Chapter 67: Two-Faced Phoenix Man 26 Part 1

Jiang Rang never saw Zhou Yichun again after that day.

The terrifying memory of that night lingered like the hollow shell of a spent crab, its crimson husk fading to dull gray under the erosion of time, until it finally drifted away on the tides to the ocean’s depths.

At first, Jiang Rang was always afraid that the other man might show up again. He knew Zhou Yichun couldn’t live without him. Ever since arriving in this world, their lives had been inextricably linked, bound together like by an umbilical cord.

The young man always felt that the other wouldn’t leave so easily. The man was probably still lurking in some corner, hunched over, his long bangs hanging down to his eyeballs, those eerie heterochromatic eyes watching him with gloomy, covetous intensity.

Jiang Rang was afraid, yet his fear wasn’t absolute.

Because deep down, he knew—hell, he even took a perverse comfort in it—that no matter what he did, Zhou Yichun would always be insanely obsessed with him.

Jiang Rang couldn’t truly comprehend that kind of emotion.

What kind of feeling would make someone willingly dilute their own sense of self for another person they’d had no connection to, turning themselves into a puppet for so-called love?

In the young man’s eyes, Zhou Yichun had long ceased to be a complete “person” in any social sense.

The man had reduced himself to an empty syringe, reeking of antiseptic, wanting nothing but for Jiang Rang’s love to fill him like a thick, hallucinogenic drug.

In a way, it was almost pathetic.

Of course, Jiang Rang had no time for pity.

Deep down, the young man was cold and self-centered; he only ever cared about his own interests.

So, to test and confirm, Jiang Rang would occasionally call out Zhou Yichun’s name amid some “minor troubles.”

But the man never appeared.

Not even on New Year’s Eve, when they’d once planned to spend it together. There wasn’t a single message.

The house remained a mess, no gifts at the door, and his phone held only spam and a few pitiful holiday greetings from Fishy-Eye—no other signs of life.

Only then did Jiang Rang slowly start to believe that the man had truly exited his life.

People were cheap at heart, after all. Zhou Yichun had once been so infatuated with him, and Jiang Rang hadn’t batted an eye. But now that the servant who’d been rooted in his life for years was really gone—now that he needed someone to wait on him, pamper him, take his frustrations—no matter what, the young man couldn’t help thinking of him.

After all, no one knew how to please him quite like Zhou Yichun.

Of course, cutting someone out was simple enough.

Jiang Rang didn’t need him specifically. He could hire a maid for the cleaning, turn to Ji Mingyu for his physical needs, and once he got used to the routine, life went on without a hitch.

~~~

After the New Year, Lu Xiang finally had some free time. The man made several trips back to S City, showering him with gifts and cash, and after Jiang Rang’s subtle hints, he even poured a hefty sum into that well-equipped Small Research Lab.

Jiang Rang passively accepted these perks. After all, they were the Eldest Young Master’s voluntary investments in their “love”—the young man was always the innocent, pure “victim.”

Of course, faced with the man’s candy-coated barrage, since Jiang Rang hadn’t refused, he wouldn’t keep up the pretentious act forever. Playing coy was fun for a moment, but holding the pose too long would just kill the vibe.

The young man handled the push and pull of the reins with perfect finesse, keeping the man hooked willingly.

After school started, though their relationship hadn’t returned to its former lovey-dovey bliss, it was at least harmonious.

“Jiang Jiang, heading to the Painting Studio again?”

Lu Xiang stared at the young man’s class schedule saved on his phone, his usually flamboyant brows knitting with restless dissatisfaction.

“You’ve gone almost three times this week already. Is Ji Mingyu that swamped, messing around with just you as his model?”

Lu Xiang’s expression wasn’t pleasant, his uptilted peach-blossom eyes glinting with a chill. He spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying a subtle accusation. “We’ve barely had three dates this week.”

Jiang Rang instinctively tugged at his sleeve cuffs, subtly hiding the deep red marks on the inside of his elbows beneath the thin spring shirt.

Lu Xiang had no idea how many savage bite marks covered the milky skin beneath his “pure” lover’s thin clothes.

He couldn’t know how wildly uninhibited his boyfriend—who acted so prudish in front of him—got in his friend’s bed every week.

The man knew nothing, still shackled by Jiang Rang’s earlier accusations of overbearing control and those heartbreaking breakup words. He couldn’t even broach the idea of tagging along to the Painting Studio without tiptoeing around it.

Jiang Rang knew better than to push too far.

Lu Xiang was his boyfriend, after all. Avoiding him for too long would only arouse suspicion.

So the young man packed up his things, his dark brows lifting slightly as his thick lashes trembled. His beautiful eyes reflected the eldest young master’s handsome features, and he smiled. “A-Xiang, if you’re willing, why don’t you come with me today?”

Lu Xiang’s eyes flickered, but he agreed almost without hesitation.

The two of them headed to the Art Institute together.

Along the way, Lu Xiang tried several times to hold the young man’s hand, only to be turned down each time with the excuse that it was embarrassing in public.

But strangely enough, the moment they stepped into the Art Institute’s hallway, Jiang Rang seemed to grow much more tense. Not only did he deliberately take hold of the man’s hand, he even proactively introduced Lu Xiang to the senior students who greeted them as they passed by.

That said, Lu Xiang couldn’t shake the feeling—perhaps it was just his imagination—that the young man’s tone sounded a bit nervous and rushed.

It was as if he had to finish the introduction before those hesitant seniors could get a word in.

Lu Xiang didn’t dwell on it. In fact, the fact that Jiang Rang was willing to introduce him so openly was already cause for great joy. It showed that the young man was softening in his attitude, and that there was still room for their relationship to grow even closer.

Knock knock knock.

After the knock, faint rustling sounds came from inside the brick-red door of the Painting Studio, as if someone was tidying up their brushes. Accompanied by the soft shuffles, a lazy voice drawled, “Come in.”

No sooner had the door creaked open than the elegant man inside smiled and said, “What’s with the politeness today…”

His words trailed off as the man, dressed in a light linen-brown shirt, lifted his gaze slightly. The sharp, deep blue fox-like eyes dimmed a fraction the instant they landed on the tall, handsome figure beside the young man.

Ji Mingyu paused in his movements, the thin chain at his ear swaying gently. He glanced at Jiang Rang’s stiffened expression, then smiled effortlessly without a hint of flaw. “What wind blew Eldest Young Master Lu our way today?”

As he spoke, his brows arched meaningfully. “Here to keep your little boyfriend company?”

The odd feeling Lu Xiang had upon entering slowly faded. His gaze shifted between his lover and his friend for a moment before he set aside his doubts, his tone returning to normal. “Yeah. Jiang Jiang’s been coming over here three or four times a week—practically more than our dates. Had to come check it out.”

Ji Mingyu chuckled. “Young Master Lu, I’m innocent here. It’s the instructor’s orders. Besides, didn’t you tell me to…”

The man hadn’t finished speaking before Lu Xiang cut him off.

Lu Xiang shot the young man a deliberate glance, seeing no sign that his boyfriend had caught on, then forced out a stiff voice to change the subject. “Enough with your excuses.”

As he spoke, the man’s eyes instinctively scanned the room.

The Painting Studio was spacious, with excellent natural lighting. The large floor-to-ceiling windows gleamed like a shimmering lake under the spring sunlight.

Hanging from the ceiling above this “lake” were crystal chandeliers of various sizes, and beneath those expensive, beautiful fixtures sat a stunning crystal grand piano amid stacks of canvases and art supplies of all kinds. But the most eye-catching feature was the pure white daybed placed right in the center of the studio.

The bed was huge, and since it matched the floor’s color, it wasn’t immediately noticeable at first glance.

Lu Xiang stared at the bed for a long moment, his expression suddenly darkening.

He strode over in a few steps and fished out a corner of apricot-white clothing peeking from under the pillow with his long fingers.

The young man behind him paled instantly. Jiang Rang recognized it at a glance—it was the shirt he’d changed out of after his last romp with Ji Mingyu here.

If it were ordinary clothes, he might have found a way to explain it, but anyone with eyes could tell what those stains were from.

It was all because they’d gone wild a few days ago—on the piano, against the easels, with paints, on the tiles, by the window… They’d turned the place into a forbidden Eden, two frenzied adulterers twisting together like a pair of hysterical venomous snakes in heat. They’d cared for nothing but the maximum sensory thrill.

If—if Lu Xiang found out…

All his schemes would go up in smoke, not to mention whatever punishment Lu Xiang might devise.

Would he strip away all his money and power, destroy the research lab he’d painstakingly built?

Or some kind of physical or mental torment?

Jiang Rang was new to these circles, but he’d heard whispers of the depravity in high society.

If they were ruthless enough, those beasts in human skin had countless ways to break a person down into a mindless plaything, good for nothing but to be toyed with.

Jiang Rang trembled all over as belated terror finally overwhelmed him, nearly sending him crumpling to the floor.

A sudden wave of warmth bloomed at the small of his back—someone had caught his sagging waist.

Those hands were incredibly strong, like a massive python that posed no threat to humans. They wrapped gently around the young man’s spine, guiding the terrified and helpless youth slowly upright.

Once they were sure the pitiful young man had steadied his emotions, the hands withdrew silently.

Jiang Rang vaguely heard a soft whisper by his ear: “Don’t be afraid.”

Just then, Lu Xiang fully lifted the garment.

Jiang Rang froze.

It was indeed his shirt, but it had been washed and dried, its warm apricot hue thin and soft in the light, pristine as fresh snow.

Lu Xiang frowned as he turned. “Jiang Jiang, is this your shirt? How did it end up here?”

Lu Xiang could never mistake it. Jiang Rang always carried an intensely alluring sweet fragrance. Others might not notice it, but for Lu Xiang, the scent was etched into his very bones.

The aroma on this shirt came from the youth—thick enough to seem on the verge of melting into liquid and dripping out.

In truth, it wasn’t just the shirt. The spacious Painting Studio was suffused with the youth’s fragrance from every direction, faint yet overwhelmingly potent, almost as if he had dissolved into mist and enveloped every inch of the place.

Jiang Rang was still stammering, words failing him, when Ji Mingyu spoke up casually. “Ah, that’s definitely Jiang Rang’s shirt.”

The beautiful, elegant man met Lu Xiang’s near-icy stare without flinching and continued in his warm, steady tone. “You know how it is—we sometimes have to add color directly onto the models, which dirties their clothes. So I told Jiang Rang to bring a spare set.”

With that, he turned his head, lips curving in a smile as he nodded to the pale-faced youth. “Right, Jiang Rang?”

Jiang Rang caught on immediately. He pulled himself together and nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t want to go home covered in filth, so I brought an extra set here.”

As he spoke, a misty haze welled up in his deep black eyes. He looked up softly. “Lu Xiang, what are you getting at? Do you suspect me?”

Lu Xiang had been wavering, half in doubt, but the sight of his lover on the brink of tears—eyes reddening—drove away any urge to press the issue.

It had just been a flare-up of paranoia, with no real evidence anyway. Now he hurried to soothe and apologize to the youth.

The usually tall, sharply commanding man stood at a loss before his boyfriend, stumbling over his words. “Jiang Jiang, I was just asking. Nothing more…”