Chapter 51 Chapter 51 A new husband appears, gogo...
“Who?
"Evander asked doubtfully, his hand resting on the titanium metal frame with thin silver edges. As he lifted it up gently, a lavender figure flashed across the lens, but this color was quickly and deliberately erased by Evander.
Evander was completely different from the light-colored, soft outfit he wore as the househusband the night before. He was like a completely different person.
He chose large areas of matte earth-toned fabric. The clothing was cut with a clean yet relaxed silhouette, and there wasn't a single logo on it, yet the top-grade cashmere fabric offered a subtle, luxurious feel.
A pair of titanium glasses with thin silver frames rests on his high nose bridge, matching the high intelligence and quiet luxury that Evander exudes from the inside out.
As for Samuel.
He is still a flamboyant male peacock, with luxury watches and brand names piled up everywhere in his outfit, and logos can be seen everywhere.
But perhaps because these things are commonplace to Samuel, the sheer volume of frills and bells and whistles creates an air of extreme relaxed refinement. Samuel can handle frills with ease, and his handsomeness is effortless.
The invisible smoke of war between the two people seemed to have started their secret competition from the way they dressed.
Samuel even lowered his head to check his outfit, and only started to reply after confirming that he was not inferior to Evander.
Samuel used broken Chinese, word by word, and squeezed out three words from between his teeth:
"He Songfeng."
Samuel hadn't pronounced He Songfeng's Chinese name for so long that he found it very difficult to pronounce just three words.
In sharp contrast, Evander also repeated these three words very standardly, with the pronunciation, tone, stress and even rhythm exactly the same as that of a Chinese person.
"He Songfeng..."
Evander was thoughtful for a moment, then he fixed his gaze steadily on Samuel.
"Are you a student of the school?" Evander asked bluntly, without any honorifics, as if he was asking a question.
Samuel's face darkened, and his bright and handsome face like an archangel suddenly became gloomy, and the black eyes hidden under his brows looked at him with sympathy.
Samuel held the student list in his left hand. With a flick of his wrist, the paper made a muffled rustling sound like a beast running through the bushes.
"Evander, you know why I'm here."
It was at this time that He Songfeng realized that every move of these two people revealed that they were old acquaintances.
Samuel knew Evander's full name and called him by it without hesitation.
Evander was calm in front of Samuel, without any fear or flattery, and was already accustomed to Samuel's arrogance.
The two people stood there, as if reminiscing about the past.
But beneath the superficial decency lies an irreconcilable tit-for-tat confrontation.
Evander took the lead and decisively rejected Samuel's request, saying bluntly, "A student's identity is a private matter. I don't need to tell you anything about He Songfeng."
At the same time, Evander's eyes suddenly raised, looking over Samuel's shoulder and behind him.
"If you are friends with He Songfeng, then I believe that if you ask him questions, he will definitely answer them for you."
Samuel tore the student list in his hand into two halves and threw it on the ground. At the same time, he glanced behind him and laughed:
"Hahaha, thank you for your teachings. You are indeed worthy of being a professor."
Evander tapped his fingers on the table, making a dull wooden sound. He then looked towards the door frame of the studio and sternly reprimanded the beautiful woman in the painting, who was framed there:
"Student He Songfeng, you're late. The class has already started five minutes ago. I will take this into account in your evaluation. Having a good sense of time is what makes a responsible and excellent student."
The scolding was not over yet. Evander naturally extended the lecture to the students hiding behind He Songfeng, "And the ones behind you, I will write down their names one by one."
"well--!"
The students behind He Songfeng let out a long, small wail. They thought the professor would soften his heart when he saw He Songfeng and forgive them.
"I've told you before, Professor Evander is a very strict man. It's all your fault for taking so long to get up. You have to buy me lunch."
"Sorry, I forgot that Professor Evander's class is today. If I had known it was him, I would definitely be the first one to get up."
The complaining voice bypassed He Songfeng and went into the studio.
