AVRL 30

This cultural series photography exhibition had been in preparation by She Shan for over a year. It would not only be shown at the Zewu Convention Center but would also have several touring exhibitions in other cities, each time incorporating new local cultural elements.

On the opening day, many media outlets were present. Yu Tingzhi arrived a little late because he had to pick up his grandfather. As he entered, She Shan was standing at the microphone, delivering a speech in front of a bank of cameras.

Yu Tingzhi guided Yu Zhengmao to their reserved seats and sat down. Seeing the two of them, She Shan gave a slight nod and continued his eloquent speech.

Yu Tingzhi sat quietly with lowered brows, his gaze sweeping the venue. He didn’t see Meng Chi, and then he thought of the courier package he’d received that morning, which left him somewhat distracted. It wasn’t until She Shan mentioned his connection with the tea series model that Yu Tingzhi shifted his attention back to the podium.

Yu Tingzhi had long heard She Shan recount the story of how he and Meng Chi first met—back when he first saw the painting Wild Spring.

In She Shan’s description, the teenage Meng Chi was a rebellious youth full of aggression. After dropping out of high school, he had drifted through bars and nightclubs, scraping by on odd jobs.

The first time She Shan saw Meng Chi, he was fighting—in the back alley of a bar, he’d beaten off a thug who had tried to molest a drunk girl. The thug was taller and stronger than him, but Meng Chi won.

After driving the man away, when the girl thanked him, still shaken, the teenager said coldly, “You don’t have to treat me to a meal—just give me cash.”

She Shan found it amusing and watched a little longer. He saw Meng Chi pocket a hundred yuan, lean against a lamppost, and light a cigarette for himself.

In the swirling white smoke, the teenager’s face was expressionless—numb yet vivid. She Shan’s heart stirred, and he immediately raised the camera hanging around his neck.

Click. The teenager turned his head and gave him a calm glance: “Watching the show is one thing, but taking a picture too—have you never been hit before?”

Under the lamplight, Meng Chi had blood seeping from his temple, his expression cold. Though he was clearly still a youth, there was a weary, world-worn air about him. She Shan was instantly captivated and began pestering Meng Chi to be his model.

Listening to She Shan talk about the young Meng Chi, Yu Tingzhi formed an image in his mind of a reckless, unruly kid. So when years later, by chance, he ran into the grown-up Meng Chi after a rear-end collision, and saw him well-dressed, courteous, and polite, Yu Tingzhi almost didn’t recognize him.

And when he saw Meng Chi sitting at the tea table, he found it even more fascinating.

When brewing tea, Meng Chi was enveloped in an air of tranquil elegance, casting aside all worldly distractions. His movements were free and unrestrained, still carrying that sharp edge from his youth.

Yu Tingzhi felt he was like a camellia growing among wild brambles on a mountain—a wondrous blend of fierceness and stillness.

Whether it was the teenage Meng Chi he had imagined in his mind or the adult Meng Chi who had become a tea master, Yu Tingzhi found him extraordinary and couldn’t help letting his gaze linger.

“Did you paint this too?”

As the centerpiece of the exhibition, the enlarged photograph naturally drew crowds of viewers. Even Yu Zhengmao, who had never appreciated nude art, stopped in front of it and asked Yu Tingzhi if the painting on Meng Chi’s back was his work.

“Yes.” Yu Tingzhi looked up, his gaze resting on Meng Chi’s quiet, focused eyes.

Yu Zhengmao nodded with considerable approval. After admiring it for a moment, he added, “Around the waist and abdomen, the brushwork could perhaps be a bit more concise.”

Yu Tingzhi didn’t respond, but he thought of how, when he’d been smearing paint over the scar on Meng Chi’s side with his fingers, all he’d wanted was to linger and knead that spot—how could he have been concise?

Hearing no reply, Yu Zhengmao turned to glance at him. Seeing him staring absently at the photo, he asked, “Tingzhi, you seem a bit distracted today. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Yu Tingzhi said. “I was just thinking that he might not suit overly sharp brushwork.”

At that, Yu Zhengmao looked again at Meng Chi in the photograph. He didn’t see anything inappropriate, but he was still satisfied with Yu Tingzhi’s thorough consideration.

