MTLY | Chapter 20

◎Holy shit——◎

Song Tinghuan felt that she might have, to some extent, bitten the hand that fed her by slapping Jiang Yu with the label of “asshole vase”.

The atmosphere in the living room turned strange. Han Jingjing raised her brows slightly, her gaze shuttling between Jiang Yu and Song Tinghuan. “Mm, you two talk. I’ll go take a look first.”

Taking advantage of the fact that Jiang Yu’s attention wasn’t on her at all, Han Jingjing slipped away in a flash and happily ran upstairs.

Jiang Yu came down the stairs and stopped in front of Song Tinghuan, looking down at her from above.

There was still a hint of watery brightness in his dark, heavy eyes from just waking up. He looked a little gentler than usual, but he was still not easy to fool.

Song Tinghuan suppressed her embarrassment and fluster, swallowed, and said, “You said it yourself, that you’re an asshole.”

On her very first day at the Jiang family’s house, Jiang Yu had told her that.

Maybe because she still felt guilty, Song Tinghuan’s voice was very small, like a mosquito’s buzz.

Dressed in loose dark gray loungewear pants, Jiang Yu kept both hands in his pockets and looked down at her. “You’re pretty good at distancing yourself from this. Not stupid.”

Song Tinghuan choked a little. “Thanks for the compliment.”

Jiang Yu: “…”

Too awkward.

Song Tinghuan wanted to slip away from Jiang Yu, but he caught her collar and yanked her back. “Since Student Song Tingting is so smart and so eloquent, please continue helping me maintain my image.”

Song Tinghuan: “?”

“An asshole vase, huh? Pretty fresh. I’ve never played that role before.”

“…”

Jiang Yu lifted his chin, all big-shot attitude. “Go upstairs and keep an eye on Han Jingjing. Don’t let her touch anything.”

“Why don’t you go yourself?”

“Sleepy.”

“…”

In the end, Song Tinghuan still dragged her feet all the way up to the third floor.

On her first day at the Jiang family’s house, the maid had told her not to go to the third floor. So this was Song Tinghuan’s first time setting foot here since coming to the Jiang residence.

There was only one room on the third floor. The hallway had been cleaned thoroughly, neat and spotless. When Song Tinghuan pushed the door open, thin, soft sunlight streamed in through the gridded window, giving a gentle sheen to the sheets of paper covering almost an entire wall.

In the vast room, one whole wall was covered with drawings, stretching dozens of meters from childish scribbles to scenery and figures with a style of their own.

In one corner of the spacious studio stood a glossy black piano. By the wall were two ukuleles and a guitar. Following the wooden staircase upward, there should have been an attic, and the door was shut.

Song Tinghuan had never imagined the third-floor room would look like this.

In another corner of the studio, Han Jingjing was crouched in front of an easel, fussing with the paints stored underneath it.

Hearing footsteps, Han Jingjing turned around, and she didn’t seem surprised at all by Song Tinghuan’s appearance. “That big-shot sent you up to keep watch over me?”

Song Tinghuan nodded, then seemed to think that the word “watch” was impolite, so she hurriedly shook her head too.

Han Jingjing laughed at her dazed expression. Thinking of a certain insanely arrogant someone, she curled her lip. “He thinks everyone’s like him, huh, protecting these things like they’re treasures.”

That said, when Song Tinghuan looked at Han Jingjing’s movements, she saw that Han Jingjing was just as careful when touching those paints, handling them with exceptional tenderness.

Standing there in silence was a little awkward, as if she really had come to “watch” her. Song Tinghuan pressed her lips together. “I heard, Senior, that you’re an art student. Like Yiliang-senpai, are you also studying painting?”

Han Jingjing burst out laughing. “Yiliang-senpai? If Li Yiliang knew someone was calling him that, he’d probably be so happy he couldn’t sleep for three days and three nights.”

Song Tinghuan: “…”

Han Jingjing blinked at her. “Hey, junior, call me ‘Jingjing-jiejie’ and let me hear it.”

Song Tinghuan: “?”

Maybe it was because the girl in front of her was too beautiful, but Song Tinghuan suddenly felt her cheeks heat up. Seeing her blushing face, Han Jingjing looked like she had discovered a treasure. “You’re kind of cute, you know? No, wait, very cute.”

Song Tinghuan: “…”

She thought Han Jingjing’s personality was a little all over the place, but not annoying.

Han Jingjing lowered her head to tidy up the paints. With nothing to do, Song Tinghuan studied the room seriously again.

The paintings on the wall ranged from immature to skilled, clearly recording a person’s growth. Song Tinghuan saw the two characters “Jiang Yu” written on a sheet of paper and hadn’t expected him to be able to paint, let alone paint so well.

Looking through them one by one, Song Tinghuan discovered that Jiang Yu liked painting starry skies very much, all kinds of starry skies. There were also some figures and landscapes, most of them from another person.

Jiang Yan.

