CH 85

The images on the screen continued to move forward relentlessly, changing one after another. Young people, women, and elderly individuals—distinctive figures appeared and disappeared one by one from the screen, eventually all turning into shadows under the artist’s brush.

The artist’s obsession in his eyes grew as time went on. The modest studio seemed to bear all his desires and madness. With each shift of the camera, the models on the stage and the characters on the canvas interacted, creating an illusion in the dim light that made it difficult to distinguish between reality and artwork.

After being with Qi Yanbai, Lu Ye had gained some understanding of the art world, having attended a few art exhibitions. However, this was his first time witnessing an “artist” and a “work” from this perspective.

The camera acted like a god-like perspective detached from the real world, showcasing the artist’s madness alongside his artistry.

“Do all you painters act like this?” Lu Ye suddenly asked, “Is it necessary to become passionate to the point of obsession to create good art?”

“Partly,” Qi Yanbai leaned against him, enjoying the rare quiet moment. His mind was blank, and he replied casually, “Artworks themselves are reflections of creativity and imagination. Crazy people can create more and better works because their thinking is broader than that of normal people. They can break boundaries and produce more creative things.”

Qi Yanbai paused for a moment and continued, “For example, do you remember the art exhibition we once attended?”

“Of course, I remember,” Lu Ye replied.

It was the turning point in their relationship and the beginning of Lu Ye delving into Qi Yanbai’s true inner self. He couldn’t forget it.

“In Qi Zhe’s exhibition, there was a large oil painting called ‘Journey to the Underworld,'” Qi Yanbai said. “It was about two meters tall and had a black and red background.”

“You mean that flashy one that looked like a horror movie poster?” Lu Ye chimed in.

His description unexpectedly hit Qi Yanbai’s funny bone, and he chuckled, nodding his head.

“The author of that painting is someone you’ve met,” Qi Yanbai said, pausing for a moment before adding, “It’s Elvis.”

Lu Ye: “…”

Lu Ye, the police officer, still associated Elvis with the drug-addicted, mentally unstable person he had met. It wasn’t until Qi Yanbai mentioned it that he realized Elvis was actually a painter on par with Qi Yanbai.

Qi Yanbai had always had a complicated relationship with Elvis, but he couldn’t deny that Elvis’s madness and indulgence were the sources of his creativity. He could always respond to his work with the fullest of emotions—whether it was excitement or negativity, his style was always vibrant and almost distorted.

“And there’s the white rose painting you once saw,” Qi Yanbai continued, “That was painted by my so-called sister.”

There were no more secrets left in front of Lu Ye, so when Qi Yanbai talked about his family, he appeared quite calm. He spoke in a natural and even tone, accompanied by the faint crackling of the background music.

“She’s different from us. She never pays attention to anyone or talks to anyone. Most of the time, she locks herself in her room, painting her own works,” Qi Yanbai explained.

“Doesn’t she find it boring?” Lu Ye asked.

“No,” Qi Yanbai replied. “Her inner world is richer than ours. She ignores us because she has a more colorful virtual world—her imagination is enough to sustain her, and she doesn’t need to seek solace from reality.”

Come to think of it, Lu Ye thought, being able to live under the Qi family’s roof required a certain level of toughness.

The movie was nearing its end. The aura inside the movie became tense and stifling, as if silently foreshadowing the climax.

Qi Yanbai’s gaze was fixed on the screen, but his attention was not on the movie. He touched Lu Ye’s slightly cold fingertips and suddenly smiled.

“I used to work hard at learning how to paint when I was a child, competing with my siblings for Qi Zhe’s favor, resources, and money,” Qi Yanbai said. “At first, I didn’t think it was difficult, but as I grew older, the competition became more challenging.”

“At that time, Qi Zhe always said my works lacked craftsmanship and spirit, that they were too restrained and rigid,” Qi Yanbai continued. “I didn’t understand it at first, so I struggled and even developed some inner demons. But later on, I gradually understood that he was right.”

A natural-born painter had to be either extremely focused or completely crazy, and Qi Yanbai was in between, unable to fully dedicate himself to painting or let himself go completely mad.

“I don’t have the talent of an artist, so my inspiration was destined to dry up,” Qi Yanbai said. “My career as an artist should have ended after that day, but it was only after I met you that I regained my ability to paint.”

This sounded like a subtle confession, and Lu Ye’s heart softened. He felt that this statement was more impactful than all the countless confessions Qi Yanbai had made before.

“Not really,” Lu Ye turned to look at him and said casually, “I don’t think you’re any worse than them. It’s just that you need different things from them.”

Perhaps artists are always different from ordinary people; they always need something as creative fuel. For example, Elvis needs madness, Qi Yanbai’s so-called sister needs an undisturbed fantasy world, and Qi Yanbai needs love.

