AVRL 55

“He really is an artist, isn’t he? Even his way of expressing love is so full of artistic flair.”

With this thought in mind, Meng Chi heard footsteps coming from behind him.

“What are you doing in here?” Yu Tingzhi asked in a calm tone, devoid of any embarrassment about being caught in the act of casually indulging his fantasies and creating artwork of his partner.

“I wanted to take a nap,” Meng Chi said.

Yu Tingzhi glanced at the painting tools in the room, then said, “I turned this room into an art studio. Go sleep in the master bedroom.”

Meng Chi nodded, turned around, and walked toward the master bedroom with him.

Since Yu Tingzhi had dared to bring Meng Chi back here, he had already anticipated that Meng Chi would see those paintings. Truth be told, secretly painting a pile of someone’s nude portraits wasn’t exactly the behavior of an honorable gentleman—it was even a bit eccentric, even if the painter could be considered an artist.

However, Yu Tingzhi had long shed his artist persona in front of Meng Chi, revealing his ordinary, mortal nature. Thus, he wasn’t truly worried that these paintings would cause Meng Chi to feel uncomfortable. Yet, Meng Chi’s current silence suddenly stirred a subtle curiosity in him, making him wonder what Meng Chi was feeling at this moment.

Before he could ask, Meng Chi spoke up first, asking with a smile, “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?”

Yu Tingzhi was taken aback for a second, then immediately nodded and said, “I do.” He added, “If you feel uncomfortable after going in, just tell me honestly.”

Now it was Meng Chi’s turn to be stunned. Before he could grasp what Yu Tingzhi meant by that, Yu Tingzhi had already taken a step forward and opened his bedroom door.

Due to the apartment’s layout, the area by the bedroom doorway was relatively dim. So when Yu Tingzhi pulled the door open, bright sunlight spilled out from inside the bedroom, looking almost like a doorway to heaven in a movie. Meng Chi couldn’t help but squint slightly.

His eyes first landed on the spacious floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the distant azure sky and pure white clouds, before shifting to a large bed dressed in dark green sheets, and finally to a massive photo mounted on the wall at the foot of the bed.

A vast expanse of green occupied almost the entire wall—varying from deep to light shades, casting a marvelous vibrancy under the sunlight. Yet what captured the core of Meng Chi’s attention was the youth bound by thorny vines in the photo.

“This is…” The fresh ocean fragrance in the room enveloped Meng Chi, making him almost forget to breathe as he murmured, “…it’s me.”

It was a picture from that Wild Spring series shot by She Shan back then—the seventeen-year-old him.

The background of the photo was a wild mountain landscape filled with lush grass, trees, and scattered wildflowers. Meng Chi was bare-chested, wrapped in thorny vines, gazing at the camera with a posture of looking up to a deity. The seventeen-year-old Meng Chi possessed the wild rebellion of a youth alongside a quiet, weathered serenity, blending together into a unique, untamed aura.

“It’s you,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi abruptly snapped back to reality. He turned his head to look at Yu Tingzhi, seeing the gentle smile at the corners of his eyes and the light glowing in his pupils. The appreciative look in his eyes as he gazed at the photo instantly captivated Meng Chi’s mind, moving him even more than seeing those paintings earlier.

Now he understood why Yu Tingzhi had said those words to him before they entered the room.

The bedroom was decorated in a minimalist style, with white walls, dark sheer curtains, and a understated color palette. This photo had a darker tonal palette, taking over half the wall; despite the bright light from the floor-to-ceiling window, it gave the bedroom a slightly oppressive atmosphere, creating a subtle sense of mismatch.

Yet as Meng Chi walked up to the photo, imagining what it felt like to lie on the bed and look at it, he suddenly felt that this design was actually quite special.

Specially eccentric.

Now he also understood why, on the day he first slept with Yu Tingzhi and asked to move to the bed, Yu Tingzhi had brought him to the guest bedroom instead of the master bedroom.

At first, he had thought it was due to Yu Tingzhi’s personal habits, which was why he had chosen to go to the secondary bedroom to take a nap just now—only to discover those paintings.

“When did you set this up?” Once the shock in Meng Chi’s heart settled down, curiosity took over. “Don’t tell me it was before I even met you.”

