Chapter 41: He Found His Muse
“Smack!”
A loud slap rang out. Ye Chen staggered back several steps from the blow.
Covering his face, he slowly raised his head to look at the man in front of him.
Father Ye’s expression was calm, but no one knew a son better than his father. Ye Chen could tell there was a volcano about to erupt beneath that calm surface.
After delivering the slap, Father Ye dragged his son forward and apologized sincerely.
“Zhenxing, this is my failure in disciplining my child. He’s caused you so much trouble. I’m truly sorry.”
They were currently at the Lu residence.
Lu Zheng had always felt that the whole farce was off. Compared to his parents, he had a more objective perspective, so after the incident he made some discreet inquiries at Guanli and discovered where the rumors had originated.
The paternity test had indeed been conducted at the Ye family’s hospital. After more than a decade of friendship, and since it didn’t involve conflicting interests, it should have been completely trustworthy.
Who would have thought.
Lu Zheng silently evaluated the expressions of the Ye father and son and believed Father Ye had likely been unaware of the matter.
Lu Zhenxing clearly understood this as well. Though he was displeased, he couldn’t turn hostile toward an old friend. And since Father Ye had slapped his own son in front of them, it was hard to press further blame.
Mrs. Lu’s face was pale and dazed. Her hands resting on her lap trembled slightly.
Lu Ran had gone out with friends today. Only the three elders remained in the Lu household. Lu Zheng couldn’t insert himself into their conversation; he simply lowered his head in thought.
He knew what the outside rumors had become—saying the Lu family was absurd enough to publicly bring an illegitimate son home.
He had predicted such talk. That was why he had suggested revealing the truth from the beginning. The baby swap hadn’t been their fault. If they clarified it, they could still continue raising Lu Ran, and outsiders would only think them righteous and sentimental.
But during that period, Lu Ran had threatened death, locked himself in his room, and gone on hunger strike. His mother had been heartbroken and refused to reveal the truth, afraid he might do something even more extreme.
If he was already this troublesome while still in school, who knew what kind of problems he’d cause after entering the company post-graduation?
Perhaps the current outcome wasn’t entirely bad.
After seeing their guests out, Mrs. Lu could no longer hold it in. She grabbed her husband’s hand, her voice trembling.
“We misunderstood Xiao Ji. We even said such harsh things to him…”
Lu Zhenxing frowned.
He had only lectured the boy about basic principles of conduct. What was so harsh about that?
Lu Zheng said softly, “At the time, no one knew. You were just worried about Ranran. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, that’s what matters.”
“Xiao Ji is still staying in the school dormitory. I’ll bring him back in a couple of days.”
Mrs. Lu nodded repeatedly.
Lu Zhenxing also knew that Lu Ji had been the one wronged. He nodded as well, though he said nothing more.
—
After leaving the Lu residence, Ye Chen followed silently behind his father.
“When we get back, you’re going to reflect properly on today’s events.”
Ye Chen hadn’t expected it to continue. He sneered. “Wasn’t that slap enough?”
Father Ye hadn’t expected him to talk back. His voice turned icy.
“I’m teaching you. And you still dare to argue? Do you know what kind of mess you’ve created?”
“We run a private hospital. The most important thing is discretion. We’ve built our reputation over so many years, and you almost destroyed it. The Lu family trusted me not to leak information—that’s why they handed it to me. And you?”
He had no idea how Ye Chen learned about the test. Aside from the responsible staff, he hadn’t told anyone—not even his son.
But that wasn’t the key point.
At the time, Ye Chen had simply let something slip in front of Gu Yang and had tried to patch it up on the spot. He never imagined the paternity test had truly been conducted at his own hospital.
“The Lu family.” Ye Chen ground his teeth. “Why do you still associate with them? After what happened back then, do you really not care at all?”
“What does that incident have to do with the Lu family?” Father Ye replied coldly. “Your mother was the one at fault. A grown woman who couldn’t even take care of her own health, yet she ran to the pharmacy storage.”
“Lu Ran was the one running around! Mom followed him to find him! Didn’t the surveillance footage get checked? How can you say it was just an accident?”
“He was just a child at the time. What could you expect him to do?” Father Ye looked at him without emotion. “I also considered you just a child. That’s why, even though your mother called you that day, I’ve never told anyone about it.”
