AVRL 20

Even if he could wear clothes, Meng Chi still didn’t intend to agree.

He had a feeling that if he said yes, something might happen that would put him in an awkward position.

“No thanks. I really don’t have the time.”

Yu Tingzhi looked at him in silence for a moment, then didn’t press further.

“If you change your mind, feel free to contact me anytime.”

Meng Chi had no intention of changing his mind; he just smiled and let the matter drop.

About two minutes later, Yang Zile came back with She Shan. As expected, Yang Zile had been sneaking drinks—he returned holding half a glass of cocktail.

She Shan, on the other hand, carried two glasses of whisky. When he handed one to Yu Tingzhi, Yu Tingzhi glanced at Meng Chi.

“My Ge can’t drink,” Yang Zile explained, noticing the look.

“Hm?” Yu Tingzhi asked. “Alcohol allergy?”

After one meal and one round of drinks, Yang Zile had clearly gotten familiar with these two artists. He didn’t hesitate to spill Meng Chi’s secrets: “No, it’s just that his tolerance is terrible. When he drinks too much, he tends to go crazy.”

Meng Chi: “…”

She Shan laughed heartily twice: “How exactly does he go crazy?”

Yu Tingzhi also turned to look at Meng Chi, who shot Yang Zile a sidelong glare and defended himself: “Don’t listen to this brat’s nonsense. I don’t have some kind of condition that makes me go crazy. I’m driving later, so I can’t drink anyway.”

Catching Meng Chi’s death glare, Yang Zile naturally didn’t dare to keep running his mouth. He quickly said, “Right, right, right—he’s driving. Actually, his tolerance is pretty decent.”

She Shan smiled and didn’t pry further. Shifting the topic, he asked Meng Chi if he had time in the next couple of days to come take a look at the photos and help him decide which ones to exhibit.

Before Meng Chi could answer, Yang Zile agreed on his behalf.

“Isn’t that symposium the day after tomorrow at the convention center?” Yang Zile said to Meng Chi. “You could swing by on your way there—perfect timing.”

With it put that way, what else could Meng Chi say? He could only reply, “I’ll see how it goes. If I have time, I’ll drop by.”

She Shan smiled: “Up to you. But you have to come on opening day—we’ll all have dinner together. All the models will be there, and as the centerpiece, you’re not allowed to skip out.”

“…”

Centerpiece—as if they were debuting some model boy band.

Meng Chi grumbled internally but didn’t refuse aloud.

Before long, Du Feng came looking for them, asking if they were done soaking and it was time to head back. Meng Chi and Yang Zile said their goodbyes. They’d only taken a couple of steps when Yu Tingzhi suddenly called out, “Meng Chi.”

Meng Chi turned back to see Yu Tingzhi picking up his phone, which he’d left on the soft couch, and handing it to him.

Meng Chi walked back, took the phone, and said, “Thanks.”

Yu Tingzhi gave an “Mm” in reply, then added, “See you the day after tomorrow.”

The day after tomorrow, they did indeed see each other again. Not at She Shan’s exhibition hall, but at the symposium itself.

In addition to the panel discussions, the event also featured exhibitions related to traditional culture—woodworking, calligraphy, traditional Chinese painting, tea ceremony, and other cultural categories each had their own small section for product displays.

After the tea ceremony panel ended, Meng Chi wandered around the venue. When he reached the calligraphy exhibition area, he heard someone respectfully say, “Old Master Yu is here too.”

Out of curiosity about Yu Tingzhi’s grandfather, he turned to take a closer look—and then spotted the famed calligrapher, along with Yu Tingzhi standing beside him.

Yu Tingzhi’s grandfather had graying hair and appeared older than Yang Zhengfeng. He wore a well-fitted black Zhongshan suit, stood tall and straight without the slightest stoop, and exuded a refined, scholarly aura—clearly a man of great culture who had been exceptionally handsome in his youth.

In fact, Yu Tingzhi didn’t resemble his grandfather much in appearance, but their temperaments were somewhat similar—both carried a faint, aloof pride.