Yu Tingzhi let out a soft laugh and shook his head: “After you modeled for She Shan.”

The colors of this photo were vivid, and the membrane coating was still quite new. It was obvious it hadn’t been displayed for very long. So even though Meng Chi recognized it as a photo of himself from seven years ago, he never thought Yu Tingzhi had set it up seven years ago.

After all, they had been complete strangers back then.

Meng Chi nodded, glanced sideways at Yu Tingzhi, and suddenly raised both arms to wrap around his neck, saying with a mischievous smile, “Teacher Yu, so you like me this much, huh? You have to look at my picture every day when you sleep.”

Seeing his pleasant mood, the faint trace of concern in Yu Tingzhi’s heart dissipated. He smiled and nodded: “Mm, I like you very much. I want to see you every day the moment I open my eyes.”

Hit with such sweet words, Meng Chi’s heart rate accelerated. He clicked his tongue, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “Are you inviting me to move in with you?”

Yu Tingzhi hadn’t expected his mind to work so quickly. He let out a laugh and nodded: “If you’re willing.”

Meng Chi didn’t actually move in with Yu Tingzhi right away, as it would be hard to explain to his Master. However, he stayed over at Yu Tingzhi’s place for the next few days. Every morning, Yu Tingzhi would drive him to the Youran Teahouse, then come back to pick him up after work.

To be honest, waking up every morning to stare at his seventeen-year-old self was actually quite awkward. Yet every time he looked at this photo, Meng Chi would think of that room full of paintings, and that bit of awkwardness melted away into touch and joy.

After resting his foot for two days, Meng Chi recovered significantly, allowing him to focus on work and coordinate with She Shan on shooting the promotional video.

Regarding the promotional video shoot, once Meng Chi reviewed the proposal, he handed the matter entirely over to She Shan’s team. He trusted She Shan’s professionalism. Beyond recognizing She Shan’s talent as a photographer, he had also learned that She Shan’s family ran an entertainment company that was quite famous in the industry, having produced several hit dramas. In fact, the idol drama that had reduced Jiang Hong to tears was produced by his family’s company.

The two assistants She Shan brought along were also highly professional planning specialists. Not only did they design a solid promotional plan, but they also offered several useful suggestions based on the current state of the Youran Teahouse. For instance, they suggested subtly updating the shop’s interior decor to add a more youthful vibe; the fruit teas Meng Chi personally crafted could be sold as takeout items to expand the customer base; they could also produce branded specialty tea packets to sell individually or in gift sets to diversify their offerings. They even suggested opening an online store to expand sales channels.

Listening to them, Meng Chi couldn’t help but sigh, “You guys aren’t here to shoot a promotional video; you’re here to start a revolution.”

“Since I agreed to help you promote it, I certainly can’t just half-ass it,” She Shan said. “I’m not an irresponsible person.”

She Shan spent almost every day at the Youran Teahouse over the next few days. He was indeed very responsible—so much so that he was being overly thorough. He wanted to expand the scope of the promotional video: beyond introducing the Youran Teahouse, he wanted to include introductions to several featured famous teas, turning it into a mini-documentary.

“You can’t expect to rely on a single promotional video for the rest of your life, right?” She Shan said. “These clips can be used later for your social media accounts and online shop, and they also help promote tea culture.”

“Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?” Meng Chi hesitated slightly.

In truth, he agreed with She Shan’s vision. It was just that shooting a promotional video was originally a mere verbal agreement between She Shan and Yang Zile. Even though Meng Chi hadn’t charged any fee for modeling later on, She Shan had spent nearly a hundred thousand yuan buying those aged teas. This promotional shoot was entirely voluntary labor on his part. The fact that She Shan was taking it so seriously and letting him leverage his popularity was already generous enough. Making it such a grand production made Meng Chi feel a bit embarrassed.

However, that slight embarrassment evaporated into thin air the moment he learned that the first stop for She Shan’s expanded shoot was Fuzhou.

For no other reason than the fact that Yang Youran, who had been resting at home, had taken on a job two days ago to shoot a music variety show in Fuzhou.

Presumably, since She Shan hadn’t gotten anywhere with his attempts to cozy up to Yang Youran directly, he had to use the promotional video shoot for the Youran Teahouse as a pretext to stay in her orbit. After all, since it concerned her family’s teahouse, Yang Youran couldn’t simply ignore it.