He Songfeng held the handbag in both hands, folded it in front of him, and bowed slightly forward. He also nodded slightly to Evander and apologized politely:
"I'm so sorry, Professor Evander."
While picking up waste paper from the ground, Ivander bowed and nodded to He Songfeng subtly.
At the same time, he calmly continued the conversation: "Class is starting. Please return to your seat."
He Songfeng gave Samuel a faint smile, and when he walked past Samuel, he paused and whispered happily, "Good morning, Mr. Samuel."
Samuel looked at He Songfeng expressionlessly, and suddenly revealed a sharp smile.
Without giving He Songfeng any time to perform, Samuel pinched his arm and forcefully took him away.
The innocence on her face suddenly turned into panic, and she begged for mercy in a trembling voice: "Mr. Samuel! You pinched me so hard!"
The pinch didn't hurt, he just didn't want to go with Samuel.
After shouting this, he hurriedly cast a pitiful look at Evander, asking for help.
Evander is such a soft-hearted and kind-hearted person.
"This is my student. I will not allow you to take him away without permission." Evander put his hand on Samuel's shoulder and his attitude was tough.
He didn't even choose to compete with Samuel for the control of He Songfeng, but faced the problem itself and dealt with Samuel as a person.
Samuel's steps to leave were abruptly stopped.
"If you have any questions, please wait until the class is over before resolving them."
Evander glanced at the clock on the studio wall. "If you insist on taking my student away, I will call security immediately."
"……pain."
He Songfeng pleaded with Samuel pitifully: "Sir, I will take the initiative to meet you after the course is over."
Samuel raised his hand.
He Songfeng had been hit by Cheng Yiliao before. The bloody bruises that flowed out in front of everyone at that time still left a fearful mark on his heart. He Songfeng subconsciously wanted to hide, and an expression of fear could not be controlled on his face.
He Songfeng shrank back completely.
Samuel raised his hand and stroked the loose hair on He Songfeng's temples, telling He Songfeng with his actions that he just wanted to help him tidy up his hair.
"Why are you afraid of me? Angel, I don't have any bad intentions."
"I have a gift for you."
Samuel said.
At the same time, He Songfeng felt a light coolness on his hand, and he lowered his head and took a quick glance.
It is Van Cleef & Arpels' most classic model - the red five-flower bracelet.
Five red chalcedony four-leaf clovers, as deep as blood, were pressed tightly against He Songfeng's pale skin.
Soon it took on its owner's shyness, half-hiding under the crystal dial.
The fear on He Songfeng's face finally dissipated. He lowered his head, crossed his left hand in front of his body, and covered his right arm. He lowered his head and said in a muffled voice, "Mr. Samuel, you are so considerate."
After confirming that He Songfeng was not in danger, Ivander restrained his impolite attitude.
He ignored the two people in front of him, walked into the back of the studio, and began to instruct the precautions for the first class this morning.
But Ivander couldn't completely ignore He Songfeng. His eyes would always subconsciously drift towards He Songfeng at the door.
Samuel lifted He Songfeng's chin, and He Songfeng closed his eyes and waited obediently for the kiss.
But Samuel just chuckled and said, "See you after class."
Samuel left.
Evander came over and closed the door.
He Songfeng raised his hand and passed the kiss he had not left on the Van Cleef & Arpels on his wrist.
He Songfeng lowered his head and then raised his head.
Evander did not leave. He took the opportunity of closing the door to stop in front of He Songfeng.
"My family and his family are old friends. He is not a good choice."
Evander reminded He Songfeng.
He Songfeng blinked his innocent eyes, leaned forward, raised his head and approached Evander, and whispered intimately in a gesture that was almost asking for a kiss:
"Professor, do you want to have an affair with me?"
Evander's face flushed red, redder than the Van Cleef & Arpels red five-flowered necklace on He Songfeng's wrist, and even redder than the carnelian.
He took several steps back, clenched his fists to cover his lips, lowered his head and coughed shamefully.
