“Who told Brother to corrupt me.”
This bout was like a sudden storm, fierce and hurried. The scene resembled the aftermath of a typhoon—fortunately, Lan Yan’s dress remained unstained. The only victim was Liang Jingchuan.
At two in the morning, the long street grew even more silent.
Liang Jingchuan straightened Lan Yan’s dress and softly asked, “Shall I take you home?”
Lan Yan shook her head. She simply leaned against him, hugging him without a word.
“Are you angry?” His voice still carried a gravelly huskiness. “Sorry, I was just a bit…”
Lan Yan shook her head again.
Liang Jingchuan lowered his head and kissed her forehead, where thin sweat had evaporated, leaving it slightly cool. “Talk to me, Yanyan, or at least look at me. Otherwise, I won’t know what you’re thinking.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you actually cared that much.” Lan Yan asked softly. “That day, when you said you weren’t jealous anymore, you were lying too.”
“Because it was my own fault; I couldn’t blame anyone else. Why didn’t I dare take that step toward you sooner? Why did I wait until someone else appeared by your side to realize my feelings for you included possessiveness?”
“So you weren’t entirely honest either.”
“…Yes.”
“Then let’s both be more honest from now on.”
“Okay.”
“Then be honest with me right now: why do you have condoms in your car?”
“…”
“Come on, you bastard. Were you pretending to be angry just to smoothly get in the car with me and…” She couldn’t even say the word.
“If this was pretend, could you handle the real thing?” Liang Jingchuan chuckled lightly. “I keep them in the car just in case…”
“What kind of ‘in case’?”
“The kind like tonight.”
“…I’ve realized your mind is full of nothing but this stuff. I don’t want to talk to you. Don’t speak to me.”
“Then can you get off my lap first?”
“…”
When the car reached the entrance to her neighborhood, Lan Yan got out, hugging two bouquets of flowers and carrying several gifts.
Liang Jingchuan remained in the driver’s seat, showing no intention of getting out.
“…Aren’t you coming?” Lan Yan asked.
“To your place?”
“What else?”
“I can’t get out, Yanyan. Don’t you know what state my pants are in?”
“…” Lan Yan’s face heated up. “Who told you to mess around.”
Liang Jingchuan smiled. “You go up on your own. I’ll come find you after work tomorrow.”
They had grown accustomed to clinging together and falling asleep in each other’s arms for so long. This abrupt end left Lan Yan with an unfamiliar sense of discomfort.
She paused for a moment. “Mm… okay. See you tomorrow. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Lan Yan walked inside with the flowers and gifts, her steps unconsciously slowing.
As she entered the neighborhood gate, she suddenly stopped.
After a moment, she steeled herself and turned back—being teased by him a couple of times wouldn’t be a big deal.
But just two steps out, she saw Liang Jingchuan circling around from the front of the car.
Liang Jingchuan spotted her too and paused in surprise. She immediately turned and hurried inside.
With his long legs, he caught up in a few strides, draped an arm over her shoulder, and laughed softly. “Coming back for me?”
Lan Yan tugged at the clean clothes on him. “You even have spare clothes, huh? Is toying with me fun?”
He often kept a set of clean clothes in the car because he sometimes played ball or swam after work. Though since being with Lan Yan, that habit had been hanging by a thread.
“Fun.”
Lan Yan twisted her shoulder to shake off his hand but failed. She tried to quicken her pace, only for him to grip her waist.
“I know you can’t bear to part with me,” Liang Jingchuan said with a laugh, leaning down.
“I don’t.”
“We just said we’d be honest.”
“Have you been?”
“I was planning to go home, Yanyan. You need proper rest too… but in the end, you saw what happened.”
The corners of Lan Yan’s mouth curved up slightly. “So who’s the one who really can’t bear to part?”
“It’s always been me who can’t bear to let you go.”
Lan Yan let out a light hum.
Their two shadows merged on the ground. They walked ahead to overtake it, leaving it behind, only for it to slowly catch up again. And so it repeated.
Like a long road, endlessly enjoyable.
/
Three days later, Chen Boyu finally appeared at the company.
His dejection was visible to the naked eye, but the anger from that night seemed to have dissipated, barely perceptible anymore.
During the regular meeting, Chen Boyu spoke little. At the end, he rose directly and headed to his office.
Liang Jingchuan stopped him.
Chen Boyu glanced at him, his gaze cold.
“Yanyan says she wants to talk to you,” Liang Jingchuan said, his attitude even cooler.
Chen Boyu froze, as if suspecting he’d misheard.
Liang Jingchuan grew impatient. “If you have time, I’ll arrange it.”
“I do.”
Liang Jingchuan couldn’t help frowning. He’d assumed Chen Boyu would say something like “Nothing to talk about.” He hadn’t expected such a straightforward agreement. For the first time, he felt tempted to go back on his word.
Liang Jingchuan wanted to settle this mess quickly. Once he confirmed both sides had time, he decided there was no time like the present.
Lan Yan had nothing that evening and went along with Liang Jingchuan’s arrangement.
Chu Lansun didn’t encourage overtime unless it was urgent rush work. As six o’clock approached, he began wrapping up the day’s tasks.
Lan Yan covered the back of the painting with a damp towel for preservation and suddenly asked, “Master… how long until we get the report for that sample we sent for authentication on this painting?”
“About three or four more days. Why?”
“Nothing…”
“This is your first time dealing with something like this, right?”
“Yeah.”
