Chapter 64 Extra Chapter 1: When We Were Young
Others learn to paint either because they like it or because they are forced to by their parents, but Fu Xuanliao is different; he learns to paint to be lazy.
The art studio at No. 3 Middle School is located on the second floor of the main building, a convenient location that makes it easy to arrive late or leave early. Fu Xuanliao enrolled in the art studio in the first semester of his second year of high school, and from then on, he was among a group of art students, enjoying a pleasant campus life with only two classes in the afternoon.
Unfortunately, his attempt to deceive the teacher at the art studio was thwarted.
The teacher's surname is Sun, and his given name is Yanfeng. In addition to teaching art students preparing for college entrance exams, he also teaches art to the junior high school students. It was he who discovered Fu Xuanliao's talent for painting in an art class and invited him to study at his studio.
Fu Xuanliao rejected him.
Fourteen-year-old Fu Xuanliao stood in the corridor outside the classroom, his schoolbag slung over one shoulder and a basketball tucked under his arm. His reason was quite convincing: "I need to play basketball, I don't have time." As he spoke, he craned his neck to look downstairs. "Teacher, please move aside, I need to go and claim the court first."
Looking back on the incident, Fu Xuanliao felt that this guy surnamed Sun was very vengeful. Last time, a classmate named Zhang Hao also sneaked out of the back door halfway through class, making such a big commotion, but Sun pretended not to see it. Why was he caught red-handed and made to stand outside as punishment when it was his turn?
But since he'd already been punished, it would be a shame not to slack off. Fu Xuanliao found a shady spot, took out his phone and sent Gao Lecheng a message saying he wasn't going today. Then he put his phone on silent, put it back in his pocket, relaxed, and leaned against the wall to doze off.
After an unknown amount of time, Fu Xuanliao was woken up by Shi Mu.
"You can fall asleep here?" Shi Mu seemed surprised. "Where's your painting?"
Fu Xuanliao pointed to the schoolbag on the ground.
Shi Mu scoffed, "You said you'd come to learn to draw with me, but I think you just want to skip class."
Knowing Dao Zhong's true thoughts, Fu Xuanliao wasn't embarrassed at all. He stretched and asked, "Finished drawing?"
"Hmm." Speaking of this, Shi Mu suddenly became a little downcast. "Let's go."
I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. As I walked, I glanced into the art studio and saw several students gathered in the back row, admiring the artwork on their canvases and engaging in a lively discussion.
Fu Xuanliao remembered whose seat it was and said to Shi Mu, "Your brother hasn't left yet, let's wait for him."
Shi Mu was unwilling to wait, and her tone was quite sharp: "If you want to wait, then wait for him. I'm leaving first."
After saying that, he strode towards the stairwell.
Thinking that something had happened in class that upset Shi Mu, Fu Xuanliao had no choice but to catch up with him and walk together.
"What's wrong?" Fu Xuanliao asked. "Who made you angry again?"
Shi Mu couldn't stand the word "again": "No, I'm in a great mood."
Fu Xuanliao could easily see through his sarcasm: "Teacher Sun likes you the most in the whole studio. He always gives you a spot in competitions first. Everyone envies you."
"Then why don't they come to see my paintings?" Shi Mu said indignantly. "A bunch of blind fools."
Fu Xuanliao had no answer to this, as he wasn't even a half-baked artist when it came to painting.
All he knew was that Shi Mu was always competitive and wanted to do everything perfectly. He had even skipped a grade to attend high school, although the Shi family had played a part in it.
As a friend, Fu Xuanliao felt he should tell the truth: "Your brother does paint very well, he's especially good at landscapes..."
Fu Xuanliao meant that everyone has their own expertise, and it's normal to fall behind in areas where you're not good at something. Just take it easy. But Shi Mu was even more annoyed: "Don't keep calling him 'your brother.' He wasn't born to my mother, so he's not my brother."
This brings us to another well-known scandal involving the Shi family.
Unlike others, Fu Xuanliao felt that the blame lay with Shi Huaiyi, whom he called uncle, for his improper private life, which had nothing to do with the next generation. However, it was ultimately someone else's business, and he shouldn't interfere. Besides, Shi Mu was currently angry and might not be able to listen to reason.
Fu Xuanliao could only shrug: "Then it's not your brother. Anyway, you two were born on the same day, so it's pretty much the same."
