34. One Man’s Show, or a Hundred-Piece Symphony?

Lu Zhengming lounged lazily in his dining chair, stark naked, refusing to let Yin Yan put on any clothes either. The latter was busy at the kitchen counter.

His gaze clung to Yin Yan the entire time. He found that back view stunning from every angle. Whether standing like now or lying down as he had just moments ago. There were traces of training in that physique, but it hadn’t been sculpted with obsessive fat-cutting. It was firm enough, yet the lines weren’t harsh.

Lu Zhengming recalled the way that body had tensed and relaxed last night, and suddenly, he couldn’t sit still.

“I’ve always thought this kind of scene is ridiculously tacky,” he said, getting up and pressing against Yin Yan from behind. “Steamy, vulgar, just like a porn.”

Yin Yan continued chopping vegetables without even looking back. “Put some clothes on before talking to me about class.”

“My tastes are just that low.”

Lu Zhengming kissed the bump of his seventh cervical vertebra and ran his hand down his spine, tracing each vertebra one by one. “Your back looks amazing. Straight posture too. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in the military.”

He felt Yin Yan stiffen slightly. The sound of chopping stopped.

“I trained when I was a kid,” Yin Yan said calmly.

“What kind of training?” Lu Zhengming assumed he was cold and went to grab a shirt for him.

When he returned, Yin Yan was sipping a cup of hot water. That confirmed it—he really was cold. Lu Zhengming regretted making him stay bare.

Yin Yan loosely draped the shirt over his shoulders, then turned back to peel the boiled eggs soaking in cold water.

“Posture training.”

“What?”

“When I was a kid, my mom made me practice posture specifically,” Yin Yan said as he peeled the boiled eggs, chopped them into small pieces, and tossed them into a bowl filled with various raw vegetables, fruits, and peeled shrimp.

“Standing, sitting, walking. I trained for all of it.” He washed his hands, pulled open the fridge, and let Lu Zhengming see the row of salad dressings on the door.

They were all low-calorie options. Lu Zhengming grabbed a random bottle, vaguely sensing something was off about Yin Yan but unable to pinpoint what. He simply followed the conversation. “Your mom paid a lot of attention to you. The old lady in my family never cared about anything. I didn’t end up hunchbacked or nearsighted purely by luck… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Yin Yan averted his gaze, opened two packs of mixed nuts, and sprinkled them into the bowl.

Lu Zhengming glanced at it and casually said, “I don’t like walnuts.”

Yin Yan picked out all the crushed walnut pieces and set them aside in a small dish.

Lu Zhengming felt a little bad and explained, “When I was a kid, my dad always bought raw walnuts, saying they were good for the brain, and made me eat them every day. I mean, I can handle clean walnut kernels, but that thin skin, it’s too bitter. And I was too lazy to peel it, so I just stopped eating them altogether…”

Yin Yan smiled with a mild, teasing look as he brought breakfast to the table.

Lu Zhengming had always thought Yin Yan’s eating habits were too healthy. This kind of bland meal left no sense of satisfaction. The only time he forced himself to eat clean like this was during his pre-summer fat-cutting phase, and even then, only for a few days. He finished his portion in just a few bites and started missing the McMuffins from his morning commute.

“Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“I’m used to it.” Yin Yan took his time finishing his milk. “Besides, this is the right way to live.”

Lu Zhengming found that phrasing a little odd. It was just breakfast. Why make it sound so serious? But there was no way to ask without nitpicking, and that felt too dull. So, he let it go.

The shirt he wore yesterday was in too much of a mess, so he borrowed one of Yin Yan’s rarely worn ones. Lu Zhengming’s shoulders were slightly broader, making the shirt feel half a size too small. Driving like this, the slight tension in the fabric gave him an oddly intimate sensation—like he was being hugged.

He had also borrowed a pair of Yin Yan’s underwear. The moment he put it on, he got so hard he felt like a pervert.

Yin Yan sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through his social feed and casually liking a few posts. He did his best to ignore Lu Zhengming because the guy had been in high spirits the whole ride. It wasn’t until they drove onto campus that he finally sobered up.