Only then did He Songfeng realize that Evander was a truly honorable gentleman. His warning to He Songfeng was truly a kind reminder from the perspective of a teacher and friend.
Rather than an invitation to cheating sex.
After realizing this, He Songfeng immediately lost all interest in Evander.
He calmly walked into the center of the studio, quickly asked his classmates about the course topic, decided on the first portrait sketch, and then brought a chair and sat down.
On the other side, Ivander drank water to calm down, but the look he gave He Songfeng was not as innocent as He Songfeng thought.
Not just friends, but a love that goes beyond friends.
But the cold metal on the bridge of his nose was like a cage, locking his desires with the word "decent".
He Songfeng is his student and his friend's lover.
It is neither reasonable nor moral for Ivander to have any thoughts about He Songfeng. This is a very morally corrupt thing to do.
He Songfeng sat in the center of the studio, also the center of the crowd and the center of sight.
Evander walked around He Songfeng and took out a small timer from his briefcase. "Sketch practice. Sketch a portrait in fifteen minutes. Start the timer."
After that, with a click, time began to move.
In the studio, the student commotion created by Samuel was easily suppressed by Evander's timer. Everyone was only concerned with the tight schedule of the "fifteen minutes" and didn't even have time to complain to them.
"This composition is good, I'll take a picture of it."
The dark black lens was aimed at He Songfeng.
He Songfeng's hanging hands suddenly clenched, firmly gripping the edge of the chair.
His wrists trembled uneasily, his breathing quickened, and cold sweat gathered at his temples and rolled down.
He Songfeng's head drooped blankly like a puppet with its strings cut, avoiding the camera in front of him that was staring at him.
His memories were hopelessly immersed in the secret photos of his ex-boyfriend.
His life began to fall apart from there.
He Songfeng's back began to feel uneasy.
Evander appeared in front of He Songfeng. He crumpled up a piece of student artwork that he had just torn up, smashed it on the head of the student taking the photo, and shouted a stern warning:
“Put away your photography tools and paint with your feelings and emotions. Painting is about expression, not mechanical reproduction.”
Evander suddenly uttered a warning that didn't make sense: "Keep your composure."
The students took it as a reminder for their own drawings, and became more alert. Even the rustling sound of pencils became orderly.
He Songfeng murmured "hmm" softly behind Ivander.
This storm came quickly and left quickly.
When He Songfeng thought of Ivander's reassuring and stern attitude just now, his emotions quickly calmed down. He didn't have to worry about the camera popping up at any time.
After completing his inspection, Ivander stopped diagonally behind He Songfeng. He also picked up paper and pen, and under the pretext of sketching, he expressed his thorough appreciation for He Songfeng.
Fifteen minutes passed quickly, and the timer beeped, interrupting the rustling of the brush.
Ivander took out the timer and pressed it. At the reminder of the students, He Songfeng changed his posture and soon the second timing began.
The sketching course lasted for three hours. He Songfeng took several breaks and chatted with the students in the crowd. Some students even gave him paper and pen so that he could try sketching.
He Songfeng is from the art department, but "art history" and the skill of "painting" are not related. Art history is about appreciating art, not creating art.
Therefore, the portraits drawn by He Songfeng are crooked and distorted, without any logic, and are even worse than those of children.
"Laugh, I won't be angry."
He Songfeng reminded.
So his deconstructionist portrait with distorted perspective and no structure was met with laughter from the audience, but it was not a mockery, but more like a joke among friends.
He Songfeng pretended to be angry and complained: "I don't know how to do it, and you don't even know how to teach me!"
Ivander's hand suddenly reached out from behind He Songfeng, grabbed He Songfeng's hand, and pressed it straight against the paper.
He Songfeng looked back in surprise, but found that Evander was not looking at him, but looked past him at the student in front of him who was acting as a model.
Under Ivander's guidance, He Songfeng's clumsy painting skills improved by leaps and bounds. In just one minute, he sketched out a realistic and accurate draft. The picture was extremely stable, and each line appeared calmly and restrainedly in the position where it should be. Although it was a draft, it did not make people feel impetuous or messy at all.