He needs warmth, love, and all the beauty and tolerance in the world. But Qi Zhe couldn’t give him that, and neither could Ashley. So he could only wait for inspiration to dry up until he met someone willing to nourish him.

The movie on the screen finally came to an end, and all the inspiration and creativity turned into a sharp knife, with the artist burying himself while leaving a striking bloodstain on the canvas.

Since it was an unapproved recording, there were no credits at the end of the film. When it reached the final scene, the screen suddenly froze in place, and two images appeared above and below the screen, as if framing a still painting.

The movie had ended abruptly, and Qi Yanbai was still a bit dazed. Lu Ye sat on the couch in silence for a few seconds, then withdrew the arm around Qi Yanbai and stood up, turning to walk to the other side of the living room.

“Lu Ye?” Qi Yanbai was startled, and he quickly called out, “Where are you going?”

“I remember someone once told me that an artist’s heart shouldn’t be seen by others,” Lu Ye paused in his steps, turned to look at him, and raised an eyebrow with a meaningful tone. “But what if I say I want to see it now, do you think the ‘artist’ would agree?”

When Qi Yanbai had said that, it was half in jest and half in earnest, mostly to tease Lu Ye. He hadn’t expected that one day he would be drawn into this situation. Now, whether it was to see the “artist’s heart” or to have Qi Yanbai completely open up to him, Lu Ye believed he wouldn’t have any objections.

In Qi Yanbai’s art studio, many paintings hung on the walls. To better preserve these paintings, the studio didn’t have high-intensity lighting, only a ceiling light designed for exhibitions.

Qi Yanbai followed Lu Ye into the art studio, then flipped the switch on the wall, turning on several inconspicuous spotlights, illuminating the entire studio.

Lu Ye had been to this studio once before, but even though he had prepared himself mentally, he was still stunned by the paintings hanging all around that depicted “him.”

Dozens of oil paintings adorned the room, and at first glance, the visual impact was extremely intense. Lu Ye casually stood in front of one of the works, running his fingers over the textured dried paint. He looked at the sharp and handsome profile of the person in the painting and suddenly felt a strange emotion welling up inside him.

The last time Lu Ye had accidentally entered the studio, he was angry and didn’t pay much attention to the other paintings, except for the one in the center. This time, he walked in with a calm mind and began to appreciate them more carefully. He noticed that most of Qi Yanbai’s works were concentrated before their relationship started. After they began their relationship, there were fewer works, but they no longer focused solely on side profiles; gradually, front-facing images appeared, as if Qi Yanbai was gradually letting his guard down and coming closer to him.

These paintings were incredibly lifelike, with precise details in the contours and expressions, as if the artist had observed the subject from such intricate angles countless times and sketched them in their mind repeatedly to capture such exquisite portraits.

So, this is how he sees me? Lu Ye wondered.

“How long have you been painting these?” Lu Ye asked casually.

“Not long,” Qi Yanbai leaned against the door and smiled, saying, “Lu Ye, you have no idea how captivating you are. Every time I paint you, I feel a continuous stream of inspiration.”

While they were talking, there was suddenly a faint knocking from outside. At first, Qi Yanbai thought it was someone knocking on his own door, but upon closer listening, he realized it was coming from the door of the opposite apartment.

The room Qi Yanbai used as an art studio, was near the elevator and corridor, and the soundproofing of the walls wasn’t great. During quiet moments, you could faintly hear sounds from the corridor.

The knocking from outside was urgent and persistent, as if it was striking directly on Qi Yanbai’s heart.

Qi Yanbai’s heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling. He instinctively turned his head to look in the direction of the wall. His heart felt like it was suspended in midair, on the verge of falling.

Since Lu Ye had moved into Qi Yanbai’s apartment, no one had lived in the apartment opposite, so someone persistently knocking on the door could only mean they were looking for Lu Ye.

Lu Ye had been “missing” for quite some time now, and during this period, Qi Yanbai had deliberately avoided discussing their future in the outside world. However, this knock was like a sharp knife, instantly piercing through the fragile facade of false peace they had maintained and pulling him back into the harsh reality.

Lu Ye could be found by someone at any time, and he might escape from under this roof.

Just as if in response to Qi Yanbai’s guess, the knocking outside paused for a second but quickly resumed with the voice of an unfamiliar man calling Lu Ye’s name twice.

Lu Ye also heard the call, but his eyelashes trembled, and he remained focused on the painting in his hand, appearing as if he hadn’t heard anyone calling him from outside.

Qi Yanbai’s heart suddenly tensed up, and he felt like he was in a state of high alert. His heart raced, and he instinctively took a few steps towards the wall, as if trying to block Lu Ye’s line of sight.

“Yanbai.”

But Lu Ye quickly and naturally called out to him. He seemed to have completely ignored the person calling him, placing the painting back in its original position. With a casual tone, he said, “Since we have nothing better to do, how about teaching me how to paint?”