Once back in the car, Wen Ran’s phone rang—Lily calling.
She tried to calm Wen Ran down, offering to discuss things properly.
Wen Ran remained firm: “No. I won’t work with Zhou’s gallery anymore. Even if he came today and I brought Luo Xiao, he shouldn’t have said those things. I haven’t made a name for myself; I don’t need you managing me.”
After a few more sentences, she hung up.
Luo Xiao glanced at her: “I have friends who are art agents—they can also sell paintings.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him. We can hand the painting over to him.”
“I’m not worried,” Wen Ran said lightly. “I may not have made much of a name for myself these past few years, but I still have senior brothers and sisters, juniors too. It’s just one painting. I can always find a suitable gallery to help operate it.”
Luo Xiao could tell Wen Ran didn’t want to tap into his network. He said nothing, freed his right hand, and held it out to him.
Wen Ran reached over. Their fingers interlaced. Luo Xiao pulled him closer and kissed the back of his hand, still saying nothing.
When they returned to the villa and carried the painting in from the car, Luo Xiao placed both hands on Wen Ran’s shoulders and turned him to face him. In a gentle voice, he asked, “We’re married, right?”
Yes.
Wen Ran blinked, sensing that Luo Xiao was about to say something important.
Luo Xiao looked calm, his tone solemn. “There are two things I want to talk to you about.”
“Hm?”
Wen Ran looked at him.
Luo Xiao kept his hands on Wen Ran’s shoulders and met his gaze. “First, since we’re married, there’s no need to draw lines between us. I’ll ask a friend to sell this painting. Do you have any objections?”
“That’s fine.”
Wen Ran agreed readily. He really didn’t mind either way.
Whether he asked his senior classmates or Luo Xiao asked a friend, it was all the same.
“Second,”
Luo Xiao’s expression turned serious, his eyes soft. “May I ask—why was there a long period before when you couldn’t paint anymore?”
“Did something happen?”
He added immediately, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. Don’t force yourself. I won’t force you.”
“But if you can, would you tell me? I really care about this.”
This time, Wen Ran fell silent, meeting Luo Xiao’s gaze without speaking.
After a moment, he let out a breath and nodded. “There’s nothing I can’t say. I can talk about it.”
“It’s just that what happened is… kind of unpleasant for me.”
He paused. “No—very unpleasant.”
“That’s why, all these years, I haven’t really talked about it with anyone.”
Luo Xiao watched him, waiting for him to continue.
Wen Ran lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at Luo Xiao. His voice was calm, with a faint trace of innocence. “It’s not something very complicated. Back when I was about to graduate from college, I painted a piece. I was planning to use it as my stepping stone into the professional art world.”
“But that painting was stolen.”
“The one who stole it was one of my dorm roommates in college.”
“The other two roommates helped him testify that the painting was his. So my painting became someone else’s.”
As he spoke, Wen Ran’s expression dimmed slightly. After finishing, he exhaled again. “I was young and impulsive back then. I was furious that my painting had been stolen, so I made a huge fuss in the department. Even the police came.”
“But it was useless.”
“The three of them had planned it out from the moment I first started painting that piece. They forged photos of the painting process, forged videos. Anyone who saw them would believe the painting was someone else’s, not mine.”
“I only had a few photos on my phone. And I painted it in the dorm, so I couldn’t produce solid evidence to prove it was my work.”
“I asked to repaint it. I thought I could prove myself.”
“But the guy who stole my painting—his family background was very powerful.”
“Even after things blew up that badly, his family still managed to suppress it. It even affected my graduation.”
“My mom came to the school too.”
“But it didn’t help.”
“The painting was still taken away.”
“The one who stole it and the other two roommates graduated smoothly.”
“I didn’t get my degree certificate until half a year later.”
“For a while after that, every time I painted, I’d break out in hives. My whole body would itch.”
“Later I found out it was psychological. I went to see a therapist for some time.”
“And after that, I basically stopped painting.”
“I didn’t have any inspiration or the mood to paint anymore.”
Luo Xiao’s brows knit tightly as he listened.
Stealing a painting, forging evidence—this kind of premeditated scheme had clearly been planned far in advance.
Three people in one dorm teaming up against one person—this was utterly vile in Luo Xiao’s eyes.
His expression darkened. Slowly, he said, “If he went to such lengths to steal your painting, it means that piece was extremely important to him.”
“He used it to enter the art world?”
Wen Ran nodded. “He probably needed a stepping stone at the time, so he took my painting.”
“And that painting really did make him famous. He’s already a well-known painter now.”
“What’s his name?”
Luo Xiao took out his phone and handed it to Wen Ran.
Wen Ran took it. Luo Xiao leaned in, lowering his head, and saw Wen Ran type two characters into the search bar: Yan Yu.
