But given the setting and the need to save face, Yan Yu couldn’t actually tear into Wen Ran.
This was his own solo exhibition. Anyone could ruin it—except him.
So when Wen Ran added another, “Ah, I’m just kidding,” Yan Yu could only curse internally while smiling on the surface along with the curator.
The curator was sweating. “Teacher Wen, you’re too much—how can you joke like that?”
Wen Ran smiled. “I ran into an old classmate, that’s all.”
“I wouldn’t dare joke like that with anyone else.”
“Yes, yes,” Yan Yu echoed. “Wen Ran, you’re still just as humorous.”
Wen Ran said, “I’ve seen the paintings. They’re quite good. A lot of themes—looks like Teacher Yan’s had plenty of creative drive these past two years.”
…
The three of them stood together chatting and laughing.
As they talked, the curator turned to Yan Yu again. “Oh, right—Teacher Yan, do you know who’s been handling Teacher Wen’s paintings lately?”
Hm?
A bad feeling crept up inside Yan Yu.
He remembered the painting he’d seen earlier, signed with Wen Ran’s name.
The curator said, “Aiwon.”
Yan Yu thought, figures, rolling his eyes internally.
The curator continued, “Aiwon is extremely capable…”
Wen Ran smiled calmly, composed and unruffled.
Yan Yu showed nothing on his face, but inside he was thoroughly unimpressed.
When the curator finished, Yan Yu probed cautiously, “Wen Ran, how do you know Aiwon?”
“He’s a friend of his husband,” the curator answered before Wen Ran could speak.
Husband?
Yan Yu froze.
Surprised, he looked at Wen Ran. “You’re married?”
“Yes.”
Wen Ran kept smiling. “We just got married this year. Newlyweds.”
The curator chimed in again, quick as ever: “His partner is also his agent—and the boss of his company.”
“I heard he specifically set up the company and a private studio just for Teacher Wen Ran.”
Turning back to Wen Ran, the curator added, “Your husband really loves you.”
“Yes,” Wen Ran said with a gentle smile. “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have this much creative inspiration right now.”
Yan Yu sneered inwardly. Oh—so he married up, found himself a powerful husband.
He couldn’t be bothered to dig into exactly what kind of background or wealth this husband had. Just this casual conversation already made him sick to his stomach.
The curator was clearly giving Wen Ran a lot of face, but Yan Yu only wanted to find an excuse and get out of there.
Just as he was about to do that, Wen Ran suddenly looked past him, smiled, and raised his hand in a wave. “President Luo, over here.”
The curator followed his gaze. Yan Yu turned as well. Together, they saw a man approaching.
Dark-skinned, very tall, dressed in tailored slacks and a white dress shirt. The shirt was pressed perfectly, outlining a solid, powerful build—broad shoulders, strong arms, a narrow waist.
Just from his height and physique alone, he looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with.
Yan Yu froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected Wen Ran to end up with someone like this. When their eyes met—those calm eyes giving nothing away—Yan Yu immediately felt an oppressive aura, the kind that came naturally with authority.
Whether it was jealousy or something else, Yan Yu instantly lost any desire to keep chatting.
As he was about to excuse himself, the tall man stepped forward and extended his hand. “My surname is Luo. Luo Xiao.”
“Hello.”
Yan Yu shook his hand, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Only the curator looked delighted, clearly thinking everyone here was on the same side.
Once Luo Xiao joined them, he and Wen Ran immediately clasped hands.
Yan Yu watched as Luo Xiao turned his head, lowered his gaze, his expression and voice softening as he asked Wen Ran, “So he’s that roommate you mentioned?”
“Yes,” Wen Ran replied tenderly. “That’s him.”
To the curator, this was just a loving couple showing affection. But to Yan Yu, the words carried a very different meaning:
“So he’s that roommate?”
—So he’s the one who stole your painting?
“Yes. That’s him.”
