But Luo Yu realized that this person was himself.
The perspective of the painting was of Gu Xiaowei covering his mouth, restraining him, holding him tightly, hidden in the shadows of the roses, observing him.
A kind of unprecedented heat surged through Luo Yu’s vision and into his brain, as if it was about to draw out all the impulses he had never noticed within himself.
You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )
His breathing knotted in his throat, stuck halfway, and for a moment, Luo Yu had the urge to go to the room across, kick open the door, grab the other person by the collar, and confront him with fierce eyes, demanding, “What exactly were you thinking when you drew this?”
But there was no need to go over; Luo Yu could already imagine Gu Xiaowei’s answer.
He would tilt his head, look at him with his deep eyes, and the calmer his gaze, the more obsessive it would become.
—”Of course, I was thinking of you.”
Luo Yu took a deep breath, opened the drawer, and put the drawing away.
After drying his hair and lying in bed, Luo Yu turned on his side. He was sure his heartbeat was a bit faster than usual.
The night had already grown deep. Apart from the distant sound of insects chirping outside the window, everything was so quiet that it felt unreal.
Yet the quieter it was, the more he felt bewitched, as if under a spell. He reached out, opened the drawer, and pulled the paper out again.
He didn’t turn on the light, but in this dim light, looking at the drawing gave him a different feeling.
His hair, his eyelashes were depicted delicately and softly, and in his lowered eyes, there seemed to be an infinite lake rippling. It was beautiful, like a rose blooming in the thorny thicket of the deep night, making one want to hide him layer upon layer, away from the stings of the world’s thorns.
Luo Yu’s fingers brushed the strokes on the paper. This was drawn by Gu Xiaowei while he was taking a bath, done only in a matter of minutes.
He must have observed him very carefully; his every movement, even the angle of his neck or the lowering of his eyes, had been captured in Gu Xiaowei’s gaze. Otherwise, how could he have remembered what he looked like at that moment?
Luo Yu didn’t know what this strange feeling was. He didn’t find Gu Xiaowei scary. On the contrary, there was a sense of pride in occupying the other’s gaze, and even… he wanted to occupy his entire world.
“Hah…” Luo Yu covered his eyes.
Did Wen Yuchi also have similar thoughts about Lu Pingfeng?
This movie… is driving him mad.
When the alarm went off the next morning, Luo Yu rubbed his eyes and heard the cheerful chirping of birds outside the window. Only then did he remember he wasn’t in his apartment but at a resort where the film crew was staying.
He stretched and got out of bed, and the first thing he did was head to the bathroom.
As soon as he opened the door, he bumped into Gu Xiaowei.
“Morning,” Luo Yu raised his hand in greeting.
In the morning, Gu Xiaowei’s voice was very gentle. “Morning. Are you headed to the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead then.”
The bathroom was separated into wet and dry areas, so Luo Yu could close the frosted glass door while using the toilet, and Gu Xiaowei was washing up outside.
“I didn’t realize you’re so good at drawing. It doesn’t seem like something you learned in just a few weeks,” Luo Yu said, trying to cover the sound of his business.
“When we were kids, didn’t our parents make us learn some sort of skill? Like calligraphy, piano, or painting,” Gu Xiaowei replied.
Luo Yu opened the door and, while washing his hands, asked, “How long did you learn?”
“From elementary school until middle school. Later, my parents thought I wasn’t going to pursue an artistic career, so they told me to focus on academics instead.”
“That’s such a shame. You’re really good at it.”
Gu Xiaowei dried his face, standing to the side while Luo Yu brushed his teeth. “Do you like it?”
Even though he wasn’t standing close, Luo Yu could feel Gu Xiaowei’s presence, like a cold pine tree on a cliff, where a breeze could cause frost and snow crystals to fall.
“I do.” Luo Yu, though with his head still lowered, turned his face slightly to look at him.
Wen Yuchi would never say something he didn’t mean to Lu Pingfeng, and Luo Yu would be just as honest with Gu Xiaowei.
I like your drawing.
I enjoy being the focus of your attention.
Gu Xiaowei stood there, seemingly surprised that Luo Yu had so directly said he liked it.
It was as if the expectation that Luo Yu would avoid or reject him had been let down, but another, more intense desire surged within him.
With his eyes closed, Luo Yu stretched out his hand to grab a face towel, but after fumbling around for a while, he still couldn’t find the box.
Gu Xiaowei pulled one out for him and placed it in his hand.
“Thanks.”
After drying his face, Luo Yu looked up at Gu Xiaowei and lightly tapped his chest.
“If you draw for someone else, I might get jealous.”
With that, Luo Yu walked out the door.
From downstairs, Ye Shengyi’s voice came: “Brother Luo! The crew sent over breakfast! After breakfast, it’s time for makeup!”
“Alright, coming!”
After a while, Gu Xiaowei, who was still standing in the same spot, lifted a hand to cover the spot where Luo Yu had tapped him. His fingers slowly tightened, and the fabric wrinkled into the shape of a rose.
The crew’s breakfast was delivered by the resort’s staff, a test run for the service they’d later offer guests.
“Wow—this breakfast spread is so rich! There’s Chinese and Western options!” Ye Shengyi excitedly exclaimed.
Luo Yu sat down too. “We probably won’t get this kind of treatment again.”
Gu Xiaowei pulled out the chair next to Luo Yu and sat down. He didn’t eat much.
Luo Yu knew it was because he didn’t want to eat too much and risk affecting his performance, and although Luo Yu also wanted to indulge himself, sitting next to such a disciplined person made him put down the extra dim sum he had wanted to eat.
To his surprise, Gu Xiaowei picked it up and placed it on Luo Yu’s plate, softly saying, “Eat it.”
“I’ve already eaten a lot. And I haven’t been exercising much lately.”
“When Director Sheng is in the zone, he can shoot for an entire day without eating or drinking.”
Luo Yu propped his chopsticks and looked at him, “What about you? Why don’t you eat more?”
Gu Xiaowei replied, “I need to lose a little more weight. Otherwise, I won’t look sickly enough.”
Luo Yu knew it was the director’s request but still felt a little distressed for him.
“Then I won’t eat either…”
The next second, Gu Xiaowei stuffed the dim sum into Luo Yu’s mouth.
“Eat. This is the resort’s test-run breakfast. They might not maintain this level of service later.”
In other words, if you like it, eat more while you can.
After breakfast, they arrived at the villa where the first scene would be filmed.
Sheng Yunlan glanced at all the actors’ makeup, and he was most satisfied with Luo Yu’s.
“The makeup isn’t too strong, but it highlights your features well. Your makeup artist is good.”
Hearing Sheng Yunlan’s praise, Ye Shengyi proudly smoothed his hair; purple luck was not just an empty reputation.
The next moment, Luo Yu roughly ruffled at his hair.