MY - 34

The glass of the picture frame shattered.

Lu Nandu frowned.

A second later, Jiang Xi heard him click his tongue, his voice a little impatient: “Damn.”

The car was parked right next to them. To better deal with the situation, Lu Nandu reached out, pulled open the car door, and pushed Jiang Xi inside.

He didn’t look at her, his face grim as he stared at the person on the other side. He slammed the car door shut: “Don’t come out.”

The man was probably forty or fifty years old, with dark skin. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Jiang Xi to have help; his initial fury significantly subsided upon seeing the man in front of him.

Lu Nandu was too lazy to play games with him. His brow furrowed with irritation, he stepped forward and grabbed the man by his collar: “What’s your problem?”

The man was a head shorter than Lu Nandu and instinctively recoiled.

Lu Nandu hadn’t been in a fight since leaving school. Seeing the man’s cowardly demeanor, he chuckled.

“How about I cure your problem?”

The man, at this point, still didn’t forget to bluster, stammering, “If you touch me, I’ll sue your ass!”

“Oh,” Lu Nandu’s tone was languid, but his eyes told a different story, “so you can hit me?”

He grinned: “Sorry, I don’t seem to be that generous; I tend to hold grudges.”

The next second, his eyes turned cold, and he landed a fierce punch on the man’s jaw.

________________________________________

Jiang Xi, in the car, was expressionless and not startled by this. However, her expression faltered upon seeing the shattered painting on the ground.

The wooden frame was broken, and the framing glass was shattered into a web-like pattern.

Beneath the glass was a fiery red expanse, flames soaring to the sky, fiery tongues seemingly roaring to extend their demonic claws from the frame.

Black smoke filled the air, and the window’s protective bars, blackened by the smoke, had been cut.

Firefighters in orange uniforms were about to lift a small girl and a small boy onto a ladder from the windowsill.

The two children wailed, their small faces covered in black soot, desperately reaching back.

But the woman on the windowsill would never hold them again. She still maintained the posture of shielding them with her body, but she no longer showed any signs of life.

Her eyes were closed, her back charred black, and flames licked at the ends of her hair.

Her children cried out for their mother. The little girl, wailing and reaching for her mother, was carried away by the firefighter, her tightly held hand with her mother breaking apart, fingertips separating.

The image froze at this instant.

The title of the work: “Quiet,” with the artist’s name, Jiang Xi, on the label in the bottom right corner.

Jiang Xi’s fingertips trembled slightly, a crack appearing in her otherwise calm expression.

She pushed open the car door and got out, not seeing another person who had rushed out from a blind spot in the stairwell.

Jiang Xi picked up the painting, oblivious to the glass shards digging into her flesh. Suddenly, there was a crisp crack, and an egg shattered on Jiang Xi’s temple.

Viscous egg white and yolk dripped down, landing on the painting, staining the paper.

Jiang Xi’s eyes, fixed on the painting, instantly turned cold. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling on the person who had just arrived.

The boy in front of her was probably in his late teens or early twenties, with a lean build. He was at the age when boys shoot up in height, his complexion somewhat pale, and the look in his eyes was exceptionally stubborn.

Jiang Xi walked towards him. The boy stood silently by the car, watching her.

The next second, Jiang Xi suddenly reached out, grabbed the boy’s collar, and violently slammed him against the car door.

The boy’s back hit the car door hard. Jiang Xi gripped his collar, her eyes very cold.

The boy showed no sign of discomposure, still staring intently at Jiang Xi, then lightly uttered: “You care so much about your work, huh?”

“But you’re not worthy,” he enunciated each word, “plagiarism dog, are you worthy of painting such a painting?”

When he spoke of the “other woman,” his eyes were fierce and resolute.

“Quiet” was the very work Jiang Xi was accused of plagiarizing. She remained silent, staring intently at the boy.

“Your paintings, they’re as lowly as you are.”

________________________________________

Before just a few seconds passed, Lu Nandu noticed what was happening and Jiang Xi had already pinned the person against the car.

The security guard ran out. Lu Nandu handed the person in his hand to the security guard and then walked towards Jiang Xi.

He heard Jiang Xi’s cold voice: “Apologize.”

The boy looked at her, seemingly finding the reason laughable, and smirked disdainfully.

