Avoiding the Topic
By the time they arrived at the art exhibition, the place was already packed. Most of the crowd had gathered around a particular spot.
Thanks to their VIP tickets, they were led by the staff to the front of the crowd.
Standing at the center of attention, drawing all eyes, was a young painter.
He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, speaking in a flat, emotionless voice.
The artist was even taller than expected—at least 1.85 meters—and stood a full head above those around him.
His eye sockets were somewhat deep-set, giving him a vaguely mixed-race appearance, but his lips were an unnaturally vivid red, like they could start bleeding at any moment.
Lu Congxing felt the man glance at him—a hollow, empty look. For a second, it seemed to pause at the sight of him holding hands with He Zhouyan, though it could have just been his imagination.
There was an indescribable feeling about the painter—he looked like a vampire who hadn’t seen sunlight in years. His skin was ghostly pale.
Though Lu Congxing himself was quite fair, the painter’s complexion seemed almost sickly by comparison.
The girls standing nearby had noticed the brief moment too, whispering excitedly among themselves.
A girl with a ponytail, “Ahhh, he’s so handsome!”
Another girl grabbed her friend’s hand and jumped in excitement. “He looks even better in person than in the photos! Look at those hands—oh my god, I’ve lived to witness the hands of a god!”
It seemed they weren’t there to admire the artwork, but rather the artist himself.
Lu Congxing glanced around the exhibit. There were many young students, but also well-dressed adults with refined manners.
It appeared that some were here for the artist, while others genuinely came to appreciate the art.
To attract such a crowd, his work must be truly outstanding.
When they first entered, their attention had been focused entirely on the artist. Now, Lu Congxing stepped closer to the nearest painting and began to study it carefully.
A suffocating sensation hit him.
The painting was steeped in themes of descent, darkness, and a fierce, rose-like intensity.
A boy with broken wings was trapped within black rose thorns. His legs were pierced and bleeding, and his head hung low in exhaustion and vulnerability. Most of his face was hidden by his platinum-blond hair, leaving much to the imagination.
Lu Congxing was slightly dazed. He almost reached out to touch it before remembering it was a no-contact exhibit.
The title of the piece was “Fall.”
A nearby viewer commented in awe, “This painting really captures the essence of despair.”
Lu Congxing frowned at that, and in the next moment, a cold, clear voice spoke from behind him.
“What do you think this painting represents?”
At some point, the artist had come to stand behind him. Those empty eyes now held a glimmer of light as they settled on the painting.
Though he wasn’t looking directly at him, Lu Congxing instinctively felt that the question was meant for him.
Choosing his words carefully, Lu Congxing replied, “Violence… I feel violence in it. His wings seem to have been broken on purpose.”
He then pointed to the mass of roses. “The black liquid seeping from the petals—maybe it means the roses, which imprison him, also stained his wings black.”
“Even though we can’t see his face, I feel like… in this moment, he must be very sad.” Lu Congxing’s eyes filled with the same sorrow he described.
The cub’s empathy was too strong—He Zhouyan reached over to gently ruffle his hair in comfort.
Lu Congxing looked up at him with a small smile in his eyes.
At that moment, the artist’s gaze finally shifted from the painting to the two of them.
Lu Congxing was slightly puzzled. He felt as if the painter wasn’t looking at them directly, but rather through them—at someone else entirely.
After a pause, he boldly said, “I don’t think the painting should be called ‘Fall’. ‘Imprisonment’ feels more accurate.”
“Tch,” a nearby bystander immediately sneered. “That title was chosen by the master himself. People like you, with no sense for art, wouldn’t understand.”
Excited by the fact that the artist had come over to their group, the man had raised his voice, hoping to draw attention.
If he could get a single nod of approval from the master, he could boast about it at dinner parties for years.
But the artist didn’t even glance at him.
Instead, he fixed his eyes on Lu Congxing and let out a slightly exaggerated smile.
“You’re right. Imprisonment would be a better title. I only named it ‘Fall’ because of my own personal bias.”
The bystander who’d just been humiliated felt his face burn with shame. His neck turned red, and he was convinced everyone around them was laughing at him.
Flustered and furious, he opened his mouth to retort—only to accidentally lock eyes with He Zhouyan.
In that instant, it felt like something invisible had clamped tightly around his throat. He looked like a ridiculous duck, mouth agape, but no sound coming out.
Even his companions couldn’t bear the embarrassment anymore. One of them quickly pulled him away, dragging him out of there.
The artist didn’t pay the incident any attention. He asked a staff member for a pen, then casually discarded the small placard beneath the painting and rewrote the title on a new one.
His handwriting was bold and forceful, as if it might tear through the paper at any moment.
The staff were used to his temperamental whims, but even so, they were a bit surprised this time. After all, he always approached his paintings with a sacred reverence. He’d never acted this impulsively before.
And all because of a single comment from a boy at the exhibition…
The staff member wiped the sweat from his brow.
Lu Congxing didn’t pry into what the artist had meant by “personal bias.” It was obviously private. Instead, he politely showed his VIP ticket and asked if he could have a moment alone with the artist.
