16. The Sun Of Arles Part 2

Lu Zhengming recalled the collaboration Yin Yan had mentioned before. Back then, he had found it ridiculous, but now, he thought, maybe it wasn’t entirely out of the question.

Yin Yan remained noncommittal and instead asked, “Do you think we can actually work together?”

Lu Zhengming admitted, “Yeah, we’re not exactly on the same wavelength.”

Yin Yan reached down, grasping him lightly. “Stop using this to think.”

“I feel like that was unnecessary.” Lu Zhengming pried his hand away. “But imagining that scene is kind of interesting. Do you want to give it a try? My place is pretty big.”

Realizing the ambiguity in his words, he quickly added, “My studio is four hundred square meters. Plenty of space for you to paint.”

Yin Yan stared at him without speaking.

That kind of invitation, ambiguous, bordering on domestic, was not something he wanted to acknowledge. But he did need Lu Zhengming’s help with some artwork, and for a moment, he couldn’t think of a way to reject the first half of his statement, so he fell silent.

Lu Zhengming misinterpreted his hesitation and laughed. “Even if our styles are different, we wouldn’t be as bloody as Van Gogh and Gauguin. I just haven’t seen you paint in a long time, and I have no idea what kind of shape you’re in. Think about it?”

At first, the atmosphere had been slightly suggestive, but as soon as the conversation shifted to art, Lu Zhengming’s expression turned serious. In his eyes, Yin Yan saw something familiar, an unwavering passion untouched by time, untainted by the world’s cynicism. On a man their age, it was a rare and extravagant trait.

Once, he had been deceived by this passion, mistaking it for something close to affection. But that feeling had been faint, so faint that his overwhelming resistance had quickly torn it apart, scattering it across the long years that followed. He had assumed those fragments were lost forever, yet now, like a twist of fate, they surfaced again, always catching him off guard.

Like now. Lu Zhengming, eyes burning with intensity, looking at him as if the sharp, youthful man from years ago had stepped across time to stand before him once more.

Yin Yan covered his unease with a smile, then sought a stronger force to suppress this moment of hesitation.

“I do have a painting,” he said. “I’d like your help with it.”

“What kind of painting is so difficult?” Yin Yan’s words were a little harsh, which only made Lu Zhengming more curious. “Even you can’t handle it?”

Yin Yan didn’t answer. Instead, he changed the subject. “Get dressed. Let’s get breakfast first. I know a place. The porridge there is pretty good.”

Lu Zhengming froze for a moment before realizing what he meant, and in an instant, his whole demeanor lit up. “Well, what an honor! You haven’t invited me over in ages.”

As he spoke, he kicked off his pants on the way to the bedroom and came back wearing a pair of jeans. “Forget breakfast. Let’s go straight there.”

Yin Yan smiled wryly. “Is it really that serious?”

“Yes.” Lu Zhengming grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips. “Let’s go.”

Under Lu Zhengming’s insistence, Yin Yan was forced to climb into that tank-like off-road vehicle. Lu Zhengming refused to let his long legs suffer in discomfort and outright rejected Yin Yan’s suggestion of adjusting the seat in his sedan.

“That would make the back seat useless.”

“No one sits in my back seat.” Yin Yan looked out the window. “Change lanes. Left at the next turn.”

“Where to? Your place is straight ahead.” Lu Zhengming questioned him but still flicked on the turn signal.

“We drank last night. Skipping breakfast would mess up my stomach.”

“You’re only a few years older than me. Why do you sound like someone from a whole different generation? You take your health too seriously.”

Yin Yan didn’t argue, only replying flatly, “My stomach’s not great.”

Lu Zhengming shot him a surprised look. “Then why do you keep drinking? You never hold back…”

“Eyes on the road.”

A sharp honk blared past the window. Lu Zhengming quickly turned his head back, not even caring about any potential scratches on his beloved car. The only thing on his mind was, how the hell did he not know Yin Yan had stomach issues?

He ate that meal absentmindedly, watching Yin Yan with a complicated mood. After a few half-hearted sips of porridge, his mind had already shifted to the painting he was about to face. The restaurant’s signature clay pot porridge was left unfinished.

