17. The Sun of Arles Part 3

Lu Zhengming didn’t just recognize the person in the painting, he recognized the painting itself.

It was Yan Yan’s graduation piece, a self-portrait of her standing before an easel. Many parts of the painting had been altered by Yin Yan, especially the figure she had left unfinished, almost all of it had been completed by him. Lu Zhengming remembered that the original had a warm, classical brown tone, but now, not a single hint of warmth remained. The entire canvas was drowned in somber, oppressive blues.

“You—”

“This is for the exhibition.”

“Exhibition? Why this painting?”

“I can’t move past this.” Yin Yan’s voice carried a hint of exhaustion. “I haven’t completed a single painting in two years.”

Lu Zhengming fell silent. He, too, realized that in the past two years, every piece Yin Yan had displayed had either been an old work or a class demonstration. Understanding dawned on him. This painting wasn’t just an entry for an exhibition; it was Yin Yan’s way of seeking closure for the guilt that had plagued him. But still, Lu Zhengming felt that Yin Yan had taken on far too much responsibility for something that wasn’t his to bear.

“Yan Yan’s death had nothing to do with you,” he said, looking at Yin Yan. “If anyone should be held responsible, it’s me.”

“It had everything to do with me. I couldn’t pull her back. I didn’t stop her from going down that path. She trusted me so much…”

“Healing is a doctor’s job. You already did more than enough.”

Yin Yan let out a bitter smile but didn’t argue further. A long silence stretched between them before he finally spoke again.

“Lu Zhengming, why do you paint?”

Lu Zhengming thought for a moment before answering, “Because painting solves my problems. It’s the most… precise language I have. It lets me say things I can’t express any other way.”

“So, you’re the same as her.” Yin Yan’s gaze passed through him, settling on Yan Yan’s face in the painting. “You’re both born to be painters, people who can communicate through this medium.”

“And you’re not? You’re better at this than me.” Lu Zhengming turned to look at the painting again. “I could never paint something like this.”

“I’m not. Painting means nothing to me. I didn’t even choose it willingly…”

Yin Yan’s eyes drifted, his mind seemingly far away. When he realized what he was saying, he suddenly pulled himself back and continued, “Yan Yan had so much she needed to express. She was always searching for a way to do it. But she wasn’t as lucky as you. Not everyone finds their own style so naturally. Mimicking me was her last resort.”

He let out a long sigh. “I failed to help her find her own path. That was my incompetence… My failure is what made her lose hope and choose that road.”

A heavy weight suddenly pressed down on Lu Zhengming’s chest. It wasn’t just Yin Yan’s confession. It was the immense, suffocating pain that had been released with it.

Yin Yan stepped closer to the painting. The Yan Yan in the portrait was life-sized, staring at them from the depths of the abyss.

Lu Zhengming followed behind him, wanting to offer some comfort but not knowing where to start.

“I want to complete this painting using her language and let her see the place she longed to go,” Yin Yan turned to look at him. “What do you think of it?”

Lu Zhengming gazed at Yan Yan for a long time. Yin Yan said nothing more, standing there like a silent shadow. The sunlight in the room shifted slowly, casting both of them and Yan Yan into its glow.

Lu Zhengming finally speak.

“The people you paint never seem to have much ‘human presence.’ It’s as if they have no emotions or desires, always distant from the world.” He glanced at Yin Yan, who didn’t seem to mind, so he continued. “Before, at least they still looked like people. But this one… it’s not like that. This doesn’t look like a living person.”

“I didn’t intend to paint it this way.” Yin Yan’s expression was a little lost.

Lu Zhengming had never seen him like this before. It felt unfamiliar. He instinctively looked at the painting again, and suddenly, his heart clenched as if a cold hand had seized it.

The expression on the figure in the painting was identical to Yin Yan’s.

Lu Zhenming thought back to his brief impression of him. Yin Yan was like a ghost trapped beneath ice. But his mask was too perfect. It always make people forget that, just like Yan Yan, he had never truly been freed.