Meng Chi was standing somewhat far back, so Yu Tingzhi didn’t see him. But Meng Chi could hear the people surrounding them flattering Old Master Yu first, then moving on to praise Yu Tingzhi—words like “extraordinary bearing” and “distinguished appearance” flowed endlessly. Some even asked about Yu Tingzhi’s age and whether he had a girlfriend.

Girlfriend? The extraordinary, distinguished Teacher Yu doesn’t like women.

Meng Chi thought to himself. Just then, he looked up and saw Du Feng waving at him, so he walked over.

Yu Tingzhi was clearly used to such occasions. He brushed off the questions with a casual “No, and no plans for now,” then accompanied Yu Zhengmao to the lounge.

“Don’t you usually dislike these kinds of events?” Yu Zhengmao studied Yu Tingzhi. “Why did you suddenly come today?”

“She Shan is setting up a photography exhibition downstairs. I came to help, and I thought I’d come up and see you while I was at it,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Yu Tingzhi didn’t have many friends, so Yu Zhengmao had heard of those he did keep in touch with. He nodded: “That kid is doing well now. When the exhibition opens, I’ll go take a look too.”

Yu Tingzhi hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking briefly toward the tea ceremony exhibition area to the side.

“Don’t you ever want to hold an art exhibition of your own?” Yu Zhengmao asked again.

Yu Tingzhi withdrew his gaze and shook his head: “No plans for now.”

Yu Zhengmao eyed him for a moment, then let out a sigh: “Being a teacher isn’t bad, but it’s still somewhat underutilizing your talents.”

Yu Tingzhi smiled faintly and said nothing.

They hadn’t spoken long before someone else came over to chat with Yu Zhengmao. Yu Zhengmao told Yu Tingzhi to go attend to his own affairs, so Yu Tingzhi left.

Du Feng had come to find Meng Chi because they’d run into a major client at the cocktail party. The client specifically asked for Meng Chi, thanking him for helping him avoid being scammed before the New Year.

This client, surnamed Chen, was in his forties and had a face like a smiling Buddha. He was one of the event’s organizers. Meng Chi had met him because Mr. Chen had nearly been tricked while shopping for purple clay teapots at the porcelain factory before the New Year—Meng Chi had warned him, saving him from buying defective goods and wasting money.

Mr. Chen was also a tea enthusiast. When he heard that Meng Chi was a tea master, he took a liking to him and had bought quite a bit of tea from Youran Teahouse.

In fact, Youran Teahouse didn’t quite qualify to participate in this event on its own; they’d been specially invited thanks to Mr. Chen. It was getting late, and Yang Zhengfeng had never liked cocktail parties. He and Du Feng didn’t stay long; they left Meng Chi to chat with Mr. Chen and headed back first.

Mr. Chen kept Meng Chi talking for a long time—moving from tea to teapots and back to tea again, half-persuading and half-toasting him into downing two glasses of champagne. When someone called him away, he told Meng Chi not to leave just yet—they’d continue their conversation later.

The cocktail party was well-heated and crowded, inevitably noisy. Watching Mr. Chen walk away, Meng Chi stood for a while before starting to feel a bit dizzy. He wanted to step out for some fresh air—and then ran into Yu Tingzhi, who was heading downstairs.

Because he was attending the cocktail party, Meng Chi had broken from his usual style—neither casual nor retro-Chinese—and dressed in a serious, formal suit.

A black blazer and white shirt, paired with a dark blue tie embroidered with subtle silver patterns. His bangs, usually falling over his forehead, were combed back and fixed with hair gel, fully revealing his handsome face. His entire aura shifted from free-spirited and approachable to composed and capable—much more refined than usual.

The indoor temperature was high, and he’d been drinking, so a faint blush had risen on his face, making him look all the more vivid. Meng Chi loosened his tie, exposing his long, elegant neck and sharply defined collarbones. With that small mole beneath his well-defined brow and the smile on his lips, a touch of his characteristic roguishness peeked through the otherwise immaculate formality.

Yu Tingzhi looked at him and suddenly felt that the Meng Chi before him had become a different person—the suited Meng Chi overturned his previous impression, yet deepened his understanding of who he was.

“Teacher Yu?” Meng Chi loosened his tie and turned his head to see Yu Tingzhi standing at the end of the corridor. “What are you doing standing there?”

Yu Tingzhi: “Waiting for the elevator.”