The exhibition hall was crowded and noisy, so Yu Zhengmao didn’t stay long. After a brief meeting with She Shan, he left.

Yu Tingzhi didn’t leave. He wandered through the hall alone and heard many people discussing the composition of the works, the clever use of light and shadow, the model’s expressiveness, and so on—mostly words of praise.

It wasn’t until he stopped in front of the behind-the-scenes shot that She Shan had taken during the test shoot that Yu Tingzhi overheard two young girls whispering that the hand in the photo was really beautiful, and that the model was handsome too, but the picture was a bit on the erotic side.

“That waist with that hand—tsk tsk tsk—of course it’s erotic.”

===Chapter 27 section===

Yu Tingzhi cast a glance at the two young women. The smile hadn’t yet appeared at the corners of his mouth when he heard a somewhat aged male voice beside him, carrying a note of indignation: “Young people these days—I don’t know what goes on in their heads!”

Having said that, the elderly man shot a dissatisfied look at the two girls, shook his fan, and walked away.

Yu Tingzhi stood behind him. Due to the angle, he couldn’t see the old man’s face clearly, only his profile—a truncated brow arching slightly upward, etched with displeasure. A strange sense of familiarity struck him. Yu Tingzhi turned to take another look, and then saw She Shan tugging at his tie as he walked over.

“Hey, finally free. I’m exhausted.” As the star of the day, She Shan had swapped his usual casual demeanor for a crisp, serious black suit, his shoulder-length hair tied back.

“Your grandfather left?” She Shan asked.

Yu Tingzhi withdrew his gaze and nodded.

“Then why didn’t you leave?” She Shan knew that Yu Tingzhi didn’t much care for crowded places. Then, as if something had occurred to him, he looked at Yu Tingzhi’s impassive face. “You’re not waiting for Meng Chi, are you?”

Yu Tingzhi glanced at him. “No.”

That denial was utterly unconvincing. She Shan let out a couple of amused snorts. “Don’t bother waiting. He’s not coming.”

“I know,” Yu Tingzhi said calmly.

In truth, he hadn’t known that Meng Chi didn’t plan to come. He’d just realized that since he still hadn’t shown up by now, he surely wasn’t coming.

After all, it was an important occasion, and Yu Tingzhi was also dressed formally today. Though he hadn’t made any particular effort, his looks were already eye-catching enough. In a suit, that innate aristocratic air about him became even more pronounced. Even with his aloofness, people passing by couldn’t help but steal a second glance for the sheer pleasure of it.

“Don’t just stand here—you’re making people stop looking at my photos,” She Shan said, pulling him a few steps toward a quieter area. Once they were in a more peaceful spot, he asked, “What’s going on with you and Meng Chi? I felt something was off last time at the hotpot place. Is he not coming because he’s avoiding you?”

Yu Tingzhi lifted his eyelids and shot She Shan a cold look.

She Shan’s mouth twitched. Seeing him so tight-lipped, he couldn’t be bothered to press further and said, “I’m joking. He’s not coming because he’s gone to the countryside—to Xichi—to source tea.”

“Xichi,” Yu Tingzhi murmured the name, his expression thoughtful.

“Yeah,” She Shan said, not noticing his changed demeanor, and continued, “I heard Yang Zile mention it. Said his master got upset because he modeled for me.”

“Tsk, don’t you think his master’s got a screw loose? What’s there to be upset about? I spent nearly a hundred thousand buying up all his aged tea. If it weren’t for Meng Chi, who’d want to buy… Hey, where are you going?”

Yu Tingzhi pulled his phone out of his pocket and stepped aside. “Making a call.”

She Shan: “…”

No shit, I can see you’re making a call. But did you not hear me talking to you? What call is so urgent you have to make it right now?

Yu Tingzhi had no time for She Shan. He found the academic director’s number and dialed. After a few brief words, he hung up.

She Shan, who had overheard the entire conversation, raised his eyebrows high. “You’re going to Xichi too?”

Yu Tingzhi neither confirmed nor denied, simply putting his phone back in his pocket.

She Shan swore under his breath and sighed. “You’re really going after him across a thousand miles.”

