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墨書 Inktalez
"Oh my, this painter is incredibly bold to create something like this!"
"No wonder it's called 'Shadow'; it really means something that cannot see the light..."
I stood in the shadows, my fingertips icy.
My heart raced in my chest, half out of fear and half out of twisted pleasure.
After ten years, I finally expressed that unspeakable secret with a paintbrush.
In the way of "Lin Yan."
In the corner of the canvas, I signed that long-lost name.
Lin Yan.
Not Su Yan.
Just as I was about to turn and quietly slip into the VIP lounge behind the exhibition hall, a commotion erupted at the entrance.
The heavy glass door was suddenly pushed open with a loud crash.
The sharp scent of cedar perfume instantly filled the entire space.
Lu Chen Zhou had arrived.
He wore a custom suit almost identical to the one in my painting, his expression dark and terrifying, his gaze like a knife coated in ice, directly sweeping toward the piece titled "Shadow Mr. Lu."
The surrounding murmurs abruptly ceased, and the air seemed to freeze in an instant.
Everyone felt the overwhelming, undeniable sense of oppression.
He ignored everyone, striding through the crowd and stopping in front of the painting.
His gaze was fixed on the buttons arranged to form "LY," then swept over the figure that bore a striking resemblance to Su Qing.
His chest heaved violently, exuding a terrifying aura of hostility.
I instinctively stepped back, wanting to blend into the crowd, but it was already too late.
His gaze suddenly turned towards me, precisely capturing my presence in the corner.
That look was like a hawk spotting its prey, filled with cold fury and a hint of... incredulous hurt?
He approached me step by step, the sound of his leather shoes striking the marble floor resonating like hammers on my heart.
He didn’t explode immediately; instead, he turned to glance at the exhibition sign beside the painting that detailed its information.
“Shadow Mr. Lu”
Author: Su Yan
A chilling smile curled at the corners of his mouth as he reached out and violently tore down the exhibition sign!
The sound of tearing paper echoed sharply in the silent gallery.
Everyone gasped in shock.
He clutched the crumpled piece of paper as if he wanted to crush it.
Then, his gaze fell upon the small signature in the lower right corner of the canvas.
“Lin Yan.”
Those two characters were clear and elegant, yet carried a stubbornness that seemed to break through the earth.
His pupils constricted sharply, as if he had seen something utterly absurd and incomprehensible.
In the next moment, he suddenly turned around and strode towards me!
His icy fingers gripped my wrist like a vice!
The force was so strong it felt as if my bones might shatter.
“Su Yan!” he growled, his voice suppressing a raging fury, each word squeezed out through clenched teeth. “Tell me! What is this?!”
With his other hand, he pointed at the painting, his fingertip trembling slightly from the pressure.
“You could have been the perfect Su Qing!”
“You could have continued to enjoy everything I gave you!”
“Why draw these things?! Why remind me… remind me of those traces that shouldn’t exist?!”
His questioning was like a dull knife, repeatedly cutting into my already battered heart.
The perfect Su Qing?
A trace that should not exist?
Indeed, in his eyes, the existence of "Lin Yan," along with that scar, was a blemish on the "perfect work."
The sharp pain in my wrist nearly made me falter.
My vision blurred slightly.
I couldn't help but focus on the hand gripping my wrist tightly.
His suit sleeve revealed an exquisite platinum cufflink.
The design of the cufflink was unique, featuring two flowers intertwined with each other.
Twin flowers.
It was Su Qing's favorite design element; she had created a jewelry collection themed around it.
My heart suddenly stopped.
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