Chapter 24. The Answer is No Part 1

Lu Zhengming had said “I love you” countless times, but this was the first time he truly meant it.

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a pang of regret. This wasn’t the right time. Anything said in bed always came with a discount on sincerity, especially after sex. His confession felt more like a comment, an appraisal of his partner’s performance rather than a genuine declaration of feelings. Holding Yin Yan close, he kissed him over and over, desperate to prove that he truly meant it, that it wasn’t just post-orgasmic nonsense.

“Really!”

He wasn’t good at sweet-talking, had no tricks up his sleeve, so all he could do was repeat himself over and over, afraid that Yin Yan wouldn’t believe him. “Really, I’ve really fallen for you…”

As he spoke, a tightness filled his chest, a dull ache that felt like his heart was being ripped open. This wasn’t the kind of state a man his age should be in. He didn’t even have the energy to laugh at himself. His full attention was on Yin Yan’s face, watching, waiting for a response.

Yin Yan’s expression was strange. It wasn’t shock, nor was it indifference. Instead, there was a quiet stillness, something almost sorrowful in his eyes.

After a long pause, he finally cupped Lu Zhengming’s face and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

“‘Love is the most refined, the most cunning, and the most effective tool of social oppression.’”

He didn’t give Lu Zhengming time to react. Walking into the bathroom, he locked himself inside.

He washed for a long time, scrubbing himself raw until his whole body was red and aching, until even the gentlest stream of water became unbearable. By the time he came out, the bed had already been cleaned, fresh sheets neatly in place. Lu Zhengming lay facing the wall, long since drifted off to sleep in his disappointment.

Yin Yan sat by his own bed for a while, staring at Lu Zhengming’s back. He let out a silent sigh.

—

The next day in class, both Lu Zhengming and Yin Yan looked exhausted.

When they arrived at the base’s main hall, the students were chatting about the weather and the places they planned to visit, too caught up in their own conversations to notice their tired expressions. Ouyang stood apart from the crowd, watching them with a distant, unreadable look. When Lu Zhengming passed by, she greeted him, studied his face for a moment, then smiled.

Something about it made him feel uneasy. Avoiding her gaze, he called the students to gather and assigned their tasks.

Yin Yan had fewer students, so once they were all present, he left without much fuss. Lu Zhengming, on the other hand, had twenty students. Group activities weren’t an option. He went over the safety precautions again, then let them scatter to find scenes that interested them. They would regroup at the base in the evening for critique before being dismissed for the day.

He wandered near a small hill with his painting kit, smoking several cigarettes without touching his canvas.

Most of the students were lazy, settling for sketching the old colonial mansions left behind by the settlers—yellow walls, red roofs, and the bright blue sky. The stark contrast of these high-purity colors made them difficult to balance and required careful handling. Along the way, Lu Zhengming came across a few students struggling with their compositions. He gave them some verbal pointers but didn’t pick up a brush himself.

He didn’t like correcting students’ paintings. It would disrupt their thought process. Many teachers ended up producing students who were just carbon copies of themselves. Yin Yan was a prime example of that. But not Lu Zhengming. His students all had distinct styles.

Of course, there was a downside to this approach. They would have to go through their own struggles before finding the right path.

But what was the right path? Even Lu Zhengming couldn’t answer that. He tossed his painting kit to a student and went off to smoke.

The hill was dotted with sparse pines and a few flowering trees he couldn’t name. He had seen their pictures on the base’s walls. This place must be stunning in spring. Yin Yan must have seen it before.

Where had he taken his students? The seaside? The old town? It had been a long time since he last watched Yin Yan paint. Did he still paint the same way?

Lu Zhengming thought back to the first time they met. Back then, Yin Yan had corrected one of his paintings. That painting had all the right technical foundations. Every realist painter had to go through rigorous training, learning to “dance with shackles.” Lu Zhengming only had to try it once to know that wasn’t what he wanted.