The other students have all gathered around and are watching the professor's demonstration attentively.
He Songfeng's eyes also turned to admiration. Ivander not only cooks delicious food but is also a great painter.
He began to think that his presence disturbed Evander's demonstration, and just as he was about to interrupt, he was stopped by his classmates' booing.
“The professor’s demonstration is very rare!”
Another three minutes passed.
Whether the painting is good or not is another matter, but the image on the paper looks less and less like the model herself. She has become much thinner for no reason. If she changes her hairstyle, she will be like—
The students all looked at He Songfeng.
Yes, Evander was not painting a student who was acting as a model in front of the painting. He was painting the He Songfeng that remained in his mind.
"professor."
He Songfeng finally interrupted and forcefully withdrew his hand, making room: "Professor, please sit down and demonstrate."
He Songfeng's departure finally woke Ivander from his trance as if he had just woken up from a dream.
He looked at the drawing paper in front of him, then at the model facing him. He frowned in surprise, and quickly filled in the details on the draft in shock. With a few hurried strokes, the painting became more and more messy, less and less like a model, and more like a love letter that was trying to cover up its true nature.
Eventually, Evander accepted the truth.
His mind is now full of He Songfeng. The wind is wind, the water is wind, and the mountain is still wind.
The image of He Songfeng remained completely in his retina and could not be dispelled for a long time, seriously interfering with his painting.
"Rest for five more minutes."
Evander threw down his paintbrush and hurried away, going to the corner to stare at the fallen leaves outside the window, forcing himself to empty his mind until the touch of lavender purple was completely banished from his thoughts.
He began to sigh, fortunately today's class was just sketching, not portrait oil painting, otherwise his clothes and skin would be left with the color of He Songfeng, leaving a lavender purple mark.
He took off the titanium glasses on his nose and began to wipe them mechanically repeatedly. This action lasted for a full five minutes.
He kept telling himself that this was wrong, that He Songfeng was Samuel's lover and he couldn't covet her.
Ivander turned his head and found He Songfeng standing beside him, looking at him curiously.
Evander was so scared that his wrist shook and he quickly put his glasses back on. His ears turned red again and soon the red spread quickly to his cheeks.
"Professor, the time has come. They sent me to inform you."
After He Songfeng finished speaking, he returned to the center of the studio and struck a pose.
Evander also walked over.
Every time he looked at the painting of the student next to him, the student's expression froze visibly, and his hands rubbed together and twisted in fear.
Suddenly, he stopped.
He found that this position allowed him to sneak a peek at He Songfeng from the side with his peripheral vision.
It was a pity for the student sitting in this position. His face had turned a half-dead gray-green color, his soul had flown away in fear, and only a walking corpse was left.
"The composition is terrible, the modeling is messy, and the spirit and form are extremely poor. Student, if you have such an attitude towards learning, then I don't think you need to take the final exam at the end of the year."
Evander's pencil drew a big cross on the paper in front of him, indicating that the students could tear it up and start over.
As the youngest professor in the college, Evander is famous for his seriousness and high standards. When his students see him, they are like wild dogs seeing a wolf, and they would like to run away with their tails between their legs.
He Songfeng was attracted by the sound, and unfortunately, he just caught Evander's peeking glance.
Ivander saw He Songfeng's admiration for him, which was pure admiration of a student for his teacher's superb skills, not love.
The sense of guilt that Ivander had suppressed with great difficulty suddenly rose to his throat again.
He nervously took off his glasses and began to wipe them non-stop.
Rub, rub, rub——
Rub——
"Evander, you're his professor."
"No, and we cannot comfortably distort students' admiration into love."
Evander——
keep Calm,
Keep your distance.
The timer sounded a warning, another fifteen minutes.
But this is the last fifteen minutes.
He Songfeng adjusted his direction and faced Ivander.
The arms of Evander's glasses were nearly broken by his rubbing, and the redness of his ears never faded.