So it wasn’t just one person, it was two.

“Jiang Yan.”

Song Tinghuan slowly read the name out loud, but Han Jingjing, who had been crouching all this time, suddenly stiffened all over.

The girl had a slender frame, and even that stiffness lasted only an instant before she relaxed again.

“He painted very well,” Han Jingjing said, her voice uncommonly gentle, completely unlike her usual coolness.

Song Tinghuan froze slightly. The “he” Han Jingjing meant was… Jiang Yan?

She hadn’t even heard that name before.

Knock, knock.

Song Tinghuan turned her head. Jiang Yu was leaning lazily by the door. He had changed clothes, into a loose white T-shirt and black pants. Seeing that Han Jingjing was still crouched on the floor, Jiang Yu frowned a little. “Hurry up.”

“I know, stop rushing me.” As she spoke, Han Jingjing picked up a stack of paint boxes. When she passed by Jiang Yu, she had intended to shoot him a fierce glare, but then heard Jiang Yu remind her softly, “Behave yourself. Don’t make noise and wake him.”

Han Jingjing fell silent for a moment. Her voice was very low. “Mm, I know.”

Song Tinghuan looked at the atmosphere between them as it suddenly went quiet and blinked.

Who was “he”…?

She knew enough not to pry. Turning away, she looked at the paintings on the wall. She also liked painting. She had studied a little when she was young, but later Song Mingcheng said he liked the piano, so she went to learn piano.

But in truth, she liked painting more.

“What are you spacing out for?”

A statement, not a question.

Before she knew it, Jiang Yu had already walked to her side and was looking down at her. Song Tinghuan curved her eyes and pointed at the paintings on the wall. “You painted all of these?”

The girl’s tone was full of disbelief. Jiang Yu sneered. “Oh, no, the ghost painted them.”

Song Tinghuan: “…”

Song Tinghuan stopped in front of a somewhat special oil painting.

The paper depicted huge clusters of begonia blossoms. It seemed to be after a rain. A clear sky hung with a curved rainbow, and the pink-and-white begonias covered the branches. Lush and swaying. Beneath the tree stood two people, both seen from behind. The coloring was still a bit immature, but one could vaguely make out a young man and woman. The woman had a slender figure and was wearing a qipao.

A qipao?

Song Tinghuan suddenly thought of the first time she saw Meng Shutang, standing beneath the begonia tree. So the man and woman in this painting were Uncle Jiang and Auntie Shutang?

Her gaze landed on the signature, and Song Tinghuan saw two names: Jiang Yan, Jiang Yu.

She slightly turned her eyes and found that Jiang Yu was also looking at the painting.

The boy tilted his head up, and in his eyes was a cup full of rosy light, like the begonia blossoms of spring, flushed with rouge.

Song Tinghuan thought, the name “Jiang Yan” must be very important to Jiang Yu.

“If you want to ask, then ask.”

“Huh?”

Jiang Yu lowered his eyes to look at Song Tinghuan’s soft, dark pupils. “Your curiosity is so obvious it’s practically growing horns.”

“…”

Song Tinghuan’s fingertips moved. If she still had a shred of reason left, she almost would have reached up to touch her own head.

Seeing her blank little expression, Jiang Yu chuckled softly, his brows and eyes lowered, eyelashes hiding the loss in his gaze.

“Want to try?”

“Try what?”

She felt a warm touch brush over the back of her head, and Song Tinghuan’s heart skipped hard. Jiang Yu had already walked past her to stand in front of the easel. Song Tinghuan felt the hair at the back of her head go warm. Pushing away the strange sensation and emotion, she stepped forward. “Try what?”

“Why are you always so dazed?”

“…”

Jiang Yu picked up a paintbrush from the rack. “Want to try? I feel like… you should really like painting.”

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have run to the library specifically to look at art books.

Song Tinghuan fell silent.

The paintbrush was already held out in front of her. It was something she had always liked, and she really couldn’t refuse. Looking at the boy’s long fingers, distinct at the joints and full of strength, Song Tinghuan seemed infected by it and took a deep breath before accepting the brush.

But once she truly faced the canvas, Song Tinghuan’s mind was as blank as the canvas in front of her.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Yu asked.

“I…” The tips of Song Tinghuan’s ears, peeking out from beneath her hair, turned a little red. “I can’t.”

Jiang Yu froze slightly. He’d never expected that answer.

Song Tinghuan didn’t feel embarrassed, just a little awkward. “The last time I studied painting was when I was eight.”

Jiang Yu: “…”

“Do you think I’m being too ambitious? I’ve only just learned the basics of sketching, but I went to look at a master-level book like *Art Appreciation*. Actually, I myself…”

“What does it matter?” Jiang Yu curved his lips and very naturally covered the back of Song Tinghuan’s hand, taking hold of the paintbrush. The boy’s breath was clean and cool as he asked softly by her ear, “What do you want to draw?”