But what did he want?

All his life, he had lived in noise and chaos, never denying himself any pleasure. Over time, his thresholds had been pushed to unnatural heights, and the things that once thrilled him had become dull.

Was that why he was so obsessed with Yin Yan?

At first, he enjoyed playing along, even designing those kinds of games himself. But the further things went, the more he realized that he still preferred the simplest way.

He wanted to be with Yin Yan in the most ordinary positions. Facing each other, embracing, kissing. Even if they did nothing at all, just staying inside him or being entered by him didn’t matter. What mattered was that they held nothing back.

Lu Zhengming had never felt this kind of desire for anyone else.

It struck him then just how shallow his experiences were. He had spoken of love before he even truly understood what it meant, making it seem frivolous, even insincere.

But if this wasn’t love, then what was it?

The cigarette in his mouth was losing its taste. He stubbed out the half-burnt stick against the bark of a tree and tossed it into the trash. Taking out a mint, he poured it onto his tongue. The sharp, icy burn made his scalp tingle, and he spat it out in frustration. Nothing he usually relied on for comfort was working. He paced in agitation, his mind hopelessly drawn back to Yin Yan. Maybe only kissing him would ease this restlessness.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Where are you?”

“Red Reef Park.”

Lu Zhengming returned to the students to retrieve his paintbox. They had already laid down their base colors and were now refining their details. Though they still only half-understood his pointers, each of them had their own areas of interest and were exploring them with genuine focus. That, at least, was somewhat reassuring.

He offered a few words of encouragement, then glanced around. “Where’s Ouyang? She’s the only girl here, and none of you thought to check on her?”

The students exchanged looks, unable to answer. It seemed no one had noticed or cared.

The brief improvement in Lu Zhengming’s mood vanished. He headed down the hill to hail a taxi.

A cab was parked at the foot of the hill, but without a rooftop sign, obviously an unlicensed one. He didn’t bother going to the main road and simply pulled open the door.

The driver was chatty, rambling in heavily accented Mandarin about Qingdao’s scenery. He pitched so-called sketching hotspots, claiming to have connections that could get discounts on entrance fees. Lu Zhengming handed him a cigarette in exchange for a few minutes of silence.

The ten-minute walk had turned into a twenty-yuan cab fare. Lu Zhengming tossed down a bill and got out without a backward glance.

Perhaps out of a guilty conscience, the driver hesitated before rolling down the window. “Wind’s strong today. You sure your paintings won’t get blown away?”

Lu Zhengming didn’t break stride. He walked straight into the park.

It was a narrow coastal park with several stretches of beach and weathered red rock formations. The seawall was lined with pine trees, completely different from Lu Zhengming’s previous impressions of the seaside. From a distance, the reddish-brown trunks blended seamlessly with the red reefs, while the dark green canopies formed a cloud-like mass overhead.

He found Yin Yan in a secluded cove, sketching the rocks with his students in a sheltered spot. Surprisingly, Ouyang was there too, perched on a reef not far away, painting the sea. Her long robe and hair trembled in the wind.

Lu Zhengming walked over to check her painting. Like her, it was almost monochromatic. But on closer inspection, the deep gray of the sea concealed a rich spectrum of colors.

He was pleasantly surprised to catch a glimpse of a budding artistic direction in her work. He made a mental note to use it as a reference in the evening critique session, to explain what artistic intent meant. After a few words reminding her to stay safe, he returned to find Yin Yan.

“…That guy had a small bucket of crabs and stood behind me, watching the whole time I painted. I said, ‘How about trading your crabs for this painting?’ He turned around and walked away.”

On the folding table beside Yin Yan, there were snacks and drinks, making it look like a casual picnic. They painted and chatted at the same time, the atmosphere as easygoing as if they were peers.