The artist’s name was Lin Yudan. He stared at Lu Congxing for a few seconds, the smile on his face vanishing completely.
He returned to the moody demeanor he had earlier and replied, “Fine. But only you. You have five minutes.”
It was a clear request for He Zhouyan to leave.
The man raised an eyebrow and stepped forward like a lion asserting dominance over its territory. “Hm?”
Lin Yudan was a full head shorter than He Zhouyan, and though their auras were entirely different, the tension between them was like two wild beasts ready to clash.
The staff member was so startled he almost stepped in to break up a potential fight.
But Lu Congxing was even quicker—he reached out and gently tugged on He Zhouyan’s sleeve. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
He Zhouyan leaned down, bringing his head close with a familiar intimacy. “Then you owe me a reward.”
Like a big dog asking for a treat—but the gleam in his eyes made it clear what he wanted wasn’t that innocent.
Lu Congxing gave him a mock-glare that had no real weight behind it. “Fine, when we get back.”
Probably just a goodnight kiss or something, Lu Congxing thought innocently.
Lin Yudan didn’t seem interested in their exchange. As soon as Lu Congxing agreed, he turned and walked off.
He Zhouyan didn’t show much of a reaction either. In his mind, the entire exhibition space was within his spiritual reach. Wherever Lu Congxing went, whoever he talked to, he would be aware. There was no need to worry about him being mistreated.
Lin Yudan led him to the lounge and immediately started doing his own thing—washing his hands repeatedly.
Is he a germaphobe? Lu Congxing wondered.
But after observing for about thirty seconds, he realized it wasn’t his hands Lin Yudan was trying to clean—it was the ring on his middle finger.
Another half minute passed before he finally stopped and dried his hands. His expression softened slightly, but the way he looked at the ring carried an unsettling obsession.
It was a gaze Lu Congxing had seen before—on He Zhouyan.
Finally, Lin Yudan seemed to remember him. His cold demeanor returned. “So, what did you want with me?”
Lu Congxing blinked. “Actually, I came looking for Hu Hu.”
That was the name Danghu used when living among humans.
He hadn’t expected Lin Yudan—who had just been completely emotionless—to immediately scowl, his expression darkening in an instant. He glared at Lu Congxing like he wanted to tear him apart. “Who are you to him?”
The man who had seemed so calm and aloof just moments ago now looked like someone who had just had a raw nerve struck, his composure shattered.
Lu Congxing, however, remained perfectly calm, no sign of surprise or awkwardness on his face. “I’m his friend.”
“His friend?” Lin Yudan repeated with a strange tone, his voice cold and sharp. “Friend?”
Just as Lu Congxing was starting to puzzle over that odd reaction, Lin Yudan suddenly dropped the fierce expression from his eyes.
But the clenched fists still gave away what he was really feeling inside.
He forced an awkward smile. “This is the first time I’ve heard that. So he does have friends.”
When Lu Congxing heard the first half of the sentence, he thought for a moment that his secret had been exposed—but the second half made it all click.
Danghu was a demon, after all, so most of the people he knew were also demons—not exactly suitable to introduce to humans. They were even in romantic relationships, which made things even more likely to be exposed.
But judging by Lin Yudan’s not-so-pleasant expression, it was clear he had misunderstood something.
Lu Congxing tread carefully. “We don’t talk that often. Hu Hu keeps a pretty small, simple circle of friends.”
Lin Yudan gave a noncommittal “mm,” his tone unreadable—it was impossible to tell if he believed it or not.
He melted most of his body into the shadows. “You can’t reach him either?”
“Either?” Lu Congxing blinked in surprise.
Even his boyfriend didn’t know where he was? Could it really be like the old gatekeeper said—that he’d been kidnapped?
Lu Congxing started to regret not asking more questions at the time.
Lin Yudan turned the ring on his finger. “I haven’t been able to reach him for half a month.”
Lu Congxing’s expression turned serious. “Did he disappear all of a sudden?”
Usually, when a demon goes missing, the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs will look into it—to prevent them from turning to the evil side and harming people, and to stop demons with low self-protection abilities from getting eaten by evil ones.
But half a month was a short time for demons. The Bureau wouldn’t intervene.
Yet suddenly, Lin Yudan didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He stepped out of the shadows and changed the subject. “Can you tell me something about him? I’ve never really known much about his past.”
The cold-looking artist lowering his guard like that—it was hard to say no.
But Lu Congxing had never actually met Danghu in person. He couldn’t just say his father was friends with him. So he braced himself and said, “He’s a really good person. He helped me once, and I can’t just sit back and do nothing while he’s missing.”
Fortunately, Lin Yudan really seemed to love Danghu. Just those two sentences sent him into a quiet reverie.
Finally, a genuine smile touched his lips. Staring at his ring, he said softly, “Yeah… He’s always been that kind. Even when we went out together—if he saw an elderly person selling vegetables, he’d buy everything just so they could go home early. Even if he didn’t like those vegetables at all.”
At this moment, Lin Yudan seemed like any ordinary man in love, not that eccentric painter. He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled his lover.
However, Lu Congxing found the scene somewhat absurd.
Why would a boyfriend who loved him so much avoid talking about his disappearance?