see Song Yulin once.
Guilt, longing, and regret, like a metal spring, turned mechanically and painfully within him.
He experienced nerve pain in his body, and only by holding onto Song Yulin's clothes could he find some relief.
But those scents faded day by day, and he had no choice but to start taking painkillers.
Surprisingly, the Mo family's press conference invited He Yang.
As if he had returned to his youth, He Yang actually spent a long time getting ready that day. His cufflinks, suit, and tie were all bought by Song Yulin.
When he arrived at the scene, he finally saw his lover whom he had not seen for a long time.
Song Yulin, influenced by the prevailing trends, possessed an elegant appearance with a cool, jade-like sheen.
His eyes were deep-set, with a light-colored pupil, like the setting sun shattered on shimmering waves, shimmering with golden light.
Despite wearing a well-tailored suit, he resembled a delicate porcelain vase displayed on an antique shelf, the shadows highlighting the elegance of his shoulders and waist.
And there's the fragrance of freesias peeking out from the corners.
He felt as if his heart was being gripped in the palm of a tiger, and he experienced an overwhelming dizziness.
He was trying to capture all the phenolic substances in the air, his gaze relentlessly following Song Yulin.
Song Yulin had been looking elsewhere, but when she turned her head, their eyes finally met.
He Yang clenched his hands—he was afraid that the other person would look pale or pained when they saw him.
That would remind him that he was the one who pushed his lover into despair.
But Song Yulin didn't.
The other person was only slightly taken aback, then gave a very polite and distant smile.
He nodded slightly to greet He Yang, and then extended his hand to a young man beside him.
Tall, handsome, with a slender figure and a face as dazzling as a star.
Most importantly, this Alpha's eyes were focused, following Song Yulin like a spotlight.
His body felt like it was on fire, and the distant scent of freesia in the air pierced through his shins like a silver hook, causing He Yang to feel a dull pain.
He knew what he wanted; that soothing, clear scent, like morning mist, was right there beside him.
That was the only medicine that could cure him.
Yet it remains unattainable.
He Yang couldn't remember what was said at the press conference later.
Amidst applause and fireworks, a picture frame draped in champagne silk was slowly brought in, and Song Yulin unveiled the curtain.
It's a new painting.
Like a supernova explosion, a vibrant, soul-like aura bursts from the cocoon of gravity, revealing an elfin silhouette.
The background is swirling, like a spiral of fate.
The colors are rich and deep, like the overtones of a piano, with the high notes of light strings only being plucked in the corners.
Applause and gasps of amazement filled the entire venue.
Even He Yang could see that Song Yulin had made another breakthrough.
The brushstrokes are skillfully unpretentious, increasingly returning to simplicity and authenticity; the emotions are no longer a surge of intense passion, but rather metaphors hidden in the shadows.
Yet it makes you want to cry.
The imagery is so profound, the extreme loneliness is like a black hole, threatening to suck you in completely.
He Yang could barely restrain himself and wanted to go forward and hug Song Yulin.
Only when the harm manifests in a tangible way does he realize that making amends is nothing but a joke.
But Song Yulin remained calm amidst a flurry of camera flashes. He spoke softly, "Today is Lu An's birthday. I present this painting as a gift to thank him for being there for me during my darkest days."
As he finished speaking, he gently gave the young Alpha a light hug.
The sunlight, like dust on gemstones, fell on the brows and eyes of the two people leaning on each other.
Song Yulin is beautiful, He Yang certainly knows that, but not only in appearance, but also in that transparent demeanor as if she were immersed in crystal.
The jewels still shine brightly today, but the brilliance they reflect belongs to others.
He Yang stood there, feeling a tearing pain in his heart, as if boiling oil had been poured over his body, causing a burning pain.
He recalled that summer day when the horizon was filled with a deep blue, and Song Yulin wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes like falling stardust.
"He Yang." A soft, misty kiss landed on Song Yulin's lips. "The Paradise is a gift for you. Happy birthday."
"My paintings will only ever be painted for you."
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