MCFEM C41

Chapter 41: He Found His Muse

Smack!

A sharp slap rang out, and Ye Chen staggered back several steps.

Clutching 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 their child better than a parent. Ye Chen could see clearly that beneath that surface lay a volcano about to erupt.

After landing that slap, Father Ye pulled his son toward him, apologizing earnestly.

“Zhenxing, this time it was my failure to keep an eye on my child that brought you so much trouble. I truly am sorry.”

They were in the Lu residence.

Lu Zheng had always felt something about that fiasco was off. Compared to his parents, his perspective was more objective. So afterward he had gone to Guanli to investigate a little, only to discover where the rumors had originated.

It was true that the paternity test had been done at the Ye family’s hospital. After all, they had shared over ten years of friendship. This kind of matter, which had nothing to do with their mutual interests, should have been completely trustworthy.

Who would have thought.

Lu Zheng studied the expressions of Father and Son Ye, ultimately believing Father Ye had not been aware of this matter.

Lu Zhenxing clearly knew too. Though displeased, he could not possibly give his long-time friend a cold face. And since the man had even struck his own son before them, he could hardly voice any blame aloud.

Madam Lu’s complexion was still pale, her hands trembling slightly where they rested on her lap.

Lu Ran had gone out with friends that day, leaving only the three of them at home. Lu Zheng could not insert himself into their conversation; he only hung his head in thought.

He knew what was being said outside—that the Lu family was ridiculous for openly welcoming a bastard child into their home.

He had foreseen such talk. That was why he had proposed they simply announce the truth. After all, the baby switch had not been their fault. This way they could still continue to raise Lu Ran, and others would only think them loyal and compassionate.

But at that time, Lu Ran had been throwing tantrums of life and death, locking himself in his room and even going on hunger strikes. Their mother had been too heartbroken to agree, fearing he might do something even more extreme.

If he was already this volatile while still a student, who knew what trouble he would cause once he graduated and entered the company.

Perhaps this outcome wasn’t the worst after all.

Once their guest had left, Madam Lu could no longer endure it. Grabbing her husband’s hand, she spoke with a trembling voice: “We misunderstood Xiao Ji. We even said such awful things to him…”

At this, Lu Zhenxing frowned.

He had only been trying to teach the boy a lesson about life. How was that “awful”?

Lu Zheng said softly: “Back then no one knew. You were only worried for Ranran. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared, it’s fine.”

“Xiao Ji is still living in the school dorms. I’ll bring him back in a few days.”

Madam Lu nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Lu Zhenxing also knew that Lu Ji had been wronged. He nodded as well, though he said nothing more.

—

After leaving the Lu residence, Ye Chen trailed silently behind his father.

“Today’s matter—you’d better reflect on it properly once we get home.”

Ye Chen hadn’t expected it wasn’t over. He sneered at him: “Wasn’t that slap just now enough?”

He hadn’t expected his son to talk back. Father Ye’s voice grew cold: “I was teaching you, and you dare still argue? Do you realize the mess you’ve made?”

“We run a private hospital precisely so that we can keep our mouths shut. That reputation, built over so many years, was nearly ruined by you. The Lu family entrusted it to me because they knew I’d never leak information. And you—look what you’ve done.”

He didn’t know how Ye Chen had found out. Other than the personnel involved, he hadn’t told anyone, not even his own son.

But that no longer mattered.

At the time, Ye Chen had only spoken without thinking and then scrambled to patch it up in front of Gu Yang. How could he have known the Lu Ran paternity test really had been done at his family’s hospital?

“The Lu family.” Ye Chen gnashed his teeth. “Why do you still keep ties with them? Do you really feel nothing about what happened back then?”

“What does that have to do with the Lu family? It was your mother. A grown woman who didn’t know how to look after her own health, and yet she went running into the pharmacy—”

“It was Lu Ran who ran off! Mother went after him to find him! Didn’t they check the surveillance? How can you call it an accident?”

“He was only a child. What did you expect of him?” Father Ye’s gaze was unmoved, but his words were cuttingly cruel. “And I considered you a child too. That’s why, even though your mother called you back then, I never told anyone about it.”