He Forced a smile and tried to lighten the mood. “I remember you once told me that this girl didn’t like talking or playing around. She never even dated, just focused entirely on painting.”

Yin Yan nodded. “Yes.”

“It might sound like an excuse, but… is there a chance that this was her own choice? She seemed fragile on the outside, but in reality, she was stronger than both of us. She was pure.”

Over the years, Lu Zhengming had carried as much guilt as Yin Yan. Now, to help lighten his burden, he deliberately chose words that might seem irresponsible.

He carefully watched Yin Yan’s reaction and continued. “You made her look too weak. This isn’t her. It’s you. What you painted is actually yourself. Uour guilt, your helplessness, and your despair.”

Yin Yan remained silent for a long time before asking, “What about you? How would you paint it?”

“If it were me, the painting would be red.”

“Red…” Yin Yan thought of the painting he had seen in Lu Zhengming’s studio
The deep red abyss that seemed ready to consume everything, yet also simmered with the energy of an impending eruption.

“If not red, then golden yellow. Like the sun. Like that poem, ‘erupting from the depths of the earth, like a volcano, reckless and uncontrollable. Herself, and the unnecessary extra time she had to live.’”

Yin Yan raised his voice. “That’s just your own projection.”

Lu Zhengming patted his back until both their emotions had settled.

“That’s why neither of us can truly paint Yan Yan as she was.” He said, “We’re not painting to give her closure, we’re just trying to make peace with ourselves. As if finishing this painting and earning recognition from it will somehow bring her comfort. But that’s why you can’t complete it. Because the dead will never return. They will never tell you that they forgive you.”

“In my eyes,” Lu Zhengming gripped his shoulders and took a long time to decide whether to say the next part, “You’re not atoning. You’re burying yourself with her.”

“Lu Zhengming!”

“You need to move on.”

The conversation had ended on a sour note. Yin Yan hadn’t explicitly asked him to leave, but he also didn’t respond to Lu Zhengming’s apologies or explanations. Left with no choice, Lu Zhengming walked away, giving them both space to breathe.

He fell into another slump.

—

The summer break was coming to an end, yet he hadn’t completed a single painting. Even the new pieces on glass held no appeal for him. He couldn’t help but mock himself. Yin Yan’s gloom was contagious.

No, it wasn’t just contagion. His work in recent days had been completely influenced by him. He was practically Van Gogh in 1888, painting his brightest works with longing for Gauguin, only to spiral into irreparable madness when Gauguin left. The massive red painting had marked the beginning, while the spatial compositions on glass had carried everything forward. The euphoria Yin Yan had brought hadn’t even faded before the crash followed.

Each day, he drifted between idleness and restlessness, caught in limbo with no way out.

He needed a way to break free.

Another fruitless day passed. The sky had darkened when Lu Zhengming, slightly tipsy, wandered aimlessly along the moat.

Everything remained the same, as if that fateful encounter had been an illusion. But the series of incidents that followed had left his life in shambles. He had hoped the night breeze would clear his frustrations, yet without realizing it, his chest grew heavier with unspoken weight.

He pulled out a cigarette, took a single drag, then flicked it into the river. As the faint smoke dissipated, he raised a hand to hail a taxi and gave the driver an address.

The place was a fully enclosed residential compound with strict security. Visitors needed to be registered and approved by a resident before entering. Lu Zhengming was about to sign in at the security post but changed his mind at the last second.

Instead, he circled to a secluded part of the perimeter, grabbed onto the iron bars, and climbed over. He walked straight to one of the buildings and lingered near the greenery outside. When someone exited the entrance, he slipped inside before the door shut. The elevator required an access card, so he had no choice but to take the stairs, climbing more than ten flights before finally reaching his destination.

Yin Yan had just finished showering when he heard the knock on his door.

The entire day had been unproductive, so he had decided to sleep early and place his hopes on tomorrow. To help himself relax, he had also drunk a little. The alcohol had dulled his nerves, lowering his guard, so he didn’t even check who it was before opening the door.

