Cohen Phillips had finished two steaks by himself before Baldur Morgan replied.
[Baldur Morgan: Went out to eat? With whom?]
He casually took a photo and sent it.
[Cohen Phillips: By myself.]
[Baldur Morgan: Quite the ambiance, even when dining alone.]
[Cohen Phillips: Mhm.]
[Baldur Morgan: Go home and rest after you're full. It's cold outside, don't wander around. I'll call you tonight.]
[Cohen Phillips: Understood.]
Cohen Phillips got up, paid the bill, and left the restaurant.
On the last day of 2023, the weather was nice.
No snow, even a bit of sunshine.
Cohen Phillips strolled leisurely along the street.
Passing a DIY oil painting shop, he paused, turned around, and pushed the door open.
"Welcome~"
The young female shop owner was petting a large cat by the cash register.
Hearing the bell on the door, she looked up and greeted him automatically.
"Hello, can I paint now?"
The sight that met her was a beautiful youth.
Lucy Burke's eyes lit up, and she became even more enthusiastic.
"Of course! Let me show you."
Cohen Phillips's gaze lingered on the large cat for a moment before he followed her.
"The paints, paper, and frames here are all available for use. We also offer delivery service, but it's charged by the hour, a bit expensive, seventy dollars per hour."
Lucy Burke chattered on with the introduction.
"It's New Year's Eve today, so I'll be closing at 4:30 PM. Um... if you think that's too rushed and might affect the quality, maybe come back in a few days?"
Cohen Phillips took off his long coat.
"It's fine."
"Alright. You're probably the last customer this year, so I'll give you a 50% discount."
"Thank you."
Lucy Burke grinned sheepishly.
"Then take your time painting. If you need a drink or anything, just call me anytime."
"Okay."
Cohen Phillips sat on a small stool, spread the canvas, rolled up his sleeves, and started mixing paints.
He had materials at home too, but he hadn't gotten around to setting up a proper studio yet.
He didn't want to dirty the living room carpet, so he hadn't been painting with oils.
Compared to sketching or digital art, oil painting was Cohen Phillips's favorite.
He loved the way vibrant colors blended on a large scale, allowing what he saw and imagined to be expressed vividly and thoroughly.
Cohen Phillips painted with deep concentration.
Lucy Burke didn't dare disturb him, sitting by the cash register playing with her large cat.
Time passed bit by bit.
Lucy Burke, who had started dozing off, jolted awake at the sound of a call and hurried over.
"Yes? What is it?"
Cohen Phillips, sitting on the small stool, looked up and said, "Boss, I'm finished, but the paint isn't dry yet. Can I leave it here? I'll pick it up the day after tomorrow."
"Of course, of course."
Lucy Burke looked at the painting and gasped in admiration.
"Wow! You finished it in just four hours? The posture and spirit are so lifelike! May I ask... is this your friend?"
Cohen Phillips looked at the man in the painting – chin resting on his hand, handsome and dashing with a commanding gaze, his casual posture exuding an air of nobility.
His gaze softened.
"My boyfriend. He wanted me to give him a portrait."
Lucy Burke grew even more excited, desperately trying to suppress her smile.
"Your boyfriend is really handsome, and you're very good-looking too. You're a great match!"
"Thank you."
His eyes curved into smiles.
He took out a palm-sized painted board from his side and handed it over.
On it was a charmingly naive depiction of the large cat, the paint still wet.
Lucy Burke took it blankly, recognizing it as her own cat, currently sprawled asleep on the counter.
"This is..."
"A New Year's gift for the kitty."
Cohen Phillips quite wanted to keep a cat himself, but he lacked the time and energy, afraid he wouldn't take good care of it, so he had dismissed the idea.
When he came in and saw the plump, cute cat, and found he still had time, he just casually painted a small one.
"Thank you! It's so cute! You've captured him perfectly!"
Lucy Burke said delightedly, turned and ran to the counter to fetch the large cat, holding the small board in front of its face.
"Look, the pretty gentleman painted this for you. A New Year's gift. Say thank you, Sir."
The large cat lifted a pudgy paw.
"Meow meow..."
Cohen Phillips couldn't resist and stroked its head.
"You're welcome."
"Meow~"
He checked the time and stood up.
"Boss, you'll be closing soon, right? I'll wash my hands and be on my way."
"Okay."
When settling the bill, Lucy Burke refused to take any money, but Cohen Phillips still paid $270 for the time.
"Hey! I said I'd give you half off!"
"It's fine."
Lucy Burke looked somewhat annoyed.
"How about you leave me a contact number? When the painting is dry, I can deliver it to you. Don't worry, I'm great at framing; I frame all the paintings in the shop myself."
Cohen Phillips nodded.
"Alright. Thank you."
"Aiya, you gave our big cat such a nice New Year's gift. This is nothing."
After adding each other on WeChat, Cohen Phillips put on his coat.
"I'll be off then, Boss. Little Kitty, Happy New Year."
Lucy Burke, holding the cat's paw, waved with a smile.
"Happy New Year, pretty Sir."
"Meow..."
Cohen Phillips left the studio and called a car.
He had just gotten in when he received a call from Kerry Phillips.
It was Anthony Ferguson who spoke.
"Cohen, where are you? Hurry home."
"On my way."
He muttered complained.
"Who sent you so many international packages? You're not here to receive them, so I have to move them for you..."
Remembering the various messages in the group chat that afternoon, Cohen Phillips laughed.
"Thanks for the hard work, Sis-in-law. I wish you and my brother eternal love, forever together."
"Humph. Hanging up. Going back to being your manual labor."
When Cohen Phillips got home, Anthony Ferguson was standing with one hand on his hip, taking stock of the small mountain of packages piled in the living room.
Kerry Phillips was in the kitchen preparing dinner.
"I'm back."
Anthony Ferguson shot him an irritated look.
"Come check if anything's missing."
Rubbing his nose, Cohen walked over.
"Probably not..."
"Who sent you all this stuff?"
He sat cross-legged on the carpet, casually picking up a package.
"New Year gifts from my riffraff friends."
"Heh. You certainly have a lot of those 'riffraff friends'."
Cohen Phillips nodded, tapped open a muted WeChat group chat: 'Riffraff Friends (21)'.
It was flooded with thank-you messages, too chaotic to look at properly.
He also casually sent a few thankful emojis and exited the chat.
Anthony Ferguson sat down beside him.
"Aren't you going to open them?"
He found a utility knife.
"Let's see..."
Kerry Phillips had been busy in the kitchen by himself for two hours.
He brought the dishes to the table.
"Cohen, Anthony, stop playing. Come eat."
Cohen Phillips put down the knife and stood up.
"Coming."
Anthony Ferguson remained seated, frowning as if questioning life itself.
"Go help bring out the dishes. Be careful," Kerry Phillips instructed his brother.
He dried his hands and walked over to pull Anthony up.
"What's wrong?"
Anthony held out his hands.
In his left was a pigeon-egg-sized pink diamond.
In his right, a yellow diamond brooch.
"What kind of 'riffraff friends' give New Year's gifts worth millions?"