Chapter 46. The Fall of Icarus Part 3

Lu Zhengming slept lightly, and not for long.

His mind was actually still clear. It was just that the overwhelming intensity of what he had gone through had depleted his strength, and he needed time to recover. With his eyes shut, he could hear Yin Yan’s heavy breathing, and a sudden wave of guilt came over him. He had gotten his own release and then left the other man hanging, which felt completely inexcusable.

He did not speak right away. No one wanted to be startled in the middle of something like that. He simply opened his eyes a sliver.

What he saw was entirely different from what he had imagined.

Yin Yan sat beside him, clothes neatly in place, as if nothing had happened. His face looked cold and unfamiliar, his lips pressed into a pale, bloodless line. There was something violent and dark in his eyes.

Lu Zhengming was taken aback. That expression was colder than anything he had ever seen during their play. He had never seen Yin Yan look like that before. Forgetting to feign sleep, he reached out and held his hand.

“What’s wrong?”

To his surprise, Yin Yan did not hide the expression. He turned and stared at him, eyes unwavering. Only after a long pause did the coldness begin to melt from his face.

“It’s nothing.”

He returned the grip on Lu Zhengming’s hand. When he noticed the other man still looking stunned, he gently squeezed his fingers.

That was when Lu Zhengming noticed how cold Yin Yan’s hand was. He sat up and leaned in from behind, resting his chin on Yin Yan’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.

“Talk to me, will you?” He nuzzled the side of Yin Yan’s neck, taking in the familiar scent that lingered there.

Yin Yan turned his head, pressing his face against Lu Zhengming’s. He rubbed against him for a while, then sighed.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

He stayed like that for a long time before continuing.

“Give me a little longer. Let me finish what I need to do. Then I’ll explain everything.”

Lu Zhengming did not push him. He simply tightened his arms.

“Sometimes I really don’t understand you.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“I don’t know.” Lu Zhengming lowered his head, the tip of his nose resting against Yin Yan’s shoulder. “Sometimes I feel like you’re very far away from me. Or like one day, you’ll leave me and go somewhere far.”

Yin Yan turned around to face him.

“You’re afraid that once I go to Beijing, we’ll break up?”

“That’s not it. I can set up a new studio in Beijing. Live there most of the time. Come back here whenever I have class.” Lu Zhengming paused. “Or I could just quit.”

“Zhengming, I don’t want you to do that.”

“It’s fine. I don’t really care about staying at Pingyuan Academy of Fine Arts anyway. I’d rather focus on painting. The oil painting department is nothing special. There’s nothing new coming out of it. The experimental art program has been a mess since day one. It’s neither here nor there, and nothing like the one in Beijing. Whoever came up with the idea to expand that program must have been out of their mind…”

“I’ll take you somewhere better.”

Yin Yan’s voice was quiet. Lu Zhengming took a moment to register what he meant.

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.” Yin Yan’s gaze seemed to stretch far into the distance, unfocused. “But it will definitely be better than Pingyuan. You’ll see more of the world. You’ll have access to more resources, better connections…”

“Yin Yan…”

“You’ll stand higher. And you’ll go farther.”

A glimmer of light gradually returned to those dark and hollow eyes, but that light resembled a fire suspended in the void, burning without anchor, flickering like an illusion. Yet that illusion seemed to give Yin Yan a burst of hope. His entire demeanor lit up as he cupped Lu Zhengming’s face and kissed him with searing intensity.

“I want to give you the very best. That is… that is—”

His lips moved for a long time, but in the end, he could not say what it was.

Lu Zhengming was confused, but the kiss ignited him. Or perhaps it was the light in Yin Yan’s eyes that made him feel as though the man had returned from that distant, abstract place to be here with him again.

He had little interest in those so-called “better” things. He did not believe that standing “higher” or going “farther” would solve the questions that troubled him. But if this was what Yin Yan desired, if chasing after those things could make him come alive like this, burning with purpose, then even if Lu Zhengming did not share that passion, he was willing to help him achieve it.

If this could bring him happiness, then that was enough. He needed happiness so badly.

Lu Zhengming undressed Yin Yan piece by piece, kissing every inch of his skin with fervor, urging his body to crave pleasure as much as his own did. He took his time, worshipping Yin Yan’s desire just as Yin Yan had done to him before. He lifted his foot and kissed from the tip of his toes to the root of his thigh, leaving no part untouched. Yin Yan’s moans were the highest reward he could ask for.

If this could make him happy, then that happiness was his as well.

Lu Zhengming suddenly thought of his dog. It had always been like that. When it made him happy, it seemed happy too. Perhaps his understanding of joy had been shaped by more than just the dog. Maybe it had begun even earlier, because from a young age, he had never needed to learn how to be calculating or selfish.

But there was no time to dig into those thoughts now. Yin Yan was fully immersed in the pleasure, and Lu Zhengming needed to stay focused.

While sucking him off, Lu Zhengming mumbled, “Just now, I kept feeling like something was missing. The fake ones can never match the real thing. No matter how big or how strong, they just don’t compare…”

Yin Yan covered his eyes with one hand.

“Isn’t your own already good enough?”

“Of course not.”

Lu Zhengming straddled him, lowered himself, and took him in. He was still wet and soft back there, and Yin Yan slid in all the way with no resistance. Both of them let out a sigh of satisfaction.

“I like this one more,” Lu Zhengming said, guiding Yin Yan’s hand to the place where their bodies joined. “Feel it.”

He tightened his muscles around him, making Yin Yan fully aware of where he was inside.