“Lu Zhengming?”

“You just showered? Perfect…”

Lu Zhengming had a high tolerance for alcohol. The bottles of homemade beer at the bar weren’t nearly enough to get him drunk. Yet the moment the door opened and he caught the lingering heat and fragrance on Yin Yan’s skin, the intoxication surged straight to his head. Even if he wasn’t drunk, he had to act like he was.

Before Yin Yan could say a word, Lu Zhengming seized the moment, yanking at the collar of his bathrobe and pressing their lips together, swallowing whatever response he had.

Sensing no resistance, he took full advantage, slipping his hands inside and running them over every inch of his skin.

“Sleeping naked? You’re really something…”

He deliberately exposed Yin Yan’s little secret, teasing his ear as he shoved him back toward the bedroom. That place had appeared in his fantasies over and over. Every time he stayed the night here, he had found himself staring at that door, just like Van Gogh lingering by Gauguin’s bedside at midnight, burning with a mad anticipation.

Yi Yan didn’t exactly put up a fight. His resistance was more symbolic than anything, a half-hearted struggle that felt more like a taunt. He shivered under the bites tracing his neck and collarbone and scoffed coolly,

“Did I just let a rapist in?”

Lu Zhengming thought the description was fitting. He decided to make it real.

He shoved Yin Yan onto the bed and yanked open his loose bathrobe.

Scars crisscrossed his back again.

Lu Zhengming hated seeing this kind of thing, especially when he hadn’t been there to witness how they were made. The mere thought of Yin Yan showing that kind of expression in front of someone else made his grip tighten.

But this time, he didn’t lose control like before. The instincts of an abstract painter finally kicked in, making him realize that the patterns of those scars were unusual. He ran through the movements in his mind, sketching them out in his head.

They all came from Yin Yan himself.

“What?” Yin Yan knelt on the bed, unable to see behind him. He only felt the heat suddenly fade, leaving his freshly awakened craving unsatisfied. His voice held a trace of disappointment.

“You really are…”

With a sigh, Lu Zhengming pressed his lips against the back of his neck, then his shoulder, then every scarred inch of his back.

Heat and pain spread over his skin, blending with a soft, ticklish sensation, like gentle waves washing over him. Yin Yan broke out in a sweat, but his muscles only grew tenser.

“Don’t be nervous,” Lu Zhengming licked the back of his waist, moving down heavily and slowly, his hot and humid breath blowing on his tailbone, “Don’t be nervous…”

Yin Yan couldn’t listen to anything anymore. His entire body trembled, his hips clamping tightly around the fingers trying to push in, resisting to the very end before completely losing ground. Lu Zhengming didn’t waste his strength forcing his way in. Instead, he bit down lightly on the tense muscles, circling around the Macedonian defense bit by bit. Without realizing it, Yin Yan ended up lying spread open on the bed, surrendering to the invader’s sugar-coated bullets.

“Where’s the stuff?”

Lu Zhengming asked while stripping off his own clothes, his gaze scanning the room.

With his eyes shut, Yin Yan reached out and pulled open the nightstand drawer. Lu Zhengming glanced inside. Everything that should be there was present. He picked up a half-empty tube of clear lube, and a sudden, irrational anger flared up. He pressed it against Yin Yan’s face.

“Busy nights, huh, Professor Yin?”

Yin Yan’s cock was still held firmly in Lu Zhengming’s grasp, pleasure hanging on the edge of release. He gasped, “That’s for myself—”

“For yourself?”

Yin Yan wasn’t sure if he was playing dumb or genuinely clueless. For a moment, he was speechless.

Lu Zhengming chuckled and immediately revealed his true nature, pressing down against him, hot breath tickling his ear.

“How do you use it? Who were you thinking about when you used it?”