Meng Chi glanced at the indicator lights beside the elevator and nodded with an “Oh.”

“Want to come along?” Yu Tingzhi asked.

Meng Chi made a puzzled sound from his throat and asked, “Where to?”

“She Shan’s exhibition hall. It’s just downstairs,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi stared at the elevator floor numbers ticking up, as if in thought, until the numbers stopped and the doors opened. Only then did he seem to snap back and say, “Sure.”

Once inside the elevator, the surrounding noise faded away, and silence enveloped them. Meng Chi let out a long breath of wine fumes, then turned to Yu Tingzhi and asked, “Did you come here with Old Master Yu today?”

Yu Tingzhi hummed in affirmation.

===Chapter 18===

Meng Chi nodded: “I attended Old Master Yu’s calligraphy lecture earlier.”

“Oh?” Yu Tingzhi asked. “Are you interested in calligraphy?”

“Not really,” Meng Chi said with a smile. “He said so much, but I didn’t understand a word of it.”

A faint smile appeared on Yu Tingzhi’s face: “If you want to learn, I could teach you.”

“No, no, no,” Meng Chi waved his hands repeatedly. “My chicken-scratch handwriting isn’t something I’d want to show off.”

Just as he finished speaking, the elevator arrived, and the two walked out one after the other.

The exhibition halls here hadn’t opened yet, so there were no people and no lights on—only a few illuminating lamps in the corridors. The temperature was much lower than upstairs, though fortunately not too cold.

After walking about a hundred meters, Meng Chi spotted a large, brightly lit exhibition hall ahead. In his line of sight, several framed photos were already on display, covering themes of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

As soon as he stepped into the hall, Meng Chi came face to face with a life-sized nude photo of himself—and was rendered speechless.

She Shan had really done what he said, placing that photo at the center, and enlarged it many times over, occupying nearly half the wall.

“Isn’t this a bit over the top?” Meng Chi’s mouth twitched.

Yu Tingzhi looked up at the photo, his eyes—without glasses—showing a hint of appreciation: “No, it’s very beautiful.”

For some reason, Meng Chi felt his face grow warm. He didn’t linger on it and continued walking further in.

She Shan was directing a few workers to place photos in suitable positions. When he spotted the two of them, he merely waved in greeting and went back to yelling instructions about shifting the photos left and right. Meng Chi wandered around on his own.

The exhibition was nearly complete. Besides Meng Chi, there were indeed many other models—men and women, young and old. The works incorporated elements of guzheng, go, calligraphy, and more. Quite a few of the well-proportioned male and female models had partially exposed bodies, yet there was nothing suggestive about it. Meng Chi couldn’t quite articulate it—all he could say was that the photos were highly artistic.

As he walked, Meng Chi stopped in front of a calligraphy-themed photograph. In it, besides the elegant cursive script flowing across rice paper, there was also a hand holding a brush.

“Is that you?” Meng Chi turned back to ask Yu Tingzhi.

Yu Tingzhi seemed surprised that he’d recognized it and nodded, saying, “Yes, that’s right.”

Meng Chi clicked his tongue with satisfaction, squinting at the hand in the photo with appreciation.

Nice hands make everything they do look good.

With that thought, Meng Chi turned his head and let his gaze fall on Yu Tingzhi’s hand hanging at his side: “Those hands of yours—maybe they were born to create art. No, actually, those hands are art in themselves.”

Hearing this, Yu Tingzhi slightly raised his own hand: “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Meng Chi nodded, taking a couple of steps closer to Yu Tingzhi. A hint of fascination crept into his gaze as it rested on that hand, and he sighed, “Not only are they pleasing to the eye, but you’re also quite skilled with all kinds of handiwork.”

Yu Tingzhi glanced sideways at him and suddenly asked, “Are you flirting with me?”

Meng Chi paused for a second, then lifted his half-lowered lashes to meet Yu Tingzhi’s gaze.

After a moment of eye contact, Meng Chi suddenly reached out with his left hand and placed it in Yu Tingzhi’s palm, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He traced slow circles in Yu Tingzhi’s palm with his warm fingers, and dropped his voice to a low murmur: “This is what flirting looks like, Teacher Yu.”