He even had a very bad idea. Was He Songfeng deliberately teasing him?
He Songfeng cast an even stronger look of admiration at Ivander. He looked innocent and smiled faintly with his lips pursed.
Evander quickly dismissed this thought and scolded himself for making such casual assumptions about others.
Ivander's feeling was not wrong, all of this was done on purpose by He Songfeng.
Being a model is so boring, I always have to find some fun.
He Songfeng didn't take Ivander's feelings to heart. After class, he packed his bag and prepared to leave as if nothing had happened.
But after taking only two steps, He Songfeng suddenly turned back and appeared beside Ivander.
"Professor...?" He Songfeng called softly.
Evander caught it immediately and responded promptly: "How can I help you?"
He Songfeng clenched his hands into fists and placed them on his heart, praying, "Um... can you give me the painting you drew?"
Evander was flattered. He took down the portrait sketch on the drawing board and handed it directly to He Songfeng: "Of course, there is already a copy for you here."
He Songfeng took the sketch paper, simply thanked him, turned around and ran out in a hurry.
Evander watched him leave, and was called back to life by another student's "professor". Evander took off his glasses, held them in his hand and began to wipe them again.
He Songfeng folded the sketch paper into his pocket, walked out, and walked straight again. He saw Samuel and his exaggerated sports car - Mercedes-Benz SL63 - on the side of the road.
It is not a two-door, two-seater sports car, but a two-door, four-seater car. Behind the driver and co-driver seats, there is a row of seats as narrow as single beds.
Samuel leaned against the car, the impatience on his face showing through like the lighter that kept rubbing in his hand.
"Mr. Samuel, are you waiting for me?"
He Songfeng folded his hands neatly in front of him, holding his handbag, and stood in front of Samuel.
The impatience on Samuel's face was extinguished along with the flame as the lid of the lighter closed the moment he saw He Songfeng.
He took the bag from He Songfeng and put it on the car seat. He knocked on the door twice and said, "Angel, get in."
He Songfeng shook his head, "No, I have classes in the afternoon, Mr. Samuel in the evening."
Samuel put his arm around He Songfeng's waist and pulled him into his arms, "Just eat."
"Really?"
“If you want…” Samuel’s hand slid down, positioning it precisely.
He Songfeng was startled and quickly covered Samuel's lips with both hands, "Don't say those words outside!"
He Songfeng's fingers rubbed Samuel's lips ambiguously, and he leaned against his chest tenderly, humming a series of coquettish words from his nose:
"As long as I don't miss the afternoon classes, I will follow Mr. Samuel's arrangements."
The car door opened and closed, and due to the cooling, the sports car did not turn on the convertible mode.
He Songfeng took out his computer from his handbag and continued the polishing that he had not completed the night before.
The wheels stopped and He Songfeng looked up, waiting for the red light.
He Songfeng closed the computer and turned off the car audio. Under Samuel's puzzled eyes, he took out a piece of paper from his pocket and complained softly:
"You don't care what I draw or learn. You just want to eat, sleep and make love with me."
Samuel was fooled by this and immediately put on an annoyed look.
"I'm awfully sorry. Do ive me. Angel."
He Songfeng unfolded the drawing paper in his hand, showed Samuel the exquisite draft briefly, and then quickly tore it into pieces and threw them away, causing the entire carriage to rain down paper.
He Songfeng looked straight at Samuel through the fine scraps of paper, blaming him for his neglect with a resentful look.
While saying sorry, Samuel reached across the center console and gently picked up the scraps of paper from He Songfeng's hair.
He saw that each of these fragments had clear brushstrokes on them, which was enough to prove that He Songfeng was indeed taking classes in the oil painting department classroom today.
The red light turns green.
Finally, Samuel put his hand around He Songfeng's neck and pushed him towards himself. He kissed and bit He Songfeng's lower lip, and bit off the piece of paper stuck to the corner of He Songfeng's mouth.
"Forgive me."