The Shi family and the Fu family had some connections. Fu Xuanliao was born earlier, two years older than Shi Mu and half a year older than Shi Sihui, the eldest daughter of the Shi family. Before the age of ten, the three children always played together. Therefore, Fu Xuanliao often went to the Shi family and regarded it as his second home.
Shi Huaiyi was not home today. Shi Mu's mother, Li Bihan, was not feeling well. When she heard that Fu Xuanliao had come, she only came out to greet him and told him to sit and play as he pleased before going back to her room to rest.
Shi Mu was in a bad mood. As soon as she got home, she went into her bedroom and locked the door, refusing to let anyone in.
The art studio ended early, and Fu Xuanliao did his homework for a while at the outdoor dining table before starting to doze off again.
Since he had nothing else to do, Aunt Fang, the housekeeper of the Shi family, cut some dessert for him. Fu Xuanliao carried the plate to the TV, randomly picked a disc, put it into the Blu-ray player, and went back to the sofa to sit down and watch.
It's a Hong Kong movie from the early 1990s, a big gathering of gangsters, gambling kings, and triads, all fighting, killing, and bickering. It's purely for the nostalgia factor.
Hearing the sound of the front door opening and closing, Fu Xuanliao assumed Shi Sihui had returned and ignored her. It wasn't until he heard Aunt Fang call "Second Young Master" that he turned around.
It turned out that Shi Meng had returned. She moved a stool and sat less than two meters behind Fu Xuanliao, also watching a movie.
To Fu Xuanliao's surprise, a full half hour had passed since he heard the door open, and Shi Meng hadn't made a sound, not even moving a stool.
"The second young master is back." Aunt Fang, who had been in the kitchen, obviously didn't know when he had returned. "Are you hungry? Would you like some fruit?"
Shi Meng shook her head: "I'm not hungry."
Aunt Fang pointed to the sofa: "Why don't you go sit over there?"
Fu Xuanliao patted the seat next to him: "Let's watch together."
Upon hearing this, Meng looked up at him, then lowered her head, seemingly lost in thought. After a long while, she picked up her schoolbag from the floor, stood up, and slowly walked to the sofa.
However, instead of choosing a seat next to Fu Xuanliao, she sat at the very edge of the sofa, putting the two of them further apart.
After watching for a while, Fu Xuanliao handed over the dessert plate: "Want some?"
He was just being polite, thinking he couldn't just keep eating all by himself.
I thought Shi Meng would either just take it or decisively say she wasn't hungry like before, but the child hesitated for a long time, staring at the small cakes on the plate until she was practically bursting with envy, before finally reaching out and picking up the cakes.
She even said "thank you" to Fu Xuanliao in a very soft voice, barely audible.
Fu Xuanliao was both amused and exasperated: "These are your things, why are you thanking me?"
Shi Meng paused for a moment, then lowered her eyelids as if in tacit agreement.
The noise from the speaker drowned out human voices. Fu Xuanliao thought he heard him say "hmm," but then again, he didn't.
Shi Meng ate quietly, taking small bites, her cheeks moving slowly. A few glances from the corner of his eye reminded Fu Xuanliao of a rodent.
I handed him a tissue, and Shi Meng trembled as if startled, looking up with a blank expression.
Fu Xuanliao couldn't help but laugh again, and he overturned his previous analogy, feeling that he was more like a mushroom plant that was used to living in dark and deserted corners.
Afraid that he would say thank you again, Fu Xuanliao asked first, "Is it pretty?"
The question was about a movie, but Shi Meng stared at him for a long time without blinking.
Then he nodded and solemnly replied, "It looks good."
Actually, when it comes to looks, Shi Meng is the most beautiful.
They ate dinner at the same table that evening. Fu Xuanliao looked at Li Bihan and then at Shi Meng, and felt more and more that the two looked alike, especially their eyes, which were slightly upturned and had a bright and beautiful shape. When they didn't speak, they had a cold and aloof air about them. If it weren't for the fact that Shi Mu was Li Bihan's biological son, anyone would have thought that the two were mother and son at first glance.
However, their similar appearances did not change Li Bihan's attitude towards Shi Meng. Since Shi Meng came to this family seven years ago, she has been indifferent to her stepson. Shi Meng has everything that outsiders can see Shi Mu has, but as for things that outsiders cannot see, she cannot force them, and no one has the right to interfere.