Before Yin Yan could answer, Lu Zhengming lowered his head and swallowed him whole. He licked along the tip, tracing all the way down to the hidden slit, wet and obscene, before slowly making his way back up. Every crease and fold glistened under his tongue.

“Who were you thinking about?”

He sucked down hard. Yin Yan’s whole body jerked up before falling back against the bed, muscles tightening, thighs clamping around his neck as he cried out,

“You! You… I was thinking about you!”

“Me?” Lu Zhengming’s fingers tightened around him, keeping him still as he struggled and twisted. “Describe it.”

“I…”

Yin Yan arched his back, panting heavily, breaking out into another sweat under Lu Zhengming’s relentless teasing.

Lu Zhengming deliberately held onto him, letting him squirm and roll, refusing to move.

“Describe the scene,” he coaxed.

Yin Yan squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to tell the truth. Lu Zhengming responded by switching up his techniques, playing with him until his toes curled and he cried out his name, only to have his climax cut off at the last second.

“Was it me fucking you?”

Those few seconds of breathless pause were enough for Yin Yan to regain some of his senses. He half-opened his eyes, lifted his chin in defiance, and His voice was hoarse as he spat out a few words:

“I’m the one… fucking you…”

Lu Zhengming’s gaze darkened instantly with violence. He twisted open the bottle of lube and poured it directly onto him. The icy liquid seeped in, breaking through Yin Yan’s last line of defense as fingers forced their way inside. Both of them groaned at the same time.

It had been too long since Lu Zhengming had gone this far with someone. His fingers throbbed like they were part of his own arousal, the heat around them squeezing him so tightly that his mind spun, momentarily forgetting how to move. But muscle memory kicked in like instinct, quickly reminding him of the way to drive someone mad with pleasure. He was certain Yin Yan would enjoy this, that just like everyone else. Even if he resisted at first, soon enough he would let go completely, melting into it, drowning in pleasure, unable to stop…

But Yin Yan didn’t.

He didn’t let Lu Zhengming push inside right away. His body turned cold just as suddenly, his eyes growing sharper and clearer, even as he moaned in cooperation, even as his body writhed like a debauched mess.

When Lu Zhengming noticed, Yin Yan didn’t even bother hiding it. “You might as well just put it in.”

Lu Zhengming gritted his teeth and forced himself to be patient. He slid in another finger, lowering his head to kiss the corner of Yin Yan’s lips. “No rush. I don’t want you to hurt…”

“I want to hurt.”

Yin Yan’s fingers traced over his chest, setting off a sharp inhale. When he found one of Lu Zhengming’s nipple, he pressed and rubbed at it, as if trying to compete with the fingers inside him. His voice was slow, teasing:

“Just fuck me. I want it to hurt.”

Lu Zhengming suddenly felt a wave of frustration. He wanted so badly to free Yin Yan from his pain, to make him enjoy pleasure the same way he did. He thought that their last honest conversation had been enough to break those chains.

But once again, reality had proven him wrong.

Yin Yan softened, limped cock, wordlessly telling him that everything had gone to waste.

Unwilling to accept it, Lu Zhengming cupped his face and kissed him deeply. Yin Yan responded, wrapping his arms around him, but Lu Zhengming was hit with a bitter realization. Yin Yan still wouldn’t take the initiative. He still looked like he was offering himself up, yielding without resistance, catering to whatever Lu Zhengming wanted.

“What do I have to do to make you feel good…” Lu Zhengming held him tightly, trying to warm his icy shell with sheer passion.

Yin Yan responded as gently as he could, yet his heart felt just as hollow as Lu Zhengming’s. He mimicked him, licking and kissing along his neck, wanting to flip them over and take the lead. But Lu Zhengming caught on immediately, stopping him in his tracks. Yin Yan flopped back onto the bed.

“Do whatever you want…”

He gave in, half surrendering, half venting his frustration.

But instead of taking him right away, Lu Zhengming seemed to be seriously thinking. A moment later, he picked up the sash from Yin Yan’s robe and covered his eyes.