Jiang Xi repeated, “Apologize.”

At this moment, two more security guards ran over, intending to stop the dispute, but Lu Nandu, standing nearby with his hands in his pockets, raised a hand, signaling them not to approach.

The security guards recognized Lu Nandu and asked, “Not stopping it?”

Lu Nandu didn’t look at them, put his hands back in his pockets, and said, “Let her do what she wants. Don’t interfere.”

On the other side, Jiang Xi’s hand, gripping the man’s collar, didn’t loosen an inch. Her fringe was slightly damp with egg liquid.

Looking at the boy’s disdainful and rebellious expression, she said, “Not going to apologize, are you?”

The boy, very pale, curled his lip in sarcasm: “What I dirtied was something you plagiarized.”

He enunciated each word, “Pla-gia-rized. Why should I apologize—”

His words cut short as Jiang Xi slapped him across the face.

Perhaps he hadn’t expected Jiang Xi to actually lay a hand on him. The boy didn’t turn back immediately, his tongue pressing against his cheek. His previously playful eyes instantly turned hostile.

He turned back, seemingly about to make a move.

Jiang Xi was not afraid of him in the slightest, standing perfectly still. The next second, Lu Nandu pulled her behind him.

He blocked the boy’s swinging fist: “Get lost.”

The boy saw Lu Nandu: “Oh, is this the man you’ve recently hooked up with? You seem to be living quite well.”

His words made it seem as though the two were acquainted. Lu Nandu frowned slightly.

The boy looked at Lu Nandu, his eyes filled with mockery: “You have power? Money? Influence?”

Jiang Xi looked at him coldly.

Lu Nandu suddenly chuckled, taking a languid step forward, as if he didn’t even consider the person in front of him to be human.

“I do have everything,” he leaned down slightly, his lips curving upwards, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, “so do you believe me if I say I can make you rot in prison and never get out?”

His features were so strikingly handsome that they exuded sharpness, making the coldness in his eyes even more piercing.

For a moment, a crack appeared in the boy’s expression, fleetingly, and then quickly well-hidden.

Lu Nandu was too lazy to say another word to the person in front of him. Without waiting for him to speak, he straightened up.

Jiang Xi said nothing more.

Tong Yun probably heard the news and rushed over.

Even though Lu Nandu wasn’t her superior, their interests were intertwined. Tong Yun, who always knew how to deal with people, was always deferential towards Lu Nandu.

This happened downstairs at the company, and Jiang Xi was an artist under her, so Tong Yun had some responsibility. Protecting the safety of artists under her care was originally the company’s responsibility.

“CEO Lu,” Tong Yun said, seeing Lu Nandu’s unpleasant expression, “I’m sorry you encountered something like this on your visit.”

After saying that, she wanted to question the boy for a bit and then let him go.

________________________________________

People who attack artists usually have a more extreme personality than average people. If you take them seriously and send them to the police station, they’ll only retaliate more fiercely once they’re released from detention.

Tong Yun was about to speak but was interrupted by Lu Nandu: “Help me send him to the police station.”

Tong Yun wasn’t surprised that Lu Nandu would say this; after all, this person had laid hands on Jiang Xi.

She didn’t ask further questions, which actually saved her trouble, and responded with a smile: “Okay.”

Jiang Xi still had something on her hair. Lu Nandu led her into the car.

After getting into the car, Jiang Xi said nothing, looking down slightly at the painting on her lap.

This was the last painting Jiang Xi made three years ago. Since then, she had never completed another one.

The painting was stained with egg liquid. Jiang Xi instinctively used her sleeve to wipe it.

The framing glass was shattered. Lu Nandu, with quick reflexes, grabbed her hand: “You’ll hurt your hand.”

Only then did Jiang Xi realize.

Lu Nandu saw that she wouldn’t try to wipe it again and wanted to take the painting from her arms.

This time, Jiang Xi refused: “I’ll hold it myself.”

Lu Nandu knew the painting held significant meaning for Jiang Xi, so he let her.

Jiang Xi’s gaze swept over her painting. This was the painting with which she had won an award in a prestigious art competition three years ago. Logically, it shouldn’t have appeared here.

Lu Nandu happened to ask, “Why was that person holding this painting?”