Chu Lansun said calmly, “You’ll encounter all sorts when you’ve restored enough paintings—digging out signatures, altering signatures, adding signatures, switching schools… Craftsmen are craftsmen, experts are experts, merchants are merchants. Each trade has its ways. Some matters run deep; playing deaf and dumb isn’t always a bad thing. Our duty as craftsmen is to restore as the client requests. For instance, this signature—we put it back where it originally was. Sometimes, fulfilling the obligation to inform is enough.”
Lan Yan nodded. “I know, Master.”
After work, Liang Jingchuan came to pick her up in his car.
They ate dinner together, then headed to an art park by the river nearby—she didn’t want him overhearing her conversation with Chen Boyu, but he insisted on keeping them in his line of sight. They compromised on an outdoor spot.
The art park featured an abstract sculpture where they arranged to meet Chen Boyu.
After dropping her off, Liang Jingchuan crossed the bridge to the other side of the river and sat on a bench, looking toward the opposite shore.
Of the exes meeting, Chen Boyu was the uncomfortable one.
He subtly sized up Lan Yan, sensing something unfamiliar in her aura—like a glacier frozen for years thawing in early spring, the river water flowing slowly as ice chunks clinked together.
Slightly cold, yet vibrant.
“What do you want to talk about?” Chen Boyu directed his gaze at a lamppost hidden in the grass nearby.
“Of course, about Liang Jingchuan.”
“…If you’re referring to him planning to part ways with me, that’s between him and me.”
“Is it? In your last funding round, how much did Radiant Chess Ventures invest?”
“…Trade secret,” Chen Boyu replied.
“I checked the reports. The public figure was tens of millions. Regardless of the exact amount, I want to ask: how big a role did that invitation from President Ye play in connecting with the Tang Family?”
Chen Boyu frowned without answering.
“I’m not flattering myself—let’s say it accounted for thirty percent. Factoring that in, is this sum enough to trade for an amicable parting?”
“…That’s not how you settle accounts, Lan Yan.”
“I could have calculated it that way originally, but I didn’t hold it against you when we broke up. Chen Boyu, you used me to get the chance to negotiate further with Radiant Chess. Will you deny that?”
“…I won’t deny it. Sorry. Though things are set, and you probably don’t need my apology.”
It was rare for him not to deflect or change the subject this time.
Not entirely beyond saving.
Lan Yan paused, then said, “I’m restoring a painting.”
Chen Boyu glanced at her, unsure why the topic shifted.
“Dong Bangda’s painting.”
Chen Boyu was stunned.
“The one President Ye brought. I don’t usually pry, but during restoration, I noticed some unusual details, so I asked President Ye’s assistant a couple questions. You gave that painting to President Ye, right?”
“…What are you getting at?” Chen Boyu grew slightly wary.
“I heard President Ye plans to gift it to a business partner as a birthday present once it’s restored. Before that, you should be honest with President Ye—admit you misjudged it. The painting is a fake.”
“…That painting is a fake?” Chen Boyu was shocked.
Lan Yan gauged his expression and confirmed he truly hadn’t known. “Yes. Dong Bangda’s works vary in value. This one’s signature was dug from one of his cheaper pieces and patched on. We used instruments to verify—the signature and the original painting body aren’t on the same type of paper.”
Chen Boyu’s expression turned grave. He said nothing.
“We sent samples to an authoritative institution for a report, which should come in a few days. Then we’ll inform President Ye. Chen Boyu, you have a head start of a few days. I think it’s different if we tell him versus you proactively coming forward.”
Lan Yan looked at him. “That invitation, plus this info—together, enough weight for an amicable parting? Do you think so?”
Before giving the painting to President Ye, Chen Boyu had it authenticated by someone, but some fakes could only be spotted by removing the backing paper.
The expert had deemed it genuine, so he’d confidently gifted it.
If he now informed President Ye it was a fake and replaced it with a real one, there might still be salvage. With Radiant Chess leading the last round and pulling the company from the brink, President Ye was the “gold master” Chen Boyu couldn’t afford to offend.
Chen Boyu’s thoughts churned chaotically. After a long while, he spoke: “…You’re giving me this crucial info ahead of time just for Liang Jingchuan?”
“Why ‘just’? Isn’t it reason enough for him?”
“…You’ve never touched these worldly matters before. Now, for him, you’re negotiating deals.”
“Because he deserves it.”
Chen Boyu’s expression froze as if struck hard.
“I understand plenty; I just disdain doing it. How to put it, Chen Boyu—I put up with your family banquets more than once for your sake back then, but you took it as your due, not seeing its value.”
Chen Boyu pressed his lips together silently.
“I could stay out of this entirely, but whether as friends or lovers, returning the favor is essential. Liang Jingchuan is both your close friend and your right-hand man. Setting aside all external factors, you should treat him fairly. He definitely won’t say these things to you—he’s too proud, and with business and personal matters tangled, he can’t even open his mouth.”
“…I haven’t shortchanged him, Lan Yan. Salary and shares are above market average. The current disagreements can be negotiated. Since he built the company from scratch, why leave?”
“Because you could exploit me without a second thought; he can’t. He benefited from the funding, but it was built on using me—he couldn’t feel at ease with that.” Liang Jingchuan had never said it outright, but Lan Yan knew clearly.
Chen Boyu’s face looked as if he’d swallowed a stone whole.
Lan Yan glanced toward the opposite riverbank. Through the night and thin mist, she couldn’t make out Liang Jingchuan’s expression, but she knew he’d been watching her.