As Lu Zhengming pulled the handbrake, his gaze landed on the gift box lying beside the gear shift. It was the fountain pen Zhong Jingjing had given Yin Yan.

His good mood instantly evaporated. Exercising his rights as a boyfriend, he demanded, “What’s going on with you and Xiao Zhong?”

Yin Yan met his gaze calmly. “I told you the truth. She’s preparing for an exhibition, and I’m helping her figure out ways to enhance the visual impact of her pieces.”

“Then why all the secrecy?” Lu Zhengming wasn’t buying it.

“She wants to use this exhibition to prove her abilities to someone.” Yin Yan remained mild. “But as you can see, her paintings need some guidance. I’m just helping her break through her bottleneck.”

Lu Zhengming wasn’t fully satisfied with that answer. He muttered under his breath, “Prove to who…”

“Dai Wangyun.”

Yin Yan was referring to a well-known vice president of the academy, someone with significant influence in the institutional oil painting circles. That academy was a government-affiliated institution combining creation and academia, holding more sway than any art school in the country.

“Dai Wangyun?” Lu Zhengming let out a short laugh. “Zhong Jingjing? A little assistant professor? She can talk to him?”

“She can. Dai Wangyun is her father.”

Lu Zhengming couldn’t believe it, but Yin Yan simply held a finger to his lips. “Don’t spread it around. Even Dean Ma doesn’t know about this.”

“How do you know?”

Yin Yan chuckled. “I’m just good at conversation.”

Lu Zhengming still wanted to say more, but Yin Yan pointed at his watch. “If the professor is late, he has no right to call roll.”

There was no one around the parking lot, so Lu Zhengming quickly pulled Yin Yan in for a kiss before getting out of the car.

—–

The class was now in the deep refinement stage of their assignments, meaning there wasn’t much that needed guidance. With nothing to do, Lu Zhengming lounged on the sofa, flipping through the magazines his students had bought. Youth Vision, Hi Art, Art Archive, and the like. He didn’t bother reading the articles, just skimming the pictures to accumulate some visual experience.

That student spent a good amount of money on magazines every month. According to him, it was necessary to stay on top of trends. But what was the point? It was no different from people who mindlessly scrolled through news all day, unable to eat or sleep without their phones. In the end, all they became was a conduit for information. What did they truly gain from it?

During a model break, Lu Zhengming casually asked the student about it.

Scratching his head, the student said, “It’s not really about gaining something. I just want to feel like I’m part of the current. If I step away, I’ll feel like the times have left me behind. I can’t handle that kind of loneliness.”

Lu Zhengming then turned to the two religious students in class and asked, Are you dedicating yourselves to the same thing?

Christianity also pursued something grand. It offered a sense of belonging, allowing one’s insignificance to find solace in something greater. It provided security. Buddhism, on the other hand, took the opposite approach. Its practice sought to transcend fear, detach from temptations, and completely escape suffering.

Different paths, same destination.

Lu Zhengming didn’t press the topic further. He had no particular interest in religion. He just found those two amusing. Despite their differing beliefs, they stuck together all day, constantly debating yet maintaining a surprisingly good relationship.

When break ended, the model and students returned to their places. Lu Zhengming continued flipping through the magazine, glancing at the exhibition listings. All the major, influential exhibitions for the year had already concluded. What remained were a handful of minor shows, none worth making a trip to Beijing for.

Losing interest, he handed the magazine back. The student hesitated before mentioning, “During the New Year holidays, the National Museum is holding a special exhibition… I saw it online.”

“What kind of exhibition?”

“Something called ‘The 17th Century. Seems pretty high-profile. There’ll be a few Rembrandts, plus some Hals and Vermeers…”

Lu Zhengming didn’t pay much attention to the names after Rembrandt. He rarely sought out these kinds of exhibitions. Those grand figures held no real significance for his current work. They belonged to history.

But Rembrandt was different. That was Yin Yan’s favorite painter.