Jiang Xi glanced at him, shaking her head: “I’m not sure.”

She herself didn’t know why the painting was in those two people’s hands.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in her peripheral vision. Lu Nandu was using a wet wipe to clean the hair by her cheek.

Only then did Jiang Xi remember that her fragmented hair on her cheeks was still sticky with egg white. She reached for the wet wipe in Lu Nandu’s hand: “I’ll do it myself.”

Lu Nandu didn’t obey her, saying, “Just hold your painting.”

Perhaps she was a bit tired today, so Jiang Xi didn’t insist.

The car was quiet. Suddenly, Lu Nandu asked, “You know that person?”

Jiang Xi, who had been looking down, lifted her gaze upon hearing this.

Lu Nandu met her gaze.

After a moment of silence, Jiang Xi averted her eyes and hummed: “Ren Shenghai’s son.”

In the past, Jiang Xi was a student of Ren Shenghai. Students like them knew a bit about Ren Shenghai’s private life, and they had met his family.

Lu Nandu didn’t ask her anything further.

________________________________________

After all this commotion, dinner was out of the question. Lu Nandu didn’t ask for her opinion and drove directly back to his own house.

Jiang Xi had a natural talent for painting. Her works were exceptionally spirited, which was why she was particularly appreciated by Professor Ren Shenghai after entering university.

Ren Shenghai had a scholarly appearance, looking gentle and kind. In the field of art, Ren Shenghai held considerable influence, and his works were historically renowned. Coupled with his gentle personality, he was greatly respected by students.

Jiang Xi was no exception. Ren Shenghai often helped her with her studies. On holidays, she would visit him with her classmates, bringing gifts.

In his youth, Ren Shenghai partnered with friends to establish a studio. Later, as his own fame and fortune grew, his art studio’s reputation also soared.

Many art students from the academy desperately wanted to secure a position there, thus the entry bar for Ren Shenghai’s studio was extremely high.

Jiang Xi was Ren Shenghai’s star pupil. In her senior year, even before graduating, she smoothly entered Ren Shenghai’s studio for an internship, and later continued her postgraduate studies while maintaining her livelihood through this job.

Some people are born favored by heaven. Back then, Jiang Xi was seen as such a person in the eyes of her peers: gifted, blessed with luck, everything went smoothly for her.

To say she wasn’t envied would be impossible.

There would be many whispers, both open and subtle. Jiang Xi had heard quite a few herself, but she never cared.

Too many people are unwilling to acknowledge others’ brilliance and never offer a sincere compliment. Once someone achieves something they can’t obtain in a lifetime, they’ll find many absurd reasons: luck, unethical dealings, connections. There are thousands of reasons, but they will never genuinely admire the person from the bottom of their hearts.

They said Jiang Xi and Ren Shenghai had an ambiguous relationship, saying Jiang Xi’s paintings weren’t good at all, and she only relied on her face to mislead people.

________________________________________

No matter how many rumors there were, none of them were true. Hearing them only made one realize the extent of human malice. Jiang Xi would not let these things affect her.

In her second year of graduate studies, Jiang Xi participated in a competition.

This competition held considerable authority in the art world. If an artist won a relevant award with their work, they would gain both fame and fortune for the rest of their lives.

During those two months, Jiang Xi suffered from insomnia due to a lack of inspiration, and everything she painted ended up in the trash.

Just a few days before the competition, she dug out an old painting. It was a painting she had spent a long time on during university, not for a competition, nor for any event.

It was just a painting for her mother.

Jiang Xi and Jiang Chi’s mother passed away in that fire when they were a few years old, but the two children were safe in her arms.

That painting was Jiang Xi’s personal experience.

During her university days, Jiang Xi would go to the art studio to paint whenever she had free time, not seeking speed, but diligently and carefully painting for several hours each day.

One time, Ren Shenghai came to the studio and happened to find her working on this painting. The layering was well-handled, and the painting style was delicate and beautiful.

But perhaps due to her young experience, it always felt like something was missing.

Many of Jiang Xi’s works had been guided by Ren Shenghai, and that year, he also gave her some guidance on this painting.

After three years, revisiting that painting, Jiang Xi could already find some flaws. She brought the work to the studio to discuss with Ren Shenghai, sharing some of her insights.