Samuel didn't intend to hear He Songfeng's forgiveness. He didn't care. He was more enjoying He Songfeng's coquettishness.
Even the apology, which should have been heavy, became light in the conversation.
The street scene outside the car window flew backwards, and He Songfeng focused his attention on the Van Cleef & Arpels carnelian bracelet on his wrist.
His anger and resentment were specially performed for Samuel, and when Samuel was satisfied, he restrained his emotions.
As a pair, they each get what they want without any internal friction.
Not asking for any true love, just asking to meet needs.
This is also a match in another sense.
The vehicle finally stopped in front of an art exhibition hall in the city center. It was not a public art gallery, and the private owner generously showed off the high-priced collections from the auction house, demonstrating his family's exaggerated financial strength to passers-by, which was also one of the social chips.
People who come here don't just appreciate the art, but appreciate the sky-high price digital label in the lower right corner of the artwork.
But the vehicle started up quickly again and drove towards the most prosperous commercial district in the city center.
For Samuel's unknown motives, He Songfeng's hair was dyed platinum blonde, combed again, and tied into a lazy loose bun at the back of her head.
He Songfeng didn't ask and immediately entered another luxury clothing store, but there were far more than one store coming in. Several store managers and models stood side by side and quickly selected suitable clothes for He Songfeng.
When He Songfeng was changing clothes, Samuel sat on the sofa in front of him, looking up at him with interest.
He Songfeng pulled up and took off his pullover sweatshirt by himself, and the buttons of his shirt were gradually opening. His white and almost transparent skin was exposed more and more, like the sudden appearance of daylight, which made Samuel's eyes widen.
Samuel took the naked He Songfeng into his arms and began to kiss, caress and knead him.
Play with it at will.
Samuel lifted up the loose hair behind He Songfeng's head and smelled it intoxicatedly.
"You are now the angel in the myth."
Samuel's hands suddenly cupped He Songfeng's cheeks, completely ignoring the awkward body underneath, and forcibly lifted He Songfeng's head to the level of his eye level.
The morbid admiration in Samuel's eyes grew stronger, almost burning He Songfeng's skin into dry charcoal.
"Innocent face, pure soul, naked body."
He Songfeng's tears cooperatively dripped onto Samuel's fingertips, and an embarrassing moan came out of his throat, and he meekly indulged Samuel's violence.
Samuel's evaluation of him is: "Innocent... and pitiful, what a lustful Angel."
He Songfeng was kneaded into Samuel's arms.
The look in Samuel's eyes when he looked at He Songfeng was love, absolutely true.
He was madly in love with He Songfeng's blonde hair, his body, and even more so, his fake soul that read as incompetent while writing about him purely.
By the time He Songfeng returned to the car, his clothes had changed to a thin cashmere vest with a pure white shirt. The sleeves were cut from tight to loose, and the hanging cuffs were opened and rolled up, turning into the puff sleeves of a medieval aristocrat. He wore a serious pure black bow tie on his chest.
Samuel was very satisfied with his doll's new look. He got in the car and hugged He Songfeng and kissed him. He said with satisfaction: "When I first saw you, I thought you dyed your hair golden. You really are an angel..."
He Songfeng rubbed his lips which were swollen from kissing, and knocked Samuel's shoulder lightly with his fist, scolding him for indulging in lust.
Samuel sighed: "My angel."
The emphasis is on “my,” not “angel.”
He Songfeng hasn't eaten yet, but judging by the situation, it's not just a problem of eating; he might not be able to attend his afternoon classes either.
After some hesitation, I finally expressed my concerns:
"Mr. Samuel, my afternoon class..."
"Shh..."
Samuel didn't allow He Songfeng to ruin the atmosphere.
He Songfeng snorted helplessly with a slight grumble of resentment.
When Samuel was driving, in order to express his emotions, he turned his back to Samuel, leaned on the window, and looked at the trees and steps on the roadside boredly.