For example, at this moment, Li Bihan instructed Aunt Fang to place the soup pot in front of Shi Mu. Before the aroma had even wafted far after the lid was lifted, she took a delicate little bowl, filled it with the first portion of the delicious soup, and placed it in front of Shi Mu, smiling kindly as she urged him to eat more.
As Shi Mu's friend and a guest in his home, Fu Xuanliao was naturally treated with courtesy, and the next bowl was served to him.
“Your Uncle Shi isn’t home today, so there’s no need to be so formal at the dinner table,” Li Bihan said. “What interesting things happened in the studio? Tell us about them.”
Shi Mu gloated as she recounted Fu Xuanliao's embarrassing experience of being punished for failing to skip class. Fu Xuanliao didn't take it seriously, but Li Bihan advised him to focus more on his studies: "Your parents have high expectations for you, don't disappoint them."
Fu Xuanliao nodded in agreement, thinking to himself that family harmony is the primary productive force. Given how loving my parents are, I probably won't be able to take on any major responsibilities for at least a hundred years.
When asked what she had drawn in class that day, Shi Mu fell silent, put down her chopsticks, and refused to eat.
Li Bihan hurriedly asked Aunt Fang to bring out the fruit, which was filled with sliced red dragon fruit. Only then did Shi Mu show a smile.
Although Fu Xuanliao had a sweet tooth, he didn't particularly like this kind of fruit that was actually very high in sugar but didn't taste very sweet. He was only interested in the few strawberries that were garnished on the side of the plate.
As Fu Xuanliao reached for the last piece, he happened to bump into another fork coming from the other side.
Looking up and seeing Shi Meng, Fu Xuanliao immediately stopped, smiled at him, and said, "You eat."
Shi Meng felt embarrassed. She didn't know whether to put the fork away or keep it. After hesitating for a moment, she picked up the last strawberry, bent her arm, and threw it into the plate in front of Fu Xuanliao.
It rained that night, so Fu Xuanliao decided to stay overnight at the Shi family's house.
Shi Mu's room was a suite with a small living room. Aunt Fang took out bedding and quilts and spread them on the sofa, which became a simple guest room.
Young people are full of energy. Fu Xuanliao didn't get to play ball today, so he probably won't be able to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Shi Mu was engrossed in drawing in his room, so it wasn't convenient to disturb him. Fu Xuanliao had to find his own entertainment. He wandered around the kitchen, grabbed a can of beer from the refrigerator, and leisurely carried it up to the attic.
Holding his phone in his other hand, Gao Lecheng was chatting with him on WeChat, saying that there were fewer girls watching from the sidelines today because you weren't there. Fu Xuanliao replied that he wouldn't go tomorrow either. Gao Lecheng understood and said that he knew you liked the one from the Shi family.
As Fu Xuanliao walked toward the room in the attic, he calmly typed a message asking who it was. Before he could get a reply from Gao Lecheng, his foot bumped into something with a loud thud, startling him.
My hand groped haphazardly along the wall, but before I could find anything, I caught a faint voice: "Don't turn on the light."
Recognizing who it was, Fu Xuanliao breathed a sigh of relief and removed his hand from the light switch: "What are you doing here so late?"
After a rustling sound, a person crawled out from under the table. This person was more than half a head shorter than Fu Xuanliao when he stood up, looking up at Fu Xuanliao with his eyes still clear and bright even in the dim light.
After a long pause, Shi Meng finally answered, "Painting."
This answer was both unexpected and reasonable. Although Fu Xuanliao did not understand the Shi brothers' dedication to painting, he did not find it strange that they would find a secluded place to stay late at night.
Since he was a guest in someone else's home, Fu Xuanliao very tactfully turned to leave: "Then I'll go first..."
"Don't go."
Unexpectedly, Shi Meng asked him to stay.
After saying that, Shi Meng seemed to realize something was wrong. He paused for a moment, then said, "It's very cold here."
Fu Xuanliao didn't leave, even though he couldn't figure out the connection between the cold weather and not leaving.
Shi Meng sat down on the stool by the table, hugging her drawing board and continuing to draw. Fu Xuanliao found a place where he wouldn't get in the way, jumped onto the windowsill, pulled open the can, shook the bottle, and heard the sound of countless bubbles bursting and the scratching of the pen tip on the paper.