“See? This thing of yours… it’s like it was made just for me. The size and angle are perfect. It presses right against—”

Yin Yan grabbed his hips and began to move, refusing to let him say another word.

That summer, only the students could truly enjoy their break.

The National Art Exhibition scheduled for the National Day holiday encompassed more than just oil painting. From traditional easel work and sculpture to new media art and various design fields, each category had its own jury and would be displayed across multiple venues.

At Pingyuan Academy of Fine Arts, every department’s participating faculty members were waiting anxiously for the award results. Before September, few could maintain a calm state of mind. These honors were not merely symbolic. They carried tangible consequences for promotions and job titles.

After the exhibition, the academy would undergo a series of personnel changes. The most anticipated among them was the appointment of a new dean.

In previous years, the successor to the academy’s deanship was usually decided in advance, with little suspense involved. This time, however, two evenly matched contenders had emerged: Vice Dean Ma Pingchuan, who came with a powerful background, and Department Chair Yao Shunyu from the art history division, known for his exceptional capabilities.

Ma Pingchuan’s Pingyuan School of Painting was considered an academic emblem of the academy. It remained active in the cultural circles of the region. Yao Shunyu, on the other hand, had authored several editions of art history textbooks and had turned the Cotton Mill Contemporary Art District into a thriving scene. Ma Pingchuan maintained extensive connections in the art world, while Yao Shunyu had a strong relationship with the local government and enjoyed significant support among critics.

The two men were nearly equal in both academic and administrative qualifications, and their backgrounds were not to be underestimated. The only real difference between them lay in their visions for the future of the academy. The current dean favored Ma Pingchuan’s conservative approach, but Yao Shunyu’s expansionist outlook and his ties to the government gave him a real chance to solve the issue of the new campus during the current term. No matter who was selected in advance, it would be difficult to gain unanimous support.

As a result, the success of their respective academic activities during the summer had become the decisive factor in determining who would become the next dean.

Ma Pingchuan’s Pingyuan School exhibition would run throughout the entire holiday at the Pingyuan Art Museum. At the same time, Yao Shunyu was preparing to host a Contemporary Art Festival in the Cotton Mill Art District, including a series of exhibitions and auctions.

To increase the weight of their events, both of them had been working hard to invite influential artists. The Pingyuan School had never given up on bringing Yin Yan into the fold, while Yao Shunyu was determined to secure Lu Zhengming’s participation in his festival.

Before making a decision, Lu Zhengming had a great deal of hesitation.

He had a casual friendship with Yao Shunyu and owed him a favor. When Lu Zhengming held his solo exhibition, Yao had written a several-thousand-word critique in praise of his work. Turning down the invitation now would feel like betraying a friend at a critical moment. But helping Yao Shunyu would also mean placing himself on the opposite side of Yin Yan.

Lu Zhengming already knew that Yin Yan would support Ma Pingchuan this time. One year ago, during that card game, Ma had even extended a symbolic invitation to him. If he agreed to participate in Yao’s festival, it would amount to offending Ma Pingchuan as well. That, in itself, did not bother him. What troubled him was how to support Yao Shunyu without causing unnecessary trouble for Yin Yan.

He spent the entire night thinking about it, but still came up with nothing. Just when he was feeling completely lost, Yin Yan called from out of town, where he was attending a creative workshop.

At first, Lu Zhengming kept the conversation casual. He had no intention of discussing this matter with Yin Yan. Issues involving conflicting interests often revealed the worst sides of people, and he did not want to hear Yin Yan suggest something that might go against his conscience. Even though he understood that Yin Yan was not the kindest person in the world.

But Yin Yan brought up the subject himself.

“Zhengming, go ahead and join the exhibition.”

Lu Zhengming was genuinely surprised. He had thought Yin Yan would urge him to back out, to step aside and leave room for him. Then another possibility occurred to him. Perhaps this was one of Yin Yan’s tactics, a way of advancing by retreating. That was his usual style, never speaking plainly, always guiding people to act according to his will without realizing it.

“Do not give up the opportunity,” Yin Yan said after a pause. Then he added, “I mean it.”

“But…”

Along with his confusion, Lu Zhengming also felt a twinge of shame. After all this time together, his impression of Yin Yan had not changed much since the year before.

“Do not feel guilty,” Yin Yan said, as if he could see straight through him. “I really did consider using you. Even just a moment ago, I was still debating whether I should let you lose a chance and a friend in order to make things easier for myself.”

“We can find a solution together. It doesn’t have to be like this…”

“Zhengming,” Yin Yan’s voice was steady and sincere. “There is a cost, yes. But that cost should not be you. I’ve changed my mind.”

He gave a small laugh and shifted into a more relaxed tone.

“And besides, I’m not that weak. I’m not going to be overshadowed by your brilliance.”

Lu Zhengming opened his mouth to say something, but Yin Yan cut him off with a lighthearted chuckle and continued, half-jokingly, “Think of it another way. If you manage your relationship with Yao Shunyu well, and I end up failing on my side, I might still be able to ride your coattails back up.”

The lighter Yin Yan sounded, the more complicated Lu Zhengming’s emotions became.

There was truth in what he said. It allowed them both to make the best choice, while also avoiding the emotional damage that often came with conflicting interests. Yin Yan still spoke in the same way he always had. Even when considering others, he never made anyone feel guilty or embarrassed.

Lu Zhengming lay in bed, turning from side to side. His chest felt swollen with heat, not the kind brought on by desire, but the quiet warmth that came from love.

That night, he once again lost sleep, tormented by longing.