He Songfeng returned to the art exhibition hall. Samuel got out of the car and threw the car keys to the manager who came to greet him. He walked around the car and pulled He Songfeng out.
Samuel pulled He Songfeng to the center of the crowd and took the initiative to greet the mature man in the center of the social circle.
"Uncle Lambert, you're finally back from your vacation. My mother has always been thinking about you and wants to invite you to have afternoon tea."
The man named Lambert, a mature mixed-race man, looks similar to Samuel, but gives people two completely different feelings.
If Samuel and Lambert were compared to wine.
Samuel is a dangerous Four Loco, containing high levels of caffeine, alcohol, and excitement. Lambert, on the other hand, is a mellow red wine, becoming more mature and richer after years of decanting.
“My uncle is one of the top collectors in the United States. If you make friends with him, even if you just draw a line, you will become the best, youngest and most beautiful artist in the United States.”
Samuel put his right arm around He Songfeng's waist and lowered his voice in his ear.
He Songfeng stepped forward and introduced himself, but Lambert just glanced at him calmly, turned around and walked to the other side to communicate with the person he thought was worthy of him.
But obviously, Lambert is not interested in He Songfeng.
Even look down on it.
He Songfeng's hand was awkwardly suspended in the air.
When he took it back, the corners of his mouth drooped unhappily.
This was the first time that He Songfeng's charm failed. In the past, even if someone didn't like him, they would still stay on him for a few more minutes because of his face.
Samuel rubbed the corner of He Songfeng's mouth, smoothed it out, and comforted him: "My uncle is a good man, I will help you, you will definitely become the most authoritative celebrity artist in this city, or even in the world."
He Songfeng nodded and agreed: "Then it will add brilliance to you."
Samuel laughed and bluntly belittled He Songfeng: "Yes, the most important thing for you now is to be worthy of me."
The reason why Samuel lifted up He Songfeng was so harsh, it was simply because He Songfeng's current status was not worthy of him.
The small talk lasted about fifteen minutes, then the exchange faded and the show took its place.
A Baroque fashion show is being held on the spiral staircase in the hall. The music is soothing and tall models are walking down the stairs slowly with expressionless faces. The clothes are cut in an exaggerated way and made of bold materials. It is a very avant-garde show.
He Songfeng and Samuel sat in the front row and could see all the details of the clothes directly.
He Songfeng's attention was not on the clothes, but on the scene layout and visual design.
The audience's attention was not only on the clothes, but also on the special beauty next to Mr. Samuel.
He Songfeng's appearance has already become well-known in the city's vanity fair circle. This is the first time he appeared with blonde hair, which attracted more curious and admiring eyes.
When the fashion magazine's camera was pointed at him, He Songfeng was startled by the sound of a click, and his cervical vertebrae seemed to be pulled out of his flesh. He completely collapsed in Samuel's arms, trembling.
Samuel stroked He Songfeng's golden hair, but failed to alleviate He Songfeng's trembling.
Samuel skillfully took off his coat and covered his cute little pet, who was easily stressed. He patted it gently and whispered soothingly: "It's just taking pictures... It's just taking pictures..."
Others gave him puzzled looks.
Samuel shrugged fondly and explained, "Angel is a very easily frightened little rabbit. The sound of a camera shutter can make him breathless and even dizzy."
After hearing this, the people around him sighed with pity: "Poor Angel."
Poor Angel.
The fashion show lasted for about an hour. During this period, He Songfeng was both afraid and eager to watch it because of his major in art history. He was trembling with fear, endured the strong feeling of nausea, and gritted his teeth to watch it to the end.
After reading it, he thought that he had a plan for his next academic year paper and roughly understood what preparations were needed to prepare an exhibition.
After the show, there was a long period of greetings, with people holding a glass of wine and going from here to there to greet everyone.
Samuel holds a high position in the world of Vanity Fair. Only a few elderly and high-ranking elders require his proactive greetings. At other times, others accompany Samuel to build closer relationships with them.
He Songfeng just held Samuel's arm and smiled faintly.
