When Ke Xun came out of the shower, Mu Yiran was on the phone, speaking in English in a low voice.
Ke Xun went to the bedroom, spread out the blankets on the bed, then took his phone back to the living room. Seeing that Mu Yiran hadn't finished his call, Ke Xun gestured to him that he was going out.
Carrying a bag containing Mu Yiran's suit jacket and shirt, Ke Xun first went to the dry cleaners, then to the nearby supermarket, receiving a call from Wei Dong along the way.
Wei Dong: "What's up?"
Ke Xun: "Buying a set of..."
Wei Dong: "Holy crap! You got him so fast?!"
Ke Xun: "...Buying a set of pajamas. Can you let me finish what I'm saying? Your reaction is dangerous."
Wei Dong: "...Damn, more dangerous than you? Who knows what you're planning to do after you've lured him to your house."
Ke Xun: "Spit it out, I need to buy something."
Wei Dong: "Why are you buying pajamas?!"
Ke Xun: "For him to wear. He probably won't be able to leave tonight; he can't even get a train or plane ticket back home."
Wei Dong: "Wow, you even know where he lives. You're a seasoned pro."
Ke Xun: "Get lost, I saw his business card in his pocket."
Wei Dong: "Oh? Tell me, what does Boss Mu do? Is he a real big shot or some celebrity idol?"
Ke Xun: "Anyway, he's definitely a 'boss,' but how big of a 'boss' he is, we'll have to find out later."
Wei Dong: "Your so-called 'boss'..." "The so-called 'in-depth' isn't what I thought, is it?"
Ke Xun: "...I admire you. You're still hanging on by a thread, and you still have the mind to be so lewd."
Wei Dong: "Otherwise what? I can't spend these last thirteen days crying and clinging to my mom's leg, can I? My dad said, 'When you're about to die, you can do whatever you want.' The Wei family, going back eighteen generations, all died with smiles on their faces. I reckon I probably won't be smiling before I die. Dying lewdly is fine
, right?" Ke Xun: "...Our dad's words are quite sharp. Fine, then you can continue being lewd. I'm hanging up now."
Wei Dong: "So what kind of 'big shot' is Mu?"
Ke Xun: "...He's an art dealer. He owns sixteen galleries in eight cities around the world, and also does art appraisal and sales."
Wei Dong: "...Wait a minute—all of this is written on his business card!!"
Ke Xun: "Don't blame me for looking at you like you're an idiot next time we meet—his business card only has the company name on it, I..." Searching his name online will naturally bring up all the results.
Wei Dong: "...Wait a minute...how old is he? He already owns sixteen galleries?!"
Ke Xun: "It's said that when he was fifteen, he had a keen eye and bought a painting by an unknown artist for $50,000, then resold it for $73 million." Wei Dong
: "...I felt a suffocating sensation, like my anus contracting."
Ke Xun: "He's quite famous in the industry, and his personal abilities and aesthetic sense are highly regarded. So, at such a young age, he can own sixteen galleries worldwide. Do you have any doubts?" Wei Dong
: "...I need to catch my breath...one last question, how can you find all this information about him online?"
Ke Xun: "Yes. Not only is there a brief biography of him online, but his birth date, height, weight, measurements, special skills, hobbies, etc., are also very detailed. In addition, there are street photos of him abroad uploaded by his fans on YouTube."
Wei Dong: "Wait, "Wait, wait—he has fans?!"
Ke Xun: "What's so strange about that? These days, delivery guys and takeout guys all have their own fans. Can't a cool, arrogant, and domineering iceberg CEO have hundreds or thousands of fans? I have a hundred or so zombie followers on Weibo."
Wei Dong: "...I think, Boss Renmu is already so awesome that he's not even in our world. He earns billions of dollars, and he even has a fan club and stuff. Although you were elected the school's most handsome guy for three consecutive years and are now a small gym owner, in a global context, it's obvious...we're not on the same level. It's like you, a simple line drawing, wanting to have something happen with a portrait of a person in an oil painting. The style is obviously out of place, don't you think?"