One of Yin Yan’s plein-air paintings sold for more than Lu Zhengming’s students’ entire graduation projects. The one they had just been talking about could easily fetch five figures. The students lamented that the fisherman who had watched him paint had no eye for value. Yin Yan only smiled and shook his head. “He spent the whole morning digging up those crabs.”

Lu Zhengming sat down beside him, joining in on the laughter. He looked at the painting Yin Yan had just finished. His usual high-contrast colors had been softened into a subtle gray tone, tranquil yet tinged with a faint melancholy.

A painting never lies, even if its artist kept smiling.

Suddenly, Yin Yan’s phone rang. He listened for a moment, then jogged off toward the seawall. When he returned, he was carrying two paper bags from a restaurant. He pulled out a few meal boxes then turned to Lu Zhengming. “Call your students over.”

Ouyang took a moment to gather her things and carefully sat beside Lu Zhengming, keeping herself as compact as possible, as if afraid of taking up too much space. Yin Yan nudged Lu Zhengming. “Grab some wet wipes from my bag.”

By the time Lu Zhengming returned, Yin Yan had already pulled him down beside him, instantly doubling the space available next to Ouyang. She relaxed a little, about to say something, but Yin Yan suddenly grinned and opened one of the boxes. “This place makes great flower crab.”

He passed the meal boxes around, and soon, everyone was busy cracking open crabs, too focused to keep up the conversation.

Lu Zhengming liked watching Yin Yan eat. He never rushed, savoring every bite, as if he were genuinely content. More satisfied than even when having sex. He took his time peeling the crab legs, somehow managing to extract the meat in perfect strips without wasting a single shred.

Lu Zhengming watched him eat an entire crab from start to finish. By the time he was done, his hands, lips, and even the discarded shells were spotless.

Ouyang barely touched anything except one dish in front of her. Most of the time, she ate the bread she had brought along. When that was gone, she simply sat at the table, cradling her water bottle, listening to their conversation.

In the afternoon, Lu Zhengming stayed and painted with them.

It had been too long since he last painted realistic subjects, too long since he had gone outdoors for plein-air sketching. Sitting beside Yin Yan, he felt a rush of excitement, almost like being a student again.

That feeling seeped into his painting, impossible to hide. He often skipped the palette, smearing paint directly onto the canvas, letting the unmixed colors burst with vibrancy. The whole piece looked lighthearted and carefree. Perhaps influenced by him, Yin Yan’s painting also turned brighter in tone, a warm composition of orange hues.

They spent the entire afternoon in silence, yet everything they felt was laid bare on the canvas.

Lu Zhengming was in high spirits. Using the excuse of checking out Yin Yan’s painting, he leaned closer, and when the students weren’t paying attention, he brushed against the back of Yin Yan’s hand, just enough to scratch the itch in his heart.

When Yin Yan was still finishing up his work, Lu Zhengming climbed onto the rocks to watch the tide roll in. The sea breeze ruffled his hair and clothes, as if trying to lift him off the ground.

Glancing back, he saw Yin Yan aiming a camera at him. On impulse, he struck a few dramatic poses.

He felt completely at ease. Even though he hadn’t been drinking, his vision seemed a little blurred, weightless.

For the first time in a long while, he felt as if he had recaptured that fleeting sensation from when he painted Light.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something white. Maybe a seabird? Perfect, he could take a photo with it.

Instinctively, he turned back, only to see Ouyang stumbling across the rocks.

The wind had ripped her painting from her hands, sending it tumbling several meters away before slapping it against another reef. That flash of white had been the canvas.

“Don’t go after it!”

Lu Zhengming shouted, striding forward, but Ouyang didn’t seem to hear him. She had already climbed onto the reef. The strong wind whipped the tide against the rocks, leaving a slick sheen beneath her feet.

“Get down! Ouyang!”

He scrambled up after her, reaching out to pull her back, but at that moment, the wind billowed under her long robe like a black sail, yanking her off balance.

She was swept off the reef and thrown into the sea.

Without a second thought, Lu Zhengming dove in after her.