I heard those people praising Angel’s beauty and gentleness, and praising Samuel’s good judgment and ability to train people.
It’s a pity that Mr. Lambert is no longer here, and He Songfeng feels a little lost.
A waiter appeared quietly beside Samuel and whispered a few words to him.
Samuel restrained his expression and immediately helped He Songfeng walk out.
Get in the car again.
He Songfeng once again boredly counted how many trees flashed before his eyes.
When He Songfeng counted to the 328th, the car stopped outside a high-end Japanese restaurant.
This restaurant requires reservations three days in advance and is a membership-only restaurant. Guests are also required to change clothes before dining.
He Songfeng was invited into the locker room, muttering to himself that he had a lot of things to do. While he was busy muttering, he ignored the icon of the women's locker room above his head.
By the time He Songfeng reacted, he was already dressed.
The light purple kimono is patterned with many white geometric shapes, interspersed with short straight lines, blooming at the hem like fireworks.
The waiter who was responsible for dressing up He Songfeng specially brought a bunch of huge wisteria flowers to decorate He Songfeng's light golden hairband.
He Songfeng waved his hands again and again in despair to refuse, and firmly stated that he was a male, a boy, and a man.
As a result, the other party directly replied in obscure Japanese English: Sorry, I don’t speak English.
Kills the entire conversation.
The sky in He Songfeng's world collapsed.
He could accept being objectified and manipulated, but he could never accept changing from a boy to a girl.
He felt awkward for a long time, looking at the beautiful girl in the mirror, and then walked out of the locker room embarrassedly at Samuel's urging outside the wooden sliding door.
Due to the waist and hip design of the kimono, He Songfeng couldn't even walk freely and could only move in front of Samuel with small steps.
He tugged at the wide cuffs of Samuel's black short coat and kimono and began to tell tales: "Mr. Samuel, that waiter forced me to wear this dress on the pretext that he didn't understand English. It was really abominable."
Samuel's ears were selectively deaf. He pinched He Songfeng's chin, sighing and unable to say a word, just clicking his tongue.
After his lips were dry from clicking, he finally squeezed out a worried word from his throat:
"Angel, I'm starting to worry about you being snatched away by Uncle Lambert."
Samuel escorted He Songfeng to the dining place, and someone opened the wooden door for them and invited them in.
The mature man who had already taken his seat looked up, his eyes first fixed on the pretty face swept by the falling wisteria flowers, and then on his nephew Samuel.
Samuel's worries were not unfounded.
Because Lambert's eyes have already started to grow on He Songfeng, and Samuel is a junior, the other party's coveting can even be put on the table.
With Samuel present, He Songfeng didn't dare to respond and just hid behind him shyly.
He didn't move until Samuel took his arm and gestured for him to sit down.
In Samuel's discipline, Angel only needs to sit properly at the dinner table, fold her hands on her knees, lower her head slightly, and be a flawless beauty to be shown off by her master.
There is no reason why a well-trained beauty would not be a hot commodity.
The mature man opposite took the initiative to extend a friendly greeting to He Songfeng. He said in fluent Chinese:
"You can call me Lambert, but my Chinese name is Dou Mingxu."
He Songfeng did not respond, but turned his head to wait for his master's order.
Samuel realized something was wrong.
Why are you specifically using Chinese? I don't understand. Are you saying something dangerous?
He had already begun to regret bringing He Songfeng to see Uncle Lambert.
He was afraid that the end result of showing off too much would be that the bird in the golden cage would be forcibly pried open and abducted.
Samuel took the outstretched hand on behalf of He Songfeng and directly pushed back the kindness: "Uncle, this is my boyfriend Angel, who you met not long ago."
Dou Mingxu repeated "Angel" and looked at He Songfeng meaningfully.
Samuel did not allow his uncle to be selectively deaf and emphasized the point again: "Yes, Angel is my boyfriend."
The wisteria flowers beside He Songfeng's ears swayed lightly, and his eyes began to move restlessly.
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