That time, Ren Shenghai’s attitude was as good as ever, guiding her on several points.

Jiang Xi began painting day and night again. Because she had personally experienced that fire, every flame from her brush seemed to have substance, burning the heart with pain.

Jiang Xi forgot to eat and sleep, putting almost all her energy into it. Every time she finished work at the studio, she would immediately take out her painting and work until the early hours of the morning before leaving.

One day, Jiang Xi painted for several hours straight, and the work was officially completed. By the time she realized it, dawn was breaking.

She got up and pulled open the curtains. Outside, the sky was showing a faint glimmer of light, and a sliver of sunlight fell upon the painting.

After three years of not painting, this work had been refined to become increasingly outstanding, every stroke deliberate and impactful.

It was a still image, yet it felt as if one were truly there.

Later, as expected, this painting won an award. That day, Jiang Xi’s future looked bright, her path ahead smooth.

That night, her classmates congratulated her, and friends clinked glasses with her, all filled with joy and laughter.

________________________________________

In the early hours of the morning, Jiang Xi returned to the studio to retrieve some items and unexpectedly encountered Ren Shenghai, who was still there.

As she was leaving, Jiang Xi greeted him.

Ren Shenghai sat behind his desk, like any good teacher, smiling as he congratulated Jiang Xi.

“Congratulations.”

At that time, Jiang Xi did not know the meaning behind these two words. She thought this teacher she admired was wishing her a bright future.

On the day of the award ceremony, her world turned upside down.

The light was gone.

Her colleagues, who had just congratulated her, stood below the stage, denouncing and attacking her. They held a painting Ren Shenghai had done two years prior, cursing her for plagiarizing even her teacher’s creativity, for plagiarizing for selfish desires.

When a wall collapses, everyone pushes it down.

Jiang Xi stood under the spotlights, watching the vast crowd below, thousands of mouths clamoring with questions, the order of the event completely disrupted.

The crowd, bright lights. They claimed to be righteous.

Jiang Xi couldn’t find any evidence to prove she hadn’t plagiarized.

Her rather naive draft from three years ago had disappeared. The studio’s surveillance system had evidence of her discussing the painting she made three years ago with Ren Shenghai, but it all vanished.

An suffocating net had already enveloped her seamlessly.

She was helpless.

After that day, Jiang Xi learned that Ren Shenghai had been eyeing her painting since three years ago. He coveted her inspiration, painting style, and core concept. On the surface, he remained composed, still playing the role of a gentle and refined mentor, but unknowingly, he had plagiarized her work.

Those few years were Ren Shenghai’s bottleneck period. He knew how good this painting was, and he was confident he could gain much fame and fortune from it, ascending to higher and more distant places.

And Jiang Xi became the sacrifice.

This competition had never encountered such a scandal. No matter how much Jiang Xi insisted she hadn’t plagiarized, the other party showed no appreciation. Even if Jiang Xi hadn’t plagiarized, she had already caused damage and a negative impact on the competition. Her award was canceled that very day.

The event and the school had a partnership. The plagiarism incident generated too much discussion and had too negative an impact. The school expelled Jiang Xi due to public opinion.

In just a few days, Jiang Xi completely fell from grace, mocked by thousands, ridiculed by millions.

Her unfinished studies, her planned overseas advanced studies, a bright future—she lost everything.

All that was left was infamy.

They said connecting Jiang Xi’s name with painting was an insult.

Even a paintbrush was no longer something she was deemed worthy of holding. Her beloved painting became like a cage, trapping her in endless darkness.

She could no longer paint anything.

________________________________________

Jiang Xi hadn’t dreamed of these things for a long time. The moment she broke free from the nightmare, she suddenly opened her eyes.

The faint light of the wall lamp entered her eyes.

The bedroom light wasn’t very bright. She was lying on Lu Nandu’s bed.

Jiang Xi turned her head and saw Lu Nandu sleeping by her pillow, face down.

Perhaps because she was on the bed, he didn’t climb up, just sat on the floor beside her pillow, his long eyelashes obediently lowered.

He desperately wanted to get closer to her, but was afraid of annoying her, so he restrained himself with great effort.

He took great pains to find such a safe distance.