Chapter 37: The Boy in the Painting

He Ting took off a hoodie and walked over to look at himself in the camera.

The young man on the screen had black hair, dark eyes, fair skin, and red lips. He stood with his body slightly turned, head lowered, eyes half-closed, carrying a fragile, almost sickly beauty.

Fei Yang lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled a ring of smoke.

“Not bad. If you have time, let’s do a few more sets.”

Before He Ting could answer, his phone rang.

“Sis.”

He Zhou’s voice came through the speaker.

“Your brother-in-law is back. Come home for dinner tonight.”

He Ting pursed his lips.

“Okay.”

He Zhou immediately sounded displeased.

“What kind of answer is that? You sound so unwilling. Be back early.”

After hanging up, He Ting began packing up his things.

“Her Majesty has ordered me home. Next time.”

Fei Yang smiled.

“Anyone who didn’t know would think she was your mother, not your sister. And your brother-in-law is stricter with you than your dad.”

He Zhou was seven years older than He Ting. She was the classic older sister doting on her younger brother. Since He Ting had been frail since childhood, the entire family had always treated him like a treasure. To He Zhou, he was practically a son she had raised herself.

He Ting quickly got dressed.

“Medicine can be taken casually, but words can’t. My mom is the Empress Dowager.”

In the scorching summer heat, he had been modeling autumn clothing and was drenched in sweat.

He lifted his shirt and sniffed himself, frowning in distress.

After a long internal struggle, he finally made up his mind.

“Forget it. I’ll shower at home.”

Fei Yang had studied fashion design in college. After graduating, he took over his parents’ small clothing factory and started his own independent brand.

He had opened an online shop that was doing quite well. It had gained a modest following, and many wholesale clothing markets and influencer stores placed orders through him. The business wasn’t huge, but it was stable and profitable.

He Ting had known him since childhood. Later, Fei Yang had asked him to model for a few shoots, and the results had turned out surprisingly well. Since then, He Ting had become his regular model.

In any case, he had plenty of free time after classes and enjoyed hanging out with Fei Yang.

He Ting got home early.

When he walked in, He Zhou was curled up on the sofa alone, reading a fashion magazine.

He hurried over and whispered, “Where’s Brother-in-law?”

He Zhou looked deeply offended.

“So you only came home because your brother-in-law asked you to? I couldn’t get you back on my own?”

He Ting quickly grabbed her arm and shook it gently, smiling until his eyes curved.

“But I’m back now.”

Only then did she relent.

“He’s upstairs discussing business with a guest. Not sure when they’ll come down.”

She poked his forehead.

“Your brother-in-law is going to lecture you again. You’re always fooling around.”

He Ting smiled, coaxed her for a few more minutes, and soon had her laughing again.

Relieved, he went upstairs to shower and changed into clean clothes.

When he came back down, He Zhou had returned to her room.

It was only five in the afternoon, so He Ting sat cross-legged on the sofa, opened a bag of dried sweet potatoes, and turned on the television.

Little Hua only jumped into his lap after confirming that he no longer smelled like sweat.

Little Hua was a small mixed-breed cat that He Ting had found beside a dumpster in their apartment complex, but it had since become ridiculously pampered.

Relaxing into the sofa, He Ting absentmindedly petted the cat with one hand while nibbling dried sweet potatoes with the other, watching Crayon Shin-chan.

When Wei Chuhan came downstairs, this was the scene that greeted him.

The young man’s black hair was still slightly damp. He wore a clean white T-shirt, sat curled up on the sofa, completely absorbed in the television while chewing sweet potatoes. A plump cat was tucked against his chest, softly purring in its sleep.

Wei Chuhan stopped abruptly.

His gaze darkened.

He couldn’t move.

Xing Kong, who had been walking beside him, paused as well.

He watched in astonishment as the usually unreadable Young Master Wei stared intently at his young brother-in-law, his expression frighteningly intense.

After discussing the details of a comic publishing project, Xing Kong had intended to invite Wei Chuhan to stay for dinner and perhaps establish a connection with the Wei Corporation that might help with future projects.

Wei Chuhan had politely declined.

Xing Kong hadn’t minded. After all, business relationships couldn’t be rushed.

But now…

A sense of unease rose in his chest.

He wondered if He Ting had somehow offended Wei Chuhan.

Although He Ting lacked ambition, he was generally obedient and sensible. He shouldn’t have been capable of causing serious trouble.

‘But what if?’

If he really had offended Wei Chuhan, the consequences might not be catastrophic, but it would certainly close off opportunities.

