I bought a litter box and cat food, then headed home. While I was settling the kitten, he took the bag of meat and headed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Naturally, I didn’t dare follow; I had already seen enough at the clinic. I made some space in the living room for the cat, then went to the kitchen to unpack the lamb chops, eggs, and vegetable soup packets I had just bought.
While simmering the soup, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling from my earlier encounter with Qing Ze. I couldn’t help but open his WeChat, pulling him out of my blacklist, and checking his Moments. The latest posts were full of posed shots and selfies, but the weird thing is that the photos show him either holding a guitar or drinking by the pool. It was completely different from his usual posts, where he flaunted his artwork and shared his painting process. Moreover, in the photos, he was either positioned on the far left or far right, with the composition seeming very odd, like a couple’s photo, deliberately leaving space for an invisible person.
The more I looked at it, the more unsettled I felt, so I put him back on the blacklist.
When I brought out dinner, I saw him sitting on the sofa, studying the small box again. He even took one out, and my hands shook, almost dropping the plate on the ground.
“What are you looking at!” I put down the lamb chops and reached out to grab them but he stood up. He was tall and had long legs and held the condom high up. I couldn’t reach it.
“What exactly is this?” He looked down at me, his gaze dark and heavy. “It has the word ‘contraception’ on it. You’re not a woman, so why would you need this? Did you get involved with a woman and keep it for her?”
F*ck…
There was no way out of explaining. I gritted my teeth, endured the embarrassment, turned my face away, and struggled for a long time before finally squeezing out the words: “It’s for you… to use. So that you don’t… every time… get it inside. It feels too cold.”
There was a brief silence.
“How do you use it?” When he spoke again, his voice was already hoarse.
I glanced downward—sure enough, I had ignited a fire in him.
“T-Today won’t work… I’ll teach you next time.”
“You said it yourself.”
Fortunately, over the next few days, due to my unwell state, the condoms remained unused. Once I restocked my paints, I stayed home with Tunshe Nalin, painting him all day. However, I could never get far, every time, he would claim that the way I looked at him was “seducing” him, using it as an excuse to tease me relentlessly in the studio. Though he never truly went all the way, it was enough to leave me weak and drained. As a result, five or six days had passed, and the sketch he had forced me to start that night was still only at the base coloring stage.
“Tunshe Nalin…”
Once again, he teased me until I was drenched in sweat. I bit his hair in frustration, my grip on the paintbrush nearly snapping it in half. The air was thick with the scent of our entanglement, far stronger than the ever-present smell of paint in the studio. This place had completely become his altar, where he indulged in tasting his sacrificial offering, which is me.
“When you painted Ming Luo, did you look at him with the same eyes?”
How would I know what kind of look I had? I just kept shaking my head, thinking he would let me go and handle it himself like he had the past few days. But instead, he scooped me up and carried me straight to the living room sofa.
A cold, indifferent object was pressed into my palm. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I checked yesterday, and you’ve recovered. Ranran, should your husband’s patience be rewarded after these few days?”
The next evening, when I woke up and saw the condoms scattered all over the floor, I immediately felt that buying them was like digging a hole for myself, one that was massive and without a bottom.
Because, unfortunately, this particular kind had an aphrodisiac effect, and Tunshe Nalin’s desires were insatiable. He used up half a box in one night, and the other half was gone by noon. I cried and told him countless times that a box wasn’t meant to be used in one go, but it was all in vain.
“Control yourself, Tunshe Nalin… there are eight in a box! Are you even human?”
“I’m not.”
“……” He really wasn’t. This guy didn’t even need to sleep, he could go on without rest, never tiring or reaching his limit. I was on the verge of tears. “Next time, I f*cking swear that I’ll never buy these again.”
“Fine, if you won’t buy it, so be it,” He said, kissing my forehead under the blanket. “It’s all this thing’s fault, teaching me to be stuck on you all day, unable to get up.”
Is it really the f*cking condom’s fault? You’re really good at making excuses for yourself, aren’t you?
Luckily, I’m not a woman, or I’d have enough kids right now to form a soccer team!
I could feel him getting worked up again, so I pressed my knee against his lower abdomen, biting my lip. “Get up, it’s been a whole day and night. My body is weak, do you want to send me to the hospital again?”
He kissed my ankle softly, reluctant to leave, before getting up and carrying me to the bathroom.
After finishing up in the bathroom, I received a call from Cheng Wan. Glancing at the time, I suddenly remembered, it was an important day tonight, the cocktail party that Flavio would be attending!
I quickly got dressed and tidied up Tunshe Nalin, then hurriedly set off.
“This venue is reserved for the night. May I ask if you have an invitation, Sir?”