—Yes. He’s the one who stole it.
Yan Yu’s smile vanished. A chill crept up his spine.
“Excuse me,” he said stiffly. “I need to go greet some other guests.” Then he turned and left at once.
The moment he turned away, his expression darkened.
What happened back then—Wen Ran knew. And he, the one who had taken the painting, the real culprit, knew even better.
And he knew exactly what it meant for Wen Ran to enter the art world now, to stand right in front of him.
You think I’m scared? Yan Yu sneered inwardly.
What Yan Yu didn’t know was that, before he’d even gone far, the three people behind him had already dropped their smiles, silently watching his retreating back.
Wen Ran spoke first, his voice low and distant. “He really hasn’t changed at all.”
“If he didn’t know how to put on an act,” the curator said calmly—this from the man who’d been smiling nonstop just moments ago—“how could he have climbed so high in the art world at such a young age?”
“He’s not afraid yet,” Luo Xiao added flatly.
The curator snorted. “He will be.”
“Oh—Teacher Yan~”
Aivin arrived at that moment, walking straight toward them.
Yan Yu wasn’t in the mood. He nodded briefly and brushed past him.
But after passing him, Aivin—who had just exchanged a look with Luo Xiao—turned his head, his gaze lingering meaningfully on Yan Yu’s back.
Aivin curled his lips into a smile.
The art world was about to see a major scandal.
How exciting.
A famous painter, adored by fans, falling from grace…
Aivin’s smile turned downright wicked.
He withdrew his gaze and walked over to Luo Xiao and the others.
As soon as he got close, the curator asked, “Aivin, soon?”
“Within three days,” Aivin replied.
Wen Ran looked up at Luo Xiao. Luo Xiao lowered his head to meet his eyes and tightened his grip on Wen Ran’s hand, silently reassuring him: everything was already prepared.
Two days later, several short-video media accounts in the art world released the same explosive news:
Someone had filed a lawsuit accusing the famous painter Yan Yu of stealing a painting from his university graduation period. The painting named in the lawsuit was Yan Yu’s breakout, career-making work, Kite Over the Rice Ears.
The painting had already been returned to the plaintiff—the original artist.
Yan Yu, his studio, and his agent had yet to issue any response.
The news shot straight to the trending lists. The internet exploded—spectators everywhere, opinions clashing, the discussion boiling over.
Offline, Yan Yu’s exhibition hall was swarmed by media.
They photographed his paintings, filmed the space, and surrounded the exhibition’s负责人, firing questions nonstop:
“Has Teacher Yan Yu really received a court summons?”
“Someone online is accusing him of stealing a painting—does he have anything to say?”
“Will Teacher Yan Yu respond?”
“Why can’t anyone reach his studio or agent by phone?”
The exhibition manager was helpless, sweating bullets, unable to drive the reporters away.
At the company, Yan Yu tore the court summons to shreds, flying into a rage.
How dare Wen Ran!?
How dare he!?
It had been years!
What evidence could he possibly have?
What evidence!?
If he had any proof, he would’ve used it back then!
Yan Yu’s agent analyzed the situation calmly. “It’s just one painting. Yours, his—he can’t actually prove who painted it.”
“At the end of the day, he’s not trying to prove authorship. He’s trying to ride your fame to boost himself.”
“Haven’t you seen? The internet’s already saying he’s opening his own solo exhibition in a few days.”
“With this level of attention and popularity, do you think his exhibition will lack visitors?”
“As for the lawsuit—no matter what, it’ll take at least six to ten months. If it drags on, two or three years isn’t unusual.”
“That’s plenty of time for him to get famous.”
Wen Ran!!
You really know how to play dirty!!
Yan Yu was furious.
What they didn’t know was that, if Wen Ran truly wanted Yan Yu “dead,” it would be incredibly easy now.
In the family group chat, Ju Yaoxin kept sending voice messages:
“A lousy painter, a thief—why go through all this trouble to deal with him?”