Song Tinghuan actually caught a trace of unusual gentleness, even though Jiang Yu and that word did not go together at all.

“Draw… a rabbit, maybe.”

As soon as she said it, she thought it sounded a little embarrassing. It should have been something more high-end.

A warm laugh sounded by her ear. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

Song Tinghuan pressed her lips together and looked at the spring begonia painting on the wall. She actually didn’t know which part of the painting had been done by Jiang Yu. Going by her own feeling, she said, “Can I draw a rainbow?”

A rainbow.

Jiang Yu also subconsciously looked at the painting on the wall. He had drawn that painting when he was ten. Most of it was actually completed by Jiang Yan. The only thing he had drawn was that rainbow.

Just as Song Tinghuan thought she had overstepped and that Jiang Yu definitely wouldn’t be willing to draw, warm breath brushed her ear.

“Sure.”

A single syllable, carrying the usual lazy tone of the boy, but seemingly with something else mixed in too.

Song Tinghuan couldn’t tell what it was.

Her hand was taken in his, and only then did Song Tinghuan realize that her whole body was almost enclosed in front of Jiang Yu. The boy’s clean scent overflowed in her nose and breath.

Jiang Yu held her hand and gripped the brush. His palm was warm, and his body temperature always seemed higher than hers. The soft brush tip landed on the canvas, and Jiang Yu guided her hand, slowly laying down a smooth stroke on the white surface.

One stroke, as if starting from the painting paper and falling straight into the heart.

Jiang Yu lowered his eyes and looked at the girl’s soft crown of hair. Her eyelashes were long, black as crows’ feathers, not curled upward at all, but hanging densely downward like a little fan.

“If you like it, why didn’t you keep learning?”

Jiang Yu had heard some things about Song Tinghuan’s family situation from Meng Shutang. Although she came from a single-parent family, her father loved her very much and raised her like a little princess.

“My dad likes the piano.”

Because my dad likes the piano, I gave up the painting I liked.

Did she regret it? Not sticking with her own choice? Maybe. But every time Song Tinghuan saw Song Mingcheng smiling happily while listening to her play the piano, she was also very happy.

Jiang Yu didn’t ask her whether she regretted it. He only curved his lips slightly. “It’s still not too late to learn now.”

“Really?” Song Tinghuan looked at him, brightness rippling through her soft dark eyes.

“Mm.”

On the canvas, Song Tinghuan dragged a line crooked with one stroke. Jiang Yu was still loosely holding her hand, and he gave a very serious assessment: “You’re very talented.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

The boy laughed softly. “Really, I’m not lying to you. Talent is something mysterious to begin with. How do you know the crooked line you drew won’t be the work of a future master? A line Barnett Newman painted when he was alive was later auctioned for seven hundred million.”

Song Tinghuan remembered his WeChat avatar. He had said he’d drawn it by imitating Newman.

“Do you really like him that much?”

“Mm, I like that one line of his can sell for seven hundred million.”

“…”

He really knew how to kill the mood.

“But I don’t even have time to learn right now.” Song Tinghuan was already being driven crazy by schoolwork. She really couldn’t spare any extra time or energy for painting.

“Does painting make you happy?” Jiang Yu suddenly asked an offbeat question.

Song Tinghuan turned slightly. From this angle, she could see the boy’s clean, sharp jaw and thin lips.

Her gaze skimmed upward and found his straight nose bridge, his dark eyes fixed in seriousness.

The moment Jiang Yu lowered his eyes slightly, Song Tinghuan quickly pulled her gaze back. Looking at the rainbow already taking shape on the canvas, the corners of her lips curled. “Happy.”

“Then isn’t that enough? If doing one thing can make you happy, that in itself is already very precious.”

Song Tinghuan understood a little, but also felt a little lost. Precious?

Maybe.

Happiness is actually very simple sometimes.

Jiang Yu could see her confusion, so he only curved his lips. “If you can’t figure it out, then don’t think about it. Anyway, being happy is definitely right. Your little brain just isn’t that smart to begin with, so it’s not suited to stuffing so much into it.”

Song Tinghuan: “…”

How could he attack her personally like that.

“You’re not much better than me.”

“Hm?”

“No.” Song Tinghuan denied it.

But Jiang Yu really didn’t study much. She often saw him typing furiously at a computer. In the past there were a lot of boys in her class like that too, always playing games. Wasn’t Li Yiliang by Jiang Yu’s side exactly that kind of person?

Sure enough, Li Yiliang was a terrible topic to bring up. Song Tinghuan had only just thought of him when his distinct, booming voice suddenly rang out: “Holy shit——”

Song Tinghuan turned around and saw Li Yiliang standing at the studio door, his face full of gossip and shock.

Author’s note:

Li Yiliang: Next, I will personally witness, from start to finish, the birth of a new species. Its name is, a two-faced dog (Jiang Yu).

Jiang Yu: …Get lost.

Next chapter returns to midnight, with a tiny little red packet~