Ke Xun laughed in anger: "Who the hell is a simple line drawing?! You should spend more time thinking and less time imagining! Okay, get lost, I'm going to the cashier to pay!"
He then hung up the phone.
A toothbrush, a towel, a set of pajamas, and a pair of casual shoes.
Mu Yiran's suit trousers were gone, and he probably couldn't wear his suit jacket anymore if he left, so his leather shoes were obviously out of the question.
Ke Xun carried the bag back, pausing as he opened the door to enter the house, remembering what Wei Dong had just said and everything he had found online about Mu Yiran.
He and Mu Yiran, one a prodigy, the other a scoundrel.
They were definitely not from the same world.
Ke Xun chuckled, brushed his hair, and stepped inside.
Mu Yiran was sitting on the sofa, his phone on the low table.
"Not busy with business anymore?" Ke Xun asked.
Mu Yiran asked him expressionlessly, "What brand is your phone?"
Ke Xun laughed, "My phone's dead? Luckily, we use the same brand. The charger's in the bedroom, plugged into the bedside socket."
Mu Yiran picked up his phone and went to the bedroom.
Ke Xun thought to himself, such a big shot, using such a common brand of phone, quite down-to-earth.
Ke Xun was too lazy to hang clothes out to dry, so he bought a washing machine with a dryer. After washing and drying his new pajamas, he took them to the bedroom.
Mu Yiran was sitting on the edge of the bed, charging his phone while continuing to make a call.
Ke Xun walked over and sat down next to him. Just as Mu Yiran hung up and was about to call again, Ke Xun reached out to block him: "Using your phone while it's charging? Aren't you afraid of getting your face blown off?"
Mu Yiran glanced at him, brushed his hand away, and didn't continue dialing. He simply said, "Could you please find me a place to sleep?"
Although time hadn't passed outside while they were in the painting world, their physical functions changed with the time and environment within the painting, and neither of them had slept well for the past few days.
"If you don't mind, you can sleep in this room." Ke Xun put his pajamas on the bed and got up to leave.
As he reached the door, he heard Mu Yiran ask, "Where are you sleeping?"
Ke Xun turned and smiled, "My place is small but complete. The guest room is right across from this room, and there's a study over in the living room. Although there's not much furniture, it's enough for me to sleep."
Mu Yiran stood up, "I'll sleep in the guest room."
Ke Xun waved his hand, "My cronies have ruined the guest room. You can sleep in this room." With that, he closed the door and left.
Mu Yiran stood for a moment, then sat back down on the bed.
The phone screen gradually dimmed in his hand, reflecting his face, which was slightly lost in thought.
After a while, Mu Yiran turned on his phone again, about to dial, but hesitated, switched it to Do Not Disturb mode, placed it on his pillow to continue charging, got up to draw the curtains, and turned back to look at the new pajamas on the bed.
Ice blue, solid color without patterns, only white trim along the edges.
It suited his color and style perfectly; it was clear he had put thought into choosing it.
However, Mu Yiran still picked up the clothes and carefully inspected them, just in case they had anything starting with a B or F printed on them.
He changed into the pajamas, lifted the covers, and lay down on the bed.
The unfamiliar environment made it difficult to fall asleep, so he lay there staring at the ceiling and the white walls around him, habitually analyzing the colors before him.
Ke Xun was a complex person.
He had a carefree, unrestrained, and somewhat irresponsible personality, yet he owned a house with a minimalist, austere style.
White walls, white floors, white furniture, doors and windows with black metal edges, lamps composed of black lines and geometric patterns, cold metallic curtains and pillowcases.
Even the bowls used for eating are pure white porcelain without any patterns or complicated designs.
A person's aesthetic sense is not unrelated to their underlying personality.
Clearly, the photos of him as a teenager are full of warm, sunny tones.
This person is both carefree and serious, both unrestrained and persistent, both warm and full, yet distant and cold.