“Leave it to your dad or your brother. In two days, he won’t exist in the art world anymore.”
“How dare someone steal our Ranran’s painting.”
“Give it to me. I can make his entire family suffer.”
“Tsk—he ruined my mood so badly I couldn’t even enjoy shopping for clothes today. Disgusting.”
Wen Pingping also sent a voice message: “Forget it. Leave it to the younger generation.”
“It’s their business. Let them handle it.”
Luo Zhenting added: “Luo Xiao, handle this properly.”
“This concerns Ranran’s future career.”
Wen Ran could only think: he’d seen Yan Yu’s recent paintings—they were painfully mediocre. How did this guy even get famous? Pure marketing?
He even suspected Yan Yu and his company might be laundering money.
But Wen Ran didn’t care. After showing his face at Yan Yu’s exhibition, he spent most of his time painting.
He now had abundant energy and endless inspiration. With Luo Xiao around, he didn’t need to worry about anything—he could just bury himself in his work.
As for Luo Xiao—he’d shed his outdoor gear, put on dress shirts and suits, and officially become Wen Ran’s agent, as well as the boss of the art company they now co-owned.
When Yan Yu’s side reached out, Luo Xiao went alone to meet Yan Yu and his agent.
Once seated, Luo Xiao’s presence filled the room. No one would’ve guessed he was new to the art world.
Yan Yu’s agent, however, was visibly intimidated.
Because when Luo Xiao arrived, they’d all seen it clearly: he had a driver, and his ride was a Cullinan.
That kind of money, paired with that kind of imposing physique—no one would dare underestimate him.
After sitting down, Yan Yu’s agent quickly stated their position and demands: withdraw the lawsuit, calm public opinion, and name a price.
That actually made Luo Xiao laugh.
When he laughed, he was composed and steady, as if nothing could shake him—and that made sense. He’d seen every kind of storm before.
After laughing, Luo Xiao looked at them calmly. “So how much are you offering?”
“Five million.”
The agent said it, though before coming, their internal ceiling had been three million. Seeing the Cullinan, he’d raised the offer.
Five million?
Luo Xiao smiled again.
“Five million isn’t even enough for me to buy my wife a watch.”
“Don’t be so arrogant!”
“You think you’re the only one with money?!”
Yan Yu finally lost it, grinding his teeth as he snapped, “Thirty million! Withdraw the lawsuit!”
“Don’t give me that crap about thirty million not being enough to buy your wife things!”
“You act like money’s nothing—what, do you think your ‘Luo’ is the Luo from Leo Group?!”
Isn’t it?
Luo Xiao raised an eyebrow.
But he didn’t bother clarifying his identity. There was no need.
He looked steadily at Yan Yu, noted the panic creeping into him, and smiled faintly.
“You’ve barely become the defendant, and you’re already this desperate to throw money at a private settlement?”
“Because it’s troublesome?”
“Because you want things to blow over?”
“No. Of course not.”
“It’s because of Wen Ran.”
“Because deep down, you know better than anyone—back then, it really was you who stole Kite Over the Rice Ears.”
“You took Wen Ran’s painting and claimed it as your own.”
“You feel guilty—that’s why you’re so desperate to throw money at this and make it go away.”
“Thirty million?”
Luo Xiao’s disdain was obvious. “Thirty million wouldn’t even buy the plane my parents gave Wen Ran. And you think you’re worthy of using that to buy out the ownership of that painting?”
He glanced at the watch on his wrist, his tone casual. “Don’t struggle. Wen Ran wants to enter the art world, and if he wants attention for his work, he naturally needs a stepping stone.”
“You’re such a perfect stepping stone—it’d be a waste not to use you.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m a businessman. If you want to throw money at a businessman, you’d better check whether your chips are even on the same level.”
With that, he stood up. “Keep your thirty million. Use it to buy tissues to wipe your tears.”