He hit search. At the very top of the page, the browser’s AI displayed: Yan Yu, male, 25, painter.
Graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts at 21, rose to fame with the painting The Kite Over the Rice Ears…
Under the title The Kite Over the Rice Ears was a link. Luo Xiao tapped it. The page switched, displaying images of the painting—The Kite Over the Rice Ears.
The AI’s description read: The Kite Over the Rice Ears, painted by Yan Yu…
Luo Xiao looked at the painting and saw that the entry stated it had sold for 300,000 yuan at its first public exhibition a few years ago. He immediately understood—Yan Yu had used this painting to pry open the door to the art world.
Disgusting.
Luo Xiao frowned in revulsion.
Just as he was about to take the phone back, Wen Ran rapidly tapped through the page, pulling up Yan Yu’s paintings from the past few years. As he scrolled, he said, “His current work is just like his college work—still just as mediocre.”
“Can’t he tell himself? Can’t his agent tell either?”
“Yet all of these paintings still sell. What a fraud living off reputation.”
Luo Xiao covered the phone with his hand. “Stop looking. It’s bad for your eyes.”
Then he said, “He’s just a painter. Taking him down would be easy.”
Wen Ran turned to him in surprise. “You’re going to stand up for me?”
“Shouldn’t I?” Luo Xiao said seriously. “He stole your painting and used it to become famous. Everything he has now is stolen from you.”
“Dragging someone like that down—”
Wen Ran stepped forward, wrapped his arms around Luo Xiao’s waist, and buried himself in his chest. “Oh my god—you’re so manly.”
“You’re really too good.”
Then he looked up, eyes bright, and said, “Actually, you don’t have to do it. I’ve already thought it through. I’ll take him down myself.”
“There’s nothing more satisfying than taking revenge with your own hands.”
“Back then, I couldn’t paint. I couldn’t get into the art world.”
“Now I can paint again. That means I can send myself into the art world with my own hands.”
“Once I’m in, I’ll use my own methods to let everyone know that Yan Yu’s paintings are garbage.”
“Okay.”
Luo Xiao looked down at him. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“Your enemy is my enemy.”
“He stole your painting. He deserves it.”
“No rush,” Wen Ran said, hugging him again. “Let’s go to Xinjiang first and get the wedding settled.”
“When we come back, there’ll be plenty of time to paint.”
Luo Xiao said, “I’ll open a personal studio for you.”
“Anything’s fine,” Wen Ran replied. “You can even be my agent if you want.”
…
“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”
Far away in Country M, Yan Yu, who was painting, sneezed repeatedly.
Why did his back suddenly feel so chilly?
Yan Yu put down his brush.
What no one knew was that back in City C, Luo Xiao had sent a few messages to Luo Feng, briefly mentioning how Wen Ran’s painting had been stolen at the time of his college graduation. Just a few hours later, a message arrived on Luo Feng’s phone, telling him where The Kite Over the Rice Ears was now.
Luo Feng first sent a screenshot to Luo Xiao. Then he raised his phone to his mouth and said in a low, magnetic voice, “No matter the price, buy it.”
Meanwhile, Luo Xiao contacted his friend in the art world and arranged for a professional art logistics company to come and transport Wen Ran’s new painting.
Not long after, Luo Xiao and Luo Feng continued chatting on WeChat.
Luo Feng: 【That painter named Yan Yu】
Withdrawn
【That Yan—his family background has basically all been checked】
【Screenshot】
【Take a look】
【His father does futures-related physical commodities business】
【His mother manages funds for a large foundation】
【The family is indeed well-off】
Luo Xiao was reading the investigation results when Luo Feng typed rapidly on his end:
【Want to take them down?】
【Easy】
【Just a matter of lifting a finger】
【Especially the few funds their family holds】
【Stir the waters a bit, and we can even send a few people to prison】
【I also found that last year that Yan sold a painting involving tens of millions in cash flow—there’s a chance he was laundering money】
…
As Luo Xiao read on, he felt something was off with this direction and sent back:
【?】
【What are you trying to do?】
Luo Feng replied:
【?】
【Aren’t we supposed to bankrupt them?】
Luo Xiao: 【……】
【No】
Luo Feng: 【……】
Then Luo Feng, speaking from the standpoint of an experienced older brother, lectured him:
【Do you even care about your wife?】
【When your wife’s been wronged, of course you have to vent some anger】
Luo Xiao typed: Wen Ran said he would—
Before he could finish, Luo Feng sent a sticker: a penguin grabbing another penguin by the collar, then shooting it in the head. Afterward, the penguin coolly blew on the smoking barrel of the gun.
Luo Xiao: 【……】
Luo Feng: 【Useless】
Luo Xiao: 【……】