Mu Yiran didn't sleep long; when she opened her eyes, it was already dark, eight o'clock in the evening.
She changed out of her pajamas, opened the bedroom door, and saw the door to the guest room opposite was open.
Mu Yiran paused, walked to the door, and glanced inside, only to be stunned.
There was no "utter chaos" as she had imagined; instead, it was a pristine white, completely empty. There was no bed, not even a single piece of furniture.
Walking into the living room, she found Ke Xun curled up on the sofa, most of himself deeply sunk in, sleeping like a carefree husky.
Mu Yiran silently looked at him for a while before going to the bathroom.
When Ke Xun was woken by his phone alarm, it was already past nine o'clock at night. The room was dark, with only the distant city lights casting dappled, multicolored light on the walls and floor.
Ke Xun sat for a moment to calm himself, then suddenly sensed something was wrong. He got up and went to the bedroom, finding the door open but the room empty.
He searched every room, even the bathroom, and finally confirmed that Mu Yiran had left without saying goodbye, taking his pajamas, a new towel, a new toothbrush, and even his new shoes.
Ke Xun scratched his head, sat back on the sofa, and looked out at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Perhaps Mu Yiran felt bad seeing him sleeping on the sofa? Maybe he'd already checked into a hotel by now.
Should he call him? Ke Xun fiddled with his phone, having secretly memorized Mu Yiran's number when he saw his business card.
After hesitating for a few minutes, Ke Xun dialed the number.
"My god, my god, guess who this is?"
The deliberately altered tone of the voice coming from the phone made Mu Yiran want to pinch his temples.
"What is it?" Mu Yiran's voice was completely emotionless.
The person on the other end cleared their throat and, returning to a normal tone, told him seriously, "You left something at my house."
Mu Yiran's brow twitched. After thinking for a moment, he couldn't recall leaving anything behind and asked, "What is it?"
"Me." The person on the other end remained serious, but there was a hint of amusement in their voice.
"..." Mu Yiran's face darkened, though the other person couldn't see him. "What do you want?"
"I was just saying, you're too kind," Ke Xun chuckled, scratching his ear on the other end of the phone. "I sleep on the sofa more often than in my bed; I feel safer on the sofa than on my bed. Are you at a hotel?"
Mu Yiran: "...Yeah."
Ke Xun: "Back to S City first thing tomorrow morning?
" Mu Yiran: "Yeah." Ke Xun:
"Shall I take you to the airport? " Mu Yiran:
"No need. I'll borrow your clothes for now, and I'll send them back to you when I get back." Ke Xun:
"Then add me on WeChat, and I'll send you my address."
Mu Yiran: "..." You really know how to seize an opportunity.
Ke Xun: "Give me your address too, I'll pick up your clothes from the dry cleaners tomorrow and send them to you as well."
Mu Yiran: "..."
Ke Xun: "Will our next meeting be in the world of the next painting?"
Mu Yiran: "Yeah."
Ke Xun suddenly didn't know what else to say.
When they met again, it was another suffocating life-or-death struggle.
Next time, he might not be so lucky. If things went smoothly, he might die inside; if things went more difficult, he might face a confrontation with Mu Yiran.
Mu Yiran on the other end of the phone fell silent, perhaps also considering this possibility.
Ke Xun thought that if he were to unfortunately fall into such a situation, he would let him go.
He would let him live, even if he was heartless and ruthless—after all, he was handsome.
As the ultimate face-obsessed person, he couldn't help being so unreasonable even to himself.
Author's Note:
The second chapter, "Faith," has officially begun. Welcome to join our male protagonists in the story!
Also, the sixteen galleries around the world, and the story of buying a painting for $50,000 and reselling it for $73 million, are all based on real events. The real-life prototype is a true tycoon; the artwork he sells exceeds one billion dollars annually. He can even sell a nearly rotting fish for $12 million under the guise of art. So reality is far more legendary than fiction!