Ye Chen’s breath hitched. He had not expected his father to know, nor to speak such words.

Before, he might have been stunned. But after being bombarded once already by Gu Yang, now he only found it absurd.

“So what?” he said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be reflecting on yourself? Why was it, as her husband, that she listed me as her emergency contact, and not you?”

At last, Father Ye’s expression shifted. He studied his son as if seeing him for the first time.

Yet he did not grow angry at the question. Calmly, he said: “Tonight the Qi family is hosting a banquet. I need to make an appearance. You’re coming with me.”

The earlier slap had landed hard, and the red mark on Ye Chen’s face was still vivid, unlikely to fade anytime soon.

The Qi family servant who greeted them glanced at his face with an odd look before quickly lowering her head.

After ushering them in, Qi Ming, already waiting in the sitting room, acted as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.

Middle-aged and portly, his face was cheerful, giving the impression of a good temper.

“Director Qi, congratulations on the great success of your film.”

“Not at all, President Ye, you’re too kind. It was the hard work of the whole crew. How could I take all the credit?”

He rose to shake Father Ye’s hand, urging him to sit. Then he exchanged a few pleasantries with Ye Chen before turning to his son. “Lecheng, aren’t you two classmates? I’ll be chatting with your Uncle Ye. Take Ye Chen upstairs to hang out.”

The shy, quiet boy nodded and led Ye Chen upstairs.

As they climbed, the voices from below still carried up.

“Haven’t seen him in years, and Lecheng’s grown so tall. Such a steady, well-behaved boy. You’ve really raised him well, Director Qi.”

“Not at all. I’m away so much, I hardly manage him. His personality is all from his mother. Honestly, I think he’s too quiet. But Ye Chen—so lively and cheerful—that’s wonderful.”

Hearing the two men praise each other, Ye Chen’s mouth twisted. Catching Qi Lecheng’s gaze, he sneered back mockingly.

That man had made him show up in public with a slap mark. It was nothing more than another way to humiliate him.

Such tactics were his usual trick. He wasn’t ashamed—he even prided himself on his control.

Scum.

Qi Lecheng didn’t take him to his own room, but instead opened the largest guest room and left him there.

He hated sharing a space with others.

Ye Chen didn’t mind. Ever since hearing Gu Yang’s inner voice, seeing Qi Lecheng made his skin crawl.

Pervert.

The guest room had no bathroom. After sitting for a while, Ye Chen went out.

Perhaps because the Qi family was full of artists, the house’s décor was particularly distinctive. Ye Chen got turned around before finally finding the bathroom. On his way back, he completely forgot which way he had come.

After some searching, he hesitantly opened a door.

Not the room he’d been in.

Glancing around, he realized it was a storage room for collectibles.

With nothing better to do, and never one to respect others’ privacy, he started looking.

A thick stack of yellowing certificates—flipping through, he saw they were all Qi Lecheng’s, dating back ten years.

On an elm sideboard stood many photographs framed in glass. One stood alone in front. Ye Chen leaned in to look.

The photo was well preserved, with no signs of oxidation, but overall it gave off an old, dreamy, surreal feeling.

The subject was a person, indistinct, holding something. A white object extended outward, like wings mid-flight.

For some reason, the photo made Ye Chen uneasy, though he couldn’t say why.

Carelessly, he dropped the album. Fortunately, the thick carpet muffled the sound.

He hurried to pick it up, but kneeling, he noticed the sideboard beneath was movable.

On instinct, he pulled. It stuck a little, so he tugged harder—and out came a hidden drawer.

Photos scattered everywhere. Ye Chen’s eyes went wide.

They were all of Gu Yang.

Even more shocking than when he had seen the album on Qi Lecheng’s phone.

Not only had he taken them, he had printed them out.

Gu Yang sleeping on his desk. Gu Yang taking something from the podium. Gu Yang chatting with someone. Even Gu Yang’s back as he walked.

When had all these been taken?

Ye Chen flipped through them, dumbfounded.

Normally, discovering dirt would thrill him, make him eager. But now, he couldn’t even laugh. It was too outrageous.

The door creaked open behind him.