I handed the electronic invitation Cheng Wan sent me to the receptionist at the door and glanced inside. In the dim lighting, the air was thick with the scent of perfume, and figures moved in and out of view. Many familiar faces appeared, celebrities from the domestic art scene, as well as a number of foreign artists who had participated in YICCA. I am not a social person and seldom attend such occasions. And since I was meeting my idol, I couldn’t help feeling a little awkward.
Once inside, hearing the relaxed music and the constant hum of conversation, I felt a little more at ease. It was a gathering of artists, after all, so it couldn’t be too formal or stiff.
I grabbed a cocktail and scanned the room, looking for the person from the photos. Suddenly, a burst of familiar laughter reached my ears. I frowned and followed the sound to the indoor campfire area on the second floor. There, leaning back and laughing uncontrollably, was the pink-haired young man, none other than Qing Ze.
Beside him was Flavio. He looked younger than in the photos, no older than his early forties, with wild, white hair cascading freely. He wore an extremely stylish red suit with very wide shoulder pads, paired with a pair of women’s knee-high boots. His outfit was bold, just like his artistic style and brushstrokes. Trying to suppress my excitement, I moved toward them, but suddenly, Tunshe Nalin tightly gripped my hand. I glanced at him and saw his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression clearly displeased.
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at him. Your eyes are burning. When we first met, you looked at me the same way. Don’t go over there, or… I’ll turn him into a corpse slave.”
I was startled. “What kind of look? He’s my idol! He’s someone I admire because he’s reached artistic heights I could never attain. I have absolutely no ulterior motives! Besides, he’s so much older, and his appearance can’t even compare to yours. Why are you competing with him? You’ve already agreed to this, and I’ve also agreed to let you… do whatever you want. How can you go back on your word?”
“I’m also, old.”
“But you’re my muse now… haven’t I already… become yours?”
His brows relaxed slightly, as if my words had calmed him down, and his grip on my hand loosened a little.
“Yo, is Abmer here?”
Hearing that irritating voice, I couldn’t help but furrow my brows as I looked toward the person descending the stairs. A thought crossed my mind—truly, fate has a way of bringing enemies together.
I don’t know if my words hit his nerves or something else, but Qing Ze’s expression looked terrible, as if all his energy had been drained. His cheeks were slightly sunken, but his eyes were surprisingly bright. As soon as we stepped into the elevator, he fixed his gaze on me and Tunshe Nalin, a smile spreading across his face. “Qin Ran… I knew you’d show up. Come to steal the chance to join the European group exhibition from me. But unfortunately, this time, I won’t lose to you. Even if you have the world’s best muse, it won’t matter. Right now, I don’t need anyone to be my muse, my inspiration flows endlessly on its own.”
I stared at him, a strange feeling rising in my chest. Before I could process it, he had already stepped off to the right, disappearing into the corridor leading to the restroom.
“Hey, Abmer!” Leo’s familiar voice rang out from the camp, and I looked up to find him there as well. Flavio had clearly noticed my arrival too. His gaze landed on my face, and he waved with a smile, but immediately, his attention shifted to Tunshe Nalin beside me. His hand froze in mid-air, as if momentarily stunned. I was taken aback for a moment, realizing that he must have felt the same shock I did when I first saw Tunshe Nalin. No artist could remain unmoved by such a living masterpiece.
He didn’t snap back to reality until we reached him, then he gave me a faint smile.
“Flavio…” I looked at him excitedly, unsure of what to do. I pulled a pen from my pocket. “Could you sign your name for me? On my shirt? I’ve always regretted not being able to study under you when I was abroad, and I’ve always hoped to have a chance to speak with you face-to-face.”
“Your new work is amazing. I’m sorry I didn’t choose you as my student back then.” He said with a soft smile, elegantly taking the pen from me. He signed his name on my shoulder, and I gazed at it, the signature as bold and unique as his artwork. In that moment, my mood soared, like I was floating up to the sky.
“Thank you.” I said, lifting my head, but then I noticed his gaze had shifted to Tunshe Nalin, fixated on him with an almost dazed expression. My mood took a sudden turn, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare.
“Your muse…” He made an exaggerated, tongue-twisting sound, and I understood it. It was Italian, meaning breathtakingly beautiful. I smiled and patted Tunshe Nalin on the back.
“He praised you for being good-looking.”
Tunshe Nalin nodded slightly with an expressionless face.
I was taken aback for a moment as I saw Flavio holding up a sketchbook and a pencil, smiling at me. “May I sketch him, dear Abmer?” He asked, his tone gentle yet eager.
My emotions, which had soared to the skies, suddenly plummeted, crashing into an icy river. My idol hadn’t come because he appreciated my art, but because he was interested in my muse.
“May I draw you, divine being of the human world?” When I didn’t respond, he turned to look at Tunshe Nalin, his eyes openly filled with awe and desire.