As Xing Kong considered how to smooth things over, he glanced at He Ting, who was completely unaware of their presence, then looked back at Wei Chuhan.

He was about to say something when he noticed that the normally cold and composed man seemed to have slightly reddened eyes.

Just as Xing Kong was wondering if he had imagined it, Wei Chuhan began walking forward.

He rounded the corner of the staircase and walked slowly, steadily, his eyes carrying something like a storm hidden beneath a deep sea.

Even Xing Kong, who had spent years battling through the business world, found himself rooted in place.

Instinctively, he wanted to shield He Ting, yet somehow felt that the situation wasn’t that simple.

Wei Chuhan walked straight behind He Ting.

He stopped.

Very slowly, he raised his hand and gently placed it on He Ting’s half-dry hair.

The touch was impossibly light, impossibly careful, as though he were touching something precious and fragile.

Feeling the warmth on his head, He Ting assumed it was his sister.

Smiling, he looked up.

When he saw the man standing before him, he froze in surprise and instinctively shrank back into the sofa.

Wei Chuhan paused.

His hand remained suspended for a moment before slowly curling into a fist.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

He Ting shook his head.

The man before him was young, tall, handsome, and strikingly attractive, but there was a loneliness in his expression that made him seem unexpectedly vulnerable.

Wei Chuhan, meanwhile, was studying He Ting.

He looked young.

His skin was fair, his hair black, his eyes almond-shaped, his lips delicately defined.

Beautiful.

But he didn’t look like the person from Wei Chuhan’s memories.

The sadness in his eyes gradually faded.

Lowering his gaze, he said quietly,

“You remind me of someone.”

It wasn’t that they looked alike.

It was the feeling.

Understanding, He Ting smiled gently and didn’t ask any questions.

“Hello. I’m He Ting.”

The smile in his eyes was bright and lighthearted.

That familiar feeling returned with overwhelming force.

Wei Chuhan found himself unable to leave.

He bent slightly and pointed to the dried sweet potatoes on the table.

“May I have one?”

He Ting smiled broadly.

“Of course.”

Wei Chuhan picked up a piece and slowly bit into it.

It should have tasted sweet.

Instead, it was unbearably bitter.

He remembered countless moments when someone had sat in his arms, the two of them sharing a bag of dried sweet potatoes together.

Watching them, Xing Kong couldn’t shake the feeling that something was strangely off.

He had never seen Wei Chuhan like this.

Wei Chuhan had always seemed cold, distant, and sharp around the edges.

He rarely showed such softness, or anything that resembled fragility.

The two of them interacted naturally, as though they already belonged to a world of their own, one that Xing Kong could not enter.

Just as he was about to step forward and break the strange atmosphere, he heard Wei Chuhan ask,

“You really like cats?”

Xing Kong stopped again.

He was genuinely shocked.

This wasn’t the Wei Chuhan he knew.

This Wei Chuhan was like an ordinary young man, gentle and warm, not the aloof, indifferent, occasionally rebellious and cynical person he usually was.

“Yes,” He Ting smiled.

“Cats are the cutest creatures in the world. Don’t you like them?”

Wei Chuhan lowered his eyes and smiled faintly.

“I do. I used to have a cat too. A black one. His name was Little Black.”

He smiled, looking genuinely happy.

“He was incredibly lazy. We fed him until he got really fat.”

He glanced at Little Hua in He Ting’s lap.

“He was about as fat as this one.”

He Ting laughed and scratched behind Little Hua’s ears.

“Did you hear that? Someone says you’re fat.”

His eyes curved with amusement.

Wei Chuhan, however, pressed his lips together.

That person had also loved scratching Little Black behind the ears with a single finger.

Everything felt too familiar.

As if that person had never truly left.

As if he would throw himself into Wei Chuhan’s arms at any moment, smiling with those same bright eyes.

But back then, he hadn’t been Wei Chuhan either.

Even if that person were standing in front of him now, perhaps he still wouldn’t recognize him.

Something stirred painfully in Wei Chuhan’s heart.

“Young Master Wei?”

Xing Kong’s voice came from behind him.

Wei Chuhan suddenly came back to himself.

That form of address dragged him back to reality.

He turned around.

Hearing Xing Kong’s voice, He Ting instinctively straightened his back.

He wasn’t afraid of his parents.

He wasn’t afraid of his sister.

But he was terrified of this capable, elite brother-in-law.

He Ting had been born prematurely and spent a long time in an incubator.

He had always been physically weak.

His family had adored him.