The rain, too, relentlessly pounded against the ground, glass, and window frames, noisy yet not jarring, even somewhat dull and quiet.
Suddenly remembering that the person in front of him had a name related to rain, Fu Xuanliao casually asked, "What are you drawing?"
Shi Meng paused, holding the charcoal pencil. He seemed surprised that Fu Xuanliao would take the initiative to talk to him. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "I haven't thought about it yet."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Fu Xuanliao chuckled softly.
It was too low, almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. Shi Meng had to prick up her ears and then clearly heard Fu Xuanliao say, "It's already being drawn, but I haven't decided yet... Interesting."
Upon receiving such praise, Shi Meng let out a soft sigh of relief when no one was watching.
He heard Fu Xuanliao drinking beer, and then he heard Fu Xuanliao ask him, "Don't you painters all care a lot about light? That so-and-so, a very famous painter, invented that 'outdoor painting' thing?"
Shi Meng reminded him, "Monet."
“Yes, Monet,” Fu Xuanliao continued, “Aren’t you afraid you won’t be able to see?”
"I'm not afraid," Shi Meng said. "I've never gotten paint on myself."
This irrelevant answer surprised Fu Xuanliao. By the light of a streetlamp shining through the window, he looked Shi Meng up and down.
Unlike the other students in the art studio, who were covered in vibrant colors from head to toe in less than a class, as if they had rolled around in a palette, Shi Meng was untouched by paint or dust from outside the window. His blue and white school uniform had a cool, pure quality on him, as if he had stepped out of a painting.
Sensing a hint of pride in Shi Meng's tone, Fu Xuanliao thought to himself that he was still just a child, and smiled generously, praising him: "Then you are very capable."
Shi Meng pursed her lips: "Thank you."
Fu Xuanliao still smiled and said, "I should thank you for giving me the last strawberry."
Recalling the strawberry incident, Shi Meng lowered her eyes and hummed in agreement, saying, "I know."
Fu Xuanliao asked, puzzled, "Know what?"
This time, almost without a pause, Shi Meng said, "I know you like it."
Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fu Xuanliao took it out and turned on the screen. Gao Lecheng's belated reply read: "The one you're with now."
Fu Xuanliao was taken aback and subconsciously looked at Shi Meng. When the other person also looked up, he hurriedly looked away. Only when he turned back did he feel confused and didn't know what he was feeling guilty about.
Perhaps it was because of Shi Meng's cold gaze that gave people the illusion that they were being seen through.
Fu Xuanliao typed a reply: The person I'm with now is a child.
Thinking that Shi Meng was a kid who liked to follow people around, and that he had just been playing hide-and-seek under the table, Fu Xuanliao breathed a sigh of relief.
The temperature was low at night, and Shi Meng sneezed while painting. Fu Xuanliao jumped down from the windowsill, walked to the other end of the studio, closed the half-closed window, and glanced at Shi Meng's painting as he passed by.
Before he could even make out what the abstract color blocks depicted, Fu Xuanliao was so overwhelmed by the pungent smell of paint that his nose twitched, and he turned away and sneezed.
Sniffing, Fu Xuanliao joked, "I caught it from you."
Shi Meng remained noncommittal, put down his pen, and handed over a tissue.
Fu Xuanliao thanked him and, as he accepted the paintbrush, his gaze swept over Shi Meng's outstretched hand. It was a very beautiful hand, with long, slender fingers, perfectly suited for holding a paintbrush.
In a daze, Fu Xuanliao recalled a hand he had seen cautiously reaching out in the school clinic, yet one that dared not touch.
When I came to my senses, I realized I had been out of my mind. I was half asleep and there was a curtain between us. How could I possibly see anything from just a shadow?
Besides, he wasn't familiar with Shi Meng. Their most recent interaction was probably during a winter camp when he was in his third year of junior high school, when he rescued a lost kid in the deep mountains.
How could it be him?
Thinking this, Fu Xuanliao shook off his inexplicable thoughts and turned to see Shi Meng looking serious, as if he was really at a loss for what to do about infecting others, and couldn't help but smile.
"Just kidding." Fu Xuanliao pointed to the drawing board. "Keep drawing."