He heard Lu Zhengming rummaging through a drawer, followed by the soft sound of water trickling. Then came the rough exhales, the muffled groans, and the sudden, wet heat engulfing him once again. In the darkness, his desire slowly rekindled.

Lu Zhengming’s voice rumbled low in his ear, carrying both a familiar dominance and an unfamiliar hesitation:

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”

A deeper, softer warmth descended upon him, indescribably intoxicating. It was firm yet pliant, denying any rejection.

Then, light flooded his vision. The glow of the bedside lamp suddenly felt too bright, overwhelming his senses before gradually settling down.

He saw Lu Zhengming’s hand wrapped around the sash, veins standing out beneath his flushed, sweat-drenched skin. His face was stained with desire, heat rising off him in waves as he leaned in closer.

“It’s been so long since I last opened for business… I’m getting rusty.”

He chuckled, like he had just cracked a lousy joke, one with no audience response, so he had to laugh at it himself.

Yin Yan raised a hand to cover his eyes, as if trying to block out the blinding light.

“Give me some face,” Lu Zhengming nudged his hand aside. “At least smile a little?”

“It’s not funny at all.” Yin Yan sighed. “I feel like I’m being raped by you.”

“Oh, come on… since when is rape this—fucking—good—”

Lu Zhengming sank down, swallowing his pained groan, head tilting back as he gasped for breath.

His body was suffering, yet his mind was drowning in pure, unfiltered euphoria. The scene he had envisioned for years was unfolding right in front of him. No matter the method, the outcome was exactly what he had craved. Holding onto Yin Yan’s waist, he thrust with reckless abandon. Not chasing pleasure, just unleashing the years of pent-up desire.

At that moment, he suddenly understood Yin Yan’s addiction to pain. The intertwining of pain and pleasure was like liquor scorching the throat. Burning, then spreading into a dizzying high.

He didn’t know if he was drunk or just losing his mind. All he knew was that the Yin Yan beneath him was just as crazed, just as lost. He was raping his pain-worshiping beliefs with the logic of pleasure, invading his world, shattering it, grinding it to dust, only to pull him out of the wreckage and tell him again and again.

“I want to make you happy.”

“No! I don’t—”

Yin Yan screamed, struggling like someone truly being forced. His hands were pinned beside his face, helpless against the overwhelming pleasure being forced upon him. His body was reveling in it, yet his mind was being ravaged, a simultaneous fracture and fusion, tearing him apart.

This sheer, unadulterated pleasure shattered gravity itself. He drifted further and further into an infinite unknown, a vacuum of terror. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing but this maddening ecstasy.

And so, he clung to it desperately, refusing to let go. Stretching it, extending it, making it last forever.

But that was destined to be impossible.

Between the limits of the body and the limits of the mind, one would always give in first. Before his mind could collapse, his body’s endurance was the first to break. The climax, laced with both agony and pleasure, shattered him and rebuilt him anew. Even his once-unshakable beliefs nearly wavered in that instant.

By the time his consciousness fully returned, he had already withdrawn from Lu Zhengming’s body.

A pool of cool, slippery liquid was collecting on his abdomen. When he looked up, Lu Zhengming was still straddling his waist, one hand braced against him while the other stroked himself at a frenzied pace. That liquid had come from his cock.

Yin Yan’s gaze landed on Lu Zhengming’s sweat-slicked thighs. His own cum was trickling from between them, seeping out in slow, obscene trails. The sight was so filthy, so depraved, it filled him with utter despair. He was about to close his eyes when Lu Zhengming’s breath hitched sharply.

Lowering his head, Lu Zheming bit down on Yin Yan’s lips and came between their tangled bodies. He collapsed onto him, pressing his full weight down, arms locking around him tightly as he chased lingering kisses, like someone stuck in an insatiable oral fixation. He reveled in the deep satisfaction of getting what he had always wanted, savoring the way Yin Yan kissed him back with careful precision.

But beneath that gentle embrace, something else was quietly crumbling apart.