—-

After class, Lu Zhengming ran into Zhong Jingjing again. She looked the same as always, wearing heels that gave her petite frame a sharp, energetic stride. She greeted him cheerfully, then glanced behind him and greeted someone else. Lu Zhengming turned to see Yin Yan.

Her attitude toward Yin Yan hadn’t changed. She was all smiles, still looking more like his student than his colleague.

Lu Zhengming felt an inexplicable sense of relief. He exchanged a casual greeting with Yin Yan, the kind shared between colleagues, before heading to the department office with him to check the holiday schedule. There was still a week of classes after New Year’s, and then came the long winter break.

This year, New Year’s Day and the Spring Festival were close together, keeping the festive atmosphere alive throughout January. It meant the usual rounds of visiting relatives, exchanging pleasantries, and keeping up with social obligations. If it was just small talk, Lu Zhengming could handle it. What he couldn’t stand was acquaintances asking for paintings.

A new house? Needs a painting. Daughter’s wedding next month? No need for a cash gift. Just give them a painting. My nephew idolizes you, great artist! Gotta gift him an inspiring piece…

That, he could still endure. What really got to him was that if he hesitated even a little, his parents would lecture him on behalf of their friends: “That stuff of yours takes just a few strokes to finish. What’s there to be so stingy about?”

But behind those so-called “few strokes” were countless sleepless nights. They would never understand, and Lu Zhengming didn’t bother explaining. He just agreed, gradually paying off his “painting debts.”

Then came the never-ending “help” with his personal life. His mother kept sending him photos and profiles of various women. To be fair, they all had decent qualities. Some were beautiful, some were capable, and they all seemed to be doing well in life. What Lu Zhengming couldn’t understand was why they were in such a rush to get married. Or rather, why anyone thought marriage was a necessity.

Why gather up a stack of photos and let a total stranger pick one? This wasn’t some damn art exhibition.

He forced himself to reply over and over again with “Not interested” and “Don’t like any of them,” finding the whole thing absurd to the extreme.

What was the point of getting married? A life of mundane routines, endless trivialities, all your energy and finances poured into maintaining a relationship, following a set path. And then kids. “How can you not have kids after getting married?” His parents often reminisced about the congratulations they received when he was born. “Having a boy is great! Saves the second-child fine.”

What kind of messed-up congratulations was that?

Thinking about his own orientation, Lu Zhengming felt both relieved and bitterly amused.

“Lost in thought?” Yin Yan asked as he hung Lu Zhengming’s coat in the closet.

“Just something boring.” Lu Zhengming changed into the loungewear Yin Yan had bought for him, his whole body relaxing. Seeing Yin Yan still eyeing him curiously, he gave a brief rundown of what his usual Spring Festival was like.

“What about you? You look like you’ve painted plenty of these before.” Lu Zhengming chuckled.

Yin Yan gave a wry smile. “More than you, for sure. They even made me do ‘assigned compositions’, like giving me a photo to replicate or making me paint those Nordic-style still lifes, full of flowers and fruit…”

Lu Zhengming’s whole face scrunched up, as if just imagining himself painting those was pure agony.

“But I stopped a long time ago,” Yin Yan added. “I don’t paint a single one anymore.”

Lu Zhengming was a little surprised. That kind of outright refusal didn’t seem like something Yin Yan would do. He wanted to ask more, but seeing Yin Yan’s expression, he figured he probably wouldn’t get an answer. So he changed the subject instead. “Are you going home for the New Year?”

“No.” Yin Yan’s reply was blunt. That gave Lu Zhengming a little encouragement. “Then I won’t go back either.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Yin Yan’s tone was calm, just vaguely doubtful. But Lu Zhengming took it as him nagging like his parent, scolding him for being in his thirties and still so immature.

Feeling a little stifled, he spoke with some irritation. “I can go home whenever I want. Why does it have to be for New Year’s? Just to deal with all that nonsense? Besides, you’re not going back either, are you?”

Yin Yan glanced at him. “My parents have passed away.”