Shi Meng opened her clear, bright eyes and looked at Fu Xuanliao for a while to make sure he didn't have a cold before turning back to face the drawing board.
She made two strokes and then stopped. When Shi Meng turned her head, she lowered her eyelids again, her long, thick eyelashes covering the turmoil in her eyes.
He said hesitantly, "Don't look."
"Why can't I look?" Fu Xuanliao said matter-of-factly, "It's not me that's depicted."
Despite saying that, Fu Xuanliao turned back to the windowsill where he had been sitting, picked up a beer can, shook it, and tilted his head back to drink the last sip.
Along with the clattering of empty cans and wooden tables, Shi Meng's clear voice rang out at the age of fifteen.
Do you want to see it?
After swallowing the wine, which had an unpleasantly bitter taste for a young man, Fu Xuanliao was stunned for a moment before blurting out, "Yes."
Uncharacteristically, without hesitation, Shi Meng replied, "Okay."
The rain was still falling, and in the dim light, the two of them each occupied a corner of the attic, spending the most peaceful night between them.
Much later, when Fu Xuanliao recalled that night, he, who did not believe in ghosts and gods, felt a sense that it was preordained.
He asked Shi Meng, "So, back then, you were already planning to paint 'Flame'?"
While Shi Meng was painting, she glanced over, giving him an expression as if she had heard some stupid question.
Fu Xuanliao wasn't sure if the expression meant "nonsense" or "you're dreaming," so he reluctantly shut his mouth.
Later that night, after the passion had ignited, while he was still somewhat dazed and confused, Fu Xuanliao held his chin and asked, "Why did you always hide under the table back then? Was someone bullying you?"
Despite being restrained, Shi Meng still managed to regain the initiative. He raised his limp arm, touched Fu Xuanliao's nose with his fingertips, and said in a uniquely languid voice, "You're the one who bullied me, aren't you?"
Mentioning the past, Fu Xuanliao could hardly help but feel weak. He pursed his lips, bent down, and pulled the person he had almost lost into his arms, whispering "I'm sorry" and "I didn't know" in his ear.
Seventeen-year-old Fu Xuanliao once thought that his relationship with Shi Meng would mostly stop there; they didn't see eye to eye, their personalities didn't align, and their friendship would at most develop into a nodding acquaintance.
Unexpectedly, things took an unexpected turn, and everything went off track.
Because he didn't know that the help he gave so casually, the kindness he released from his heart, had planted a seed that would sprout and grow vigorously for him.
Little did he know that because of his casual remark that he "wanted to see," all the miniature worlds Shi Meng would draw from then on would be filled with his shadow.
The night breeze was strong, and the winds rose and fell.
Noticing the body lying on top of him tremble slightly, Shi Meng let out a soft breath, realizing that he had given up for who knows how many times.
This person can always easily exploit his weaknesses, rendering his hard-won hard heart useless.
With her fingers climbing up Fu Xuanliao's back, Shi Meng hugged him back and whispered in his ear, "Actually, I've been waiting for you."
Even though she was used to being alone, on so many nights when she hid in the dark by herself, Shi Meng had longed for another person to appear and make the paused time start flowing again.
After a rustling sound, a large, warm hand firmly grasped Shi Meng's hand, which was hanging limply at her side.
Just like that night many years ago, the boy stretched a hand under the table, palm up, and said to him, "There's no one here. Come out quickly, aren't you cold in there?"
Despite the hustle and bustle around him, Shi Meng was always forgetful.
After all that happened later, he only clearly remembered that Fu Xuanliao had a handsome face with a captivating gaze when he was young. At that time, his peach blossom eyes were slightly upturned, revealing a slightly playful smile.
Just like the blazing, warm sun outside.
A note from the author:
A lot has happened in the past two months, I apologize for being late.
There's also a side story that follows directly from the main story's timeline, and it's supposed to be sweet (I think).
Then there's the parallel world side story, which might be quite long. I promised to release a free side story as a bonus, so it won't be available for purchase.
I know many people will feel sorry for Mengmeng after reading this, but I personally believe that true love is like this: it doesn't know where it starts, and it's impossible to compare how much is given. No matter how much it goes through, as long as the person in it feels happy, that's enough.
The above are merely my personal opinions. As the author, I respect all different interpretations.
In conclusion, thank you all for enjoying this article. Wishing you good health and happiness every day!
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