Yin Yan, following the rule of not speaking while eating or sleeping, took his time and paid little attention to Lu Zhengming’s questions. When pressed, he would only respond, “We’ll talk at home.”

A bad feeling crept up on Lu Zhengming again, and he remained silent for the rest of the ride.

He had originally planned to have some fun with Yin Yan in the car. Ever since he bought this vehicle, he hadn’t fooled around with anyone in it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because no one was worth dirtying his car for. The moment Yin Yan got in, the idea had crossed his mind. He wanted to tease, to build up to it, but the right moment never came, so he gave up.

Yin Yan’s studio was in a high-end residential complex. After parking in the underground lot, Lu Zhengming was just about to open the door when he hesitated and reached back to grab Yin Yan’s wrist.

“Uh…” He seemed conflicted. “I’m afraid that once we go upstairs, I won’t be in the mood anymore.”

Yin Yan studied him for a moment before realization dawned. Leaning in, he gave him a light kiss before stepping out of the car.

The elevator vibrated faintly, and Lu Zhengming couldn’t calm down.

It had been a long time since he last entered this building. Back then, he only came to admire paintings or visit friends. Yin Yan would occasionally let him stay the night, but it was always simple. Because of his own orientation, Lu Zhengming had naturally entertained thoughts about Yin Yan before, but seeing his place filled with portraits of women had quickly doused those ideas.

Now, standing in the same place, everything felt different.

“It’s been a while since I came here… doesn’t seem like much has changed.”

Lu Zhengming kept his expression neutral and made conversation while his mind wandered. Unruly fantasies popped up now and then, whispering that once the unspoken barrier was broken, a lot of things could fall into place naturally. But then, the thought of that enigmatic painting suddenly intruded, instantly freezing all his desires.

With a soft ding, the elevator finally stopped, pulling him out of his turmoil.

Yin Yan’s studio was a spacious four-bedroom, two-living-room layout. Two of the rooms were used as a bedroom and guest room, one for storage. The largest room had the same black walnut flooring as the rest of the apartment, lined with half-height bookshelves made of the same heavy, expensive wood. Thick art books, all original editions, were neatly arranged in rows. The entire place was so clean that it didn’t feel like a studio at all—more like a study.

Yin Yan rarely hung paintings on the walls, keeping them stark white. Apart from the unfinished piece on the easel, the only artwork in the room was a reproduction of Rembrandt’s self-portrait from his youth, standing against the bookshelf.

“Still the same.”

Lu Zhengming stepped into the room and sighed once more.

Yin Yan headed to the bar counter to make coffee. Though he didn’t drink beverages himself, he kept a full stock of coffee beans and tea leaves at home, with even the coffee machine being a high-end commercial semi-automatic model worth tens of thousands.

“Don’t bother. I’m not drinking.” Lu Zhengming patted his pocket, realizing he’d left in a hurry and forgotten to bring his cigarettes. “I’ll go downstairs to buy a pack.”

Yin Yan reached behind the bar and took out a pack of cigarettes, the brand Lu Zhengming usually smoked.

“Oh?” Lu Zhengming accepted the pack, feeling a small, unexpected warmth inside.

For a moment, he thought Yin Yan had kept his preferred cigarettes because he expected him to visit. But when he followed Yin Yan’s hand and glanced inside the bar counter, he saw multiple packs of different brands neatly stacked.

His mood instantly soured, and he lost the urge to smoke. He refused the lighter Yin Yan handed over. “Forget it. Let’s see the painting first.”

Yin Yan gave him a long, searching look before heading into the storage room. He returned carrying a massive two-meter-tall canvas. Lu Zhengming had never seen him paint anything this large before. He helped carry it into the living room, flipping it upright and leaning it against the wall.

He was just about to ask why Yin Yan had chosen such an enormous canvas, until he saw what was on it.

A deep, oceanic blue, cold as the abyss, filled the background. Floating within it was a ghostly, gray-white human figure.

Lu Zhengming recognized her immediately.

It was Yan Yan.