Yu Tingzhi replied coolly, “Watch your words. It’s a business trip.”

She Shan: “…” Do you think I believe that?

Xichi wasn’t far from Zewu—just a two-and-a-half-hour drive. Besides being known as the land of green tea, Xichi was also a tourist destination, boasting strange mountains and peculiar rocks, ancient temples and pagodas, and scenic landscapes of considerable renown.

As the home of green tea, Xichi’s spring tea drew tea lovers from across the country and even around the world. Every spring tea season, many enthusiasts would travel here, some even staying with the tea farmers themselves, joining them in picking and roasting the leaves, personally taking part in the production of spring tea. These people were called the farmers’ “tea kin.” Not only could they taste the first brew of early spring, but they could also experience the hardships and rewards behind tea production.

Among these tea enthusiasts were some who simply loved tea and came for the novelty, as well as merchants like Meng Chi who were in the tea business.

When Meng Chi had first started learning tea ceremony, he would spend a month here every year. In the beginning, he stayed with his grandmaster—that is, Yang Zhengfeng’s tea ceremony master. Later, when the grandmaster moved to Qingfeng Temple halfway up Qingfeng Mountain to cultivate himself, Meng Chi began staying at inns.

Over the years, he had gotten to know many tea farmers in Xichi and had become a “tea kin” to some of them. Jiang Hong was one such person.

A few years earlier, Jiang Hong had married and, using her husband’s family’s two self-built villas, opened a bed-and-breakfast. The villas were spacious, with a large garden attached. Jiang Hong had a good head for business: she set up a distinctive awning, partitioned off a large open hall, and tidied up the garden a bit, creating an open-air teahouse where passing travelers could rest and have tea.

Every year around this time, she reserved one room for whoever came from Youran Teahouse to buy tea. When she saw that this year’s visitor was Meng Chi, Jiang Hong’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

“You’ve been here three days, and business has been better each day than the last.”

Meng Chi woke from his afternoon nap as dusk was approaching. Yawning, he walked into the courtyard and saw that almost all the wicker chairs outside were occupied by travelers—mostly young people, both men and women, sitting in small groups and chatting over tea.

“These art students who come to sketch stay at the youth hostel next door every year,” Jiang Hong said with a click of her tongue. “If my place were bigger, that money wouldn’t be going to them.”

Meng Chi smiled, and then Jiang Hong added, “But a few of the instructors are staying with me this time. And there’s a really handsome guy!”

“For real?” Meng Chi glanced at Jiang Hong’s gleaming eyes. “Handsomer than me?”

Jiang Hong studied his face for a moment. “You two are different types. Can’t compare.”

Meng Chi raised an eyebrow, and Jiang Hong went on, “I just got some new tea from the factory. Want to brew a pot?”

Seeing the empty tea table in the hall, Meng Chi knew exactly what she was up to. He gave a knowing laugh and said, “Hong Jie, my tea-brewing doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

“Tsk,” Jiang Hong feigned displeasure. “How about I waive three days of your room fee?”

Meng Chi burst out laughing. “Just kidding. Just save me the first batch of tea from your garden, and we’re good.”

Jiang Hong readily agreed, switching the pop music playing in the shop to a gentle pipa melody.

As soon as Meng Chi sat down at the tea table, he drew many eyes. By the time he finished brewing, the number of visitors lingering outside had only increased.

Jiang Hong’s eyes crinkled with laughter as she busily pitched her homemade fruit teas.

After finishing his tea session, Meng Chi sipped his brew and admired the spring scenery bathed in the setting sun in the courtyard. The sun was going down, the spring scene was tranquil, and his restless mood settled into calm.

Then he heard footsteps approaching his direction. Meng Chi turned his head to look—and a flash of surprise crossed his calm eyes.

He saw Yu Tingzhi, who had no business being here.

“Yu… How did you know I was here?” Meng Chi could barely keep his tone steady.

But Yu Tingzhi’s expression was calm. “I didn’t know.”

“Hm?” Meng Chi raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Then why are you here?”

Yu Tingzhi: “Chasing… a business trip.”

Meng Chi: “…” Somehow, I don’t buy that at all.