To be precise, he had grown up under excessive protection.

His heart was simpler, more innocent than most people his age.

He was easily satisfied.

But Xing Kong had never liked that.

He believed boys should be wilder, bolder, more ambitious, more driven.

Not like He Ting, who was content so easily and lacked initiative.

So he was often strict with him, hoping to toughen him up.

Smiling, He Ting greeted him.

“Brother-in-law.”

Wei Chuhan looked at him steadily.

That familiar expression again.

The coincidence filled him with both hope and turmoil.

Although Xing Kong still found the atmosphere strange, it was obvious that He Ting hadn’t offended Wei Chuhan.

If anything, Wei Chuhan seemed unusually fond of him.

His original worries were finally put to rest.

“This is Wei Chuhan,” Xing Kong introduced. “The young president of the Wei Corporation.”

He Ting had heard of the Wei Corporation.

He had seen it mentioned in financial news, though he didn’t pay much attention.

He only knew it was a massive conglomerate involved in many industries.

Seeing his brother-in-law treat such a young man with obvious respect, he assumed Wei Chuhan was no ordinary person.

So he smiled politely.

“President Wei.”

Wei Chuhan nodded.

“Just call me by my name. You don’t have to be so formal with me.”

He Ting smiled.

He set down the half-eaten sweet potato, wiped his hands with a tissue, and held one out.

His fingers were long, his nails neatly trimmed and faintly pink.

“Hello, Wei Chuhan.”

Wei Chuhan took his hand and quietly felt the warmth of his palm.

Perhaps it was only his imagination.

But that warmth felt familiar too.

Without thinking, he blurted out,

“I also had a cat named Little Black.”

He Ting laughed.

“You already told me. He was as fat as Little Hua, right? Then he must have been adorable.”

Xing Kong finally found a chance to join the conversation.

“Is he the cat in the painting you posted online?”

Wei Chuhan nodded, still looking at He Ting.

“Have you seen that painting?”

Besides being the young president of the Wei Corporation, Wei Chuhan was also a painter.

A very famous one.

He had posted a painting online that quickly caused a sensation.

People had endlessly speculated about the identity of the boy in the painting because it was filled with profound love and grief.

The painting had spread across the internet, so he assumed most people had seen it.

But He Ting hadn’t.

He thought it was impossible for everyone to have seen a single painting.

Embarrassed, he shook his head.

“I haven’t.”

“Would you like to?”

He Ting nodded.

“Yes.”

Wei Chuhan took out his phone, opened the painting, and handed it to him.

It was an oil painting.

A narrow path stretched through it.

It looked like spring.

The trees were lush and full of life.

Leaves swayed in the breeze, making it seem as though the air itself should smell sweet.

The setting sun slanted across the path.

A young man was crouching there, leaning forward slightly, eyes lowered, a faint smile resting on his lips.

Across from him sat a black cat with its head buried in his palm, quietly eating cat food.

Their shadows stretched long beneath the evening light.

And yet, despite the vibrant colors and gentle warmth, the painting carried an overwhelming sadness.

It felt less like spring and more like late autumn, when leaves fall, everything withers, and hope is buried beneath cold earth.

The painting felt strangely familiar.

He Ting didn’t know where he had seen it before.

But his heart tightened painfully.

He studied the painting in silence.

Wei Chuhan studied him.

The stillness became so intense that Xing Kong felt increasingly uncomfortable.

After his initial surprise, he finally understood what had felt so strange.

He loved his young brother-in-law deeply.

No matter how wealthy or powerful Wei Chuhan was, if he harbored improper intentions toward He Ting, Xing Kong would never tolerate it.

His thoughts wandered in every direction.

Then he almost laughed at himself.

Wei Chuhan had met countless extraordinary people.

Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with someone at first sight just because He Ting happened to be beautiful.

With that thought, he relaxed a little.

After a long silence, He Ting finally looked up and met the hope shining in Wei Chuhan’s eyes.

He hesitated before asking,

“This cat… isn’t around anymore, is he?”

Something flickered across Wei Chuhan’s face.

“How did you know?”

Returning the phone, He Ting said softly,

“Because I could feel sadness in the painting. So I guessed…”

Wei Chuhan seemed disappointed.

“Other than that… did you feel anything else?”

He Ting wanted to say that the scene felt oddly familiar.

But he worried it would sound like a clumsy attempt to create a connection.

So he simply shook his head.

Wei Chuhan remained silent for a long time.

His lips were pressed into a thin line.

In the end, he smiled bitterly.

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