Ye Chen’s breathing faltered.
He hadn’t expected his father to know. To hear such words spoken so calmly—
In the past, he might have frozen on the spot. But after having his worldview shattered once by Gu Yang’s inner voice, he only felt absurd now.
“So what?” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you reflect on yourself? As her husband, why weren’t you her emergency contact? Why was it me—a child at the time?”
Father Ye’s expression finally shifted. He studied his son as if seeing him for the first time.
But he didn’t grow angry. He merely said calmly, “The Qi family is hosting a banquet tonight. I’m heading there now. You’re coming with me.”
The slap had been solid. The red mark on Ye Chen’s face was obvious and wouldn’t fade quickly.
When the Qi family’s servant greeted them at the entrance, she glanced oddly at Ye Chen’s face before lowering her head.
Inside, Director Qi, already waiting in the living room, acted as though he hadn’t noticed anything.
Due to middle-aged weight gain, he looked plump and prosperous, smiling warmly—like a man with a good temper.
“Director Qi, congratulations. The film was a great success.”
“Oh, you flatter me, President Ye. It was the result of the entire crew’s efforts. How could I take all the credit?”
He stood to shake hands with Father Ye and urged him to sit, then greeted Ye Chen briefly before turning to his son.
“Lecheng, aren’t you two classmates? Your Uncle Ye and I have things to discuss. Take Ye Chen upstairs to your room.”
The quiet, reserved boy nodded and led Ye Chen upstairs.
From the staircase, they could still hear the conversation below.
“Lecheng has grown so tall these past few years. He seems obedient and steady. Director Qi, you’ve raised him well.”
“Not at all. I’m rarely home. He takes after his mother—too quiet, if you ask me. Ye Chen is lively and cheerful—that’s wonderful.”
Hearing the mutual flattery, Ye Chen curled his lips and met Qi Lecheng’s gaze, flashing him a mocking smile.
His father had deliberately made him come out with the slap mark visible, simply to embarrass him.
A common tactic of his—deriving satisfaction from control.
Scum.
Qi Lecheng did not take Ye Chen to his own bedroom. Instead, he opened the largest guest room and let him stay there.
He disliked sharing his personal space.
Ye Chen was glad for that. Ever since hearing Gu Yang’s inner thoughts, he felt uneasy whenever he saw Qi Lecheng.
Pervert.
The guest room had no bathroom. After sitting for a while, Ye Chen went out to look for one.
Perhaps because the Qi family was immersed in the arts, the house’s design was distinctive to the point of confusion. Ye Chen got turned around before finding the bathroom—and afterward completely forgot which way he had come from.
After wandering for a bit, he uncertainly opened a door.
It wasn’t the room he had stayed in earlier.
He scanned the space. It seemed to be a collection room.
With nothing better to do—and never one to respect privacy—he began looking around.
A large stack of yellowing certificates. He flipped through them. All belonged to Qi Lecheng, the earliest dating back ten years.
On a long wooden cabinet were many framed photographs. One stood separately at the front. Ye Chen leaned in to look.
The photograph was well preserved, not oxidized, yet it exuded an old, dreamlike atmosphere.
The subject was a person, though indistinct, holding something. White material spread outward—combined with the background, it resembled wings in flight.
But for some reason, the photo made Ye Chen uncomfortable.
Carelessly, he knocked the frame over. Fortunately, a thick carpet muffled the sound.
As he bent down to pick it up, he noticed the cabinet base was movable.
On instinct, he pulled. It was stuck slightly, so he applied more force—yanking the entire hidden drawer out.
Photos scattered across the floor.
Ye Chen’s eyes widened.
They were all photos of Gu Yang.
The impact was stronger than the time he’d glimpsed Qi Lecheng’s phone gallery.
He hadn’t expected Qi Lecheng not only to take the pictures—but to print them all.
Gu Yang sleeping on his desk. Gu Yang retrieving something at the podium. Gu Yang chatting. Even Gu Yang’s back as he walked.
When had these even been taken?
Ye Chen flipped through them, stunned.
Normally, discovering explosive gossip excited him.
Now he couldn’t even smile. It was simply too absurd.
Creak.
The door behind him opened.
Ye Chen’s back stiffened. For once, he felt guilty—though he wasn’t sure what he was afraid of.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the guest room?” Qi Lecheng’s voice was soft, devoid of accusation as he stepped closer.
He didn’t gather the scattered photos. Instead, he picked up the fallen framed picture.
“I took this photo in middle school. It even won an award in an overseas competition.”
Ye Chen didn’t know how to respond. “Th-that’s impressive.”
“What do you see in this photo?”
Holding the pile of Gu Yang’s photos, unsure whether to tidy them, Ye Chen forced himself to answer. “The person is flying, right? It looks artistic.”
A smile appeared on Qi Lecheng’s pale, delicate face.
“When I submitted it, the organizer gave it a title without asking me—‘Flight.’”
“Later, it won silver in the photography competition. My father was thrilled. He bragged about it everywhere and even hosted a small garden banquet.”
He paused, slipping into memory. His expression softened, almost dreamy.
“That was the first time I met Gu Yang.”
—
Every artist has a muse—the source of their inspiration and passion.
Qi Lecheng had heard his father say this countless times.
He agreed with the sentiment, but not with the man who said it.
He once caught his father kneeling before a woman, devoutly kissing her instep and calling her his muse.
Yet not long after, a different woman would be brought home.
He hadn’t found his muse yet. But it certainly wouldn’t be something so cheap.
At that middle school banquet, many praised him.
They said he was promising and would inherit his father’s legacy.
He only smiled shyly.
He knew they were being polite out of respect for his father. Most of them didn’t even understand the photo—merely elaborating on the title the committee had assigned.
Needing air, he slipped into the corridor.
There, he bumped into someone.
A boy around fourteen or fifteen. He wore a wide-lapelled, oversized coat—uncommon, yet it didn’t overwhelm him. Instead, it accentuated his unique, aloof aura.
From Qi Lecheng’s perspective, the boy stood sideways, gazing down at the framed award-winning photograph.
He was looking at the photo.
Qi Lecheng was looking at him.
The boy slowly turned and asked, “Why is the person in the photo falling?”
Qi Lecheng’s eyes widened.
He had never told anyone the truth.
The photo had been taken during an exchange at an overseas art academy.
He had stood on the rooftop, camera raised toward birds soaring freely.
Across from him, a window opened. A barefoot brown-haired young man climbed onto the ledge, holding a painting, face pale.
Seconds later, he jumped.
Later, Qi Lecheng heard whispers: the young man had deeply loved his partner, creating countless works inspired by them—even his graduation piece.
But within days, that lover had died in an avalanche during a mountain climb.
So the young man embraced the unfinished painting and a fresh canvas meant for countless future stories—and leapt.
The white canvas unfurled midair, like wings.
Qi Lecheng didn’t know him.
But he resonated with that explosive, intense moment.
He pressed the shutter, freezing it forever.
The world is ever-changing. Nothing remains eternal—except the moment captured by a camera.
That was why he fell in love with photography.
He photographed everything that intrigued him.
Yet no one had ever truly understood.
Until now.
For the first time, his drifting soul found an anchor.
Someone understood his work.
He had found his muse.
—
In the cold wind, He Ming’an stepped out of the car, leaving the door open because someone remained inside.
“How was tutoring today?” He Ming’an leaned casually against the car door, smiling teasingly. Gu Yang had texted him complaints that morning.
“So-so,” Gu Yang said, climbing out from the other side since that door was malfunctioning.
“Did you talk about anything? Surely you didn’t just study.”
“We chatted a bit. But before I could elaborate, he couldn’t keep up.” Gu Yang looked exhausted. He hadn’t lied earlier—he really was sleepy. He’d barely rested before being summoned out.
“You didn’t have to come. It wasn’t urgent,” He Ming’an observed him carefully.
“It’s fine. I’ll just find a guest room to nap later.” Gu Yang looked up at the house. “So this is what the Qi family home looks like? The decor’s way too abstract.”
“Don’t you remember? We came here in middle school. You said the exact same thing.” He Ming’an laughed. “Though they did renovate in recent years.”
“Did they? I don’t remember.” Gu Yang replied absentmindedly.