Understanding She Shan’s intentions, Meng Chi stopped declining and simply proposed that all expenses for this shoot would be covered by the Youran Teahouse. Since She Shan’s mind wasn’t on the money at all, he naturally agreed without hesitation.

That evening at the shop, when Yang Zile heard Meng Chi talk about this, he immediately asked to come along.

With only two weeks left before the Gaokao, there were no new lessons to teach, so the school no longer strictly required students to attend in person. Students could apply to review at home instead of reporting to school.

Yang Zile hadn’t been going to school much lately, often sitting in the shop holding a book. On the surface, he was studying, but in reality, he was eavesdropping on the shoot details discussed by She Shan and his assistants, even asking them for tips on social media marketing.

Meng Chi could turn a blind eye to this normally, but taking Yang Zile along on a shoot at a time like this was absolutely out of the question.

Yang Zile was deeply frustrated by this, even blurting out things like, “What’s the point of studying? I definitely won’t pass anyway.”

Hearing this, Meng Chi furrowed his brows, his face showing a rare flash of displeased anger.

Yang Zile: “Am I wrong? You know full well I’m just a terrible student.”

Yang Zile’s grades were indeed poor, consistently hovering in the lower-middle tier. Perhaps he wasn’t born for academics, or perhaps he had never put his heart into studying. In any case, with his current scores, getting into his ideal university was indeed exceptionally difficult.

Meng Chi looked at him for two seconds, sighed, said “Come with me,” and turned to walk out into the courtyard.

Yang Zile followed reluctantly. Night had fallen, and there was hardly anyone in the courtyard. Meng Chi randomly picked an empty tea table, sat down, and motioned for Yang Zile to sit beside him.

“What are you doing? Are you gonna feed me chicken soup for the soul again?” Yang Zile asked.

Meng Chi chuckled: “Even if I want to feed it to you, if you refuse to drink it, what damn good would it do?”

Yang Zile remained noncommittal. After thinking for a moment, Meng Chi said, “I know what you’re thinking. You feel like you won’t pass anyway, so spending time reading books right now feels like a waste of time. You think you’d be better off focusing on things you deem useful—following Brother Pang and Xiao Ying around on this trip, so you might learn some experience and build up that Weibo account of yours.”

Yang Zile nodded, “Isn’t that right?”

Meng Chi glanced at him, answering with a question instead: “And then?”

Yang Zile: “And then we can boost business for the shop.”

Meng Chi chuckled: “Is it really that easy?”

The expression on Yang Zile’s face gradually turned dull and troubled. Of course he knew it wasn’t easy, which was why he wanted to tag along, learn more, and leverage She Shan’s popularity as much as possible.

“This time, you can ride on She Shan’s popularity and use his connections, but what about next time?” Meng Chi continued. “Will She Shan keep helping you forever? If he doesn’t, where are you going to find the next She Shan?”

Yang Zile’s frown deepened. Looking at Meng Chi, he argued somewhat indignantly, “Who knows? We have some momentum this time, so if we strike while the iron is hot, another opportunity will definitely come along.”

“Besides, isn’t She Shan trying to pursue my sister? I might even be his brother-in-law in the future. Why wouldn’t he want to help me?”

Meng Chi: “…”

“You sure think a lot, kid. Does Sister Ran know you’re already ‘marrying’ her off to She Shan?”

Yang Zile curled his lip, remaining noncommittal.

“You also know She Shan is only willing to help us because he’s pursuing Sister Ran. But if he loses interest in her, will he still help you?”

“Isn’t there still you? Aren’t She Shan and Teacher Yu good friends?”

Meng Chi: “…”

Seeing his speechless expression, Yang Zile immediately said, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna ask ‘what if Teacher Yu and I break up’ next.”

Meng Chi: “…”

Choked up with annoyance, Meng Chi’s lips twitched, but in the end, he only managed to say, “It’s not impossible, either.”

Yang Zile: “…”

The two of them were so absorbed in their conversation that they failed to notice someone approaching from behind, the faint sound of footsteps drowned out by the melodious zither music floating out from the teahouse.

Hearing this sentence, Yu Tingzhi abruptly stopped in his tracks, stepping no further.