Ye Chen froze, uncharacteristically guilty, though he didn’t know what he was afraid of.

“What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you in the guest room?” Qi Lecheng’s voice was soft as always, devoid of reproach. He stepped forward slowly.

He didn’t gather the scattered photos. Instead, he first picked up the one that had fallen.

Caressing it with his fingertip, he said: “I took this in middle school. It even won an award at a photography competition abroad.”

Ye Chen had no idea how to respond. He could only stammer: “Th-that’s impressive.”

“What do you see in this photo?”

Clutching a handful of photos, Ye Chen wasn’t sure whether to hastily put them back. Uneasy, he forced himself to play along: “The person looks like they’re flying. Very artistic.”

At that, Qi Lecheng’s pale, delicate face curved into a smile. “When I submitted it for the competition, it needed a title, so the organizer named it Flight.”

“Later, it won a silver medal. My father was thrilled, boasting about it everywhere, even holding a little banquet in the garden.”

He paused, slipping into memory, his expression soft and wistful, voice tinged with sweetness: “That was the first time I met Gu Yang.”

—

Every artist has their muse—the source of their inspiration and passion.

Qi Lecheng had heard his father say it countless times.

He agreed with the sentiment, but not with the man who said it.

He had once stumbled upon his father kneeling before a woman, reverently kissing the top of her foot, calling her his muse.

Yet not long after, a different woman was brought home.

No. His muse would never be such a cheap thing.

At that middle school banquet, he had received much praise.

They called him precocious, destined to inherit his father’s mantle.

He only smiled shyly.

He knew it was all lip service, given out of deference to his father. None of them even understood the photo, parroting interpretations from the title.

During a break, he slipped outside for air, only to bump into someone in the corridor.

A boy of about fourteen or fifteen. He wore a wide-collared coat—not an everyday style—but it didn’t overwhelm him. Instead, it emphasized his unique, aloof aura.

From his angle, the boy stood sideways, head lowered, gazing at the framed photo.

He looked at the picture, while Qi Lecheng looked at him.

The boy slowly turned and asked: “Why is the person in the photo falling?”

Qi Lecheng’s eyes widened.

He had told no one the truth. The photo had been taken abroad, at an art academy’s exchange event.

He had been on the rooftop, camera trained on birds in flight.

Then, from a window across the way, a barefoot, brown-haired youth stepped onto the ledge, clutching a painting, his face deathly pale.

Moments later, he leapt.

Afterward, he heard the gossip. The youth had a long-time lover, whom he adored, creating countless works inspired by him—even his graduation project bore that shadow.

But within days, the lover had perished in an avalanche.

So he had leapt, holding his unfinished painting and blank canvas, once meant to tell endless stories.

The white canvas unfurled in the air, like wings.

He hadn’t known the youth, but he had felt the intensity of that instant.

He had pressed the shutter, capturing it forever.

The world is ever-changing; nothing lasts forever. The only eternity lies in the instant preserved by a camera.

That was why he loved photography.

He photographed whatever intrigued him, though no one ever truly understood.

Until that moment, when his drifting soul found its anchor.

Someone understood his work. At last, he had found his muse.

—

In the cold wind, He Ming’an stepped out of the car, leaving the door open, because someone was still inside.

“How was today’s tutoring?” he asked, leaning against the car door with a smile. That morning, Gu Yang had messaged him a complaint.

“Just so-so.” The other car door was stuck, so Gu Yang climbed out from this side.

“Did you two talk about anything? Surely you didn’t just study.”

“We chatted a little, but whenever I tried to expand, he couldn’t follow.” Gu Yang looked drained. He hadn’t lied—he really was exhausted. Barely asleep, then summoned out again.

“You didn’t have to come. It wasn’t urgent.” He Ming’an studied his expression.

“It’s fine. I’ll just nap in a guest room later.” Gu Yang glanced up at the house. “So this is the Qi family residence? The décor’s so abstract.”

“You don’t remember? We came here once in middle school. You said the exact same thing.” He Ming’an chuckled. “Though they did remodel since then.”

“Did we? I don’t remember at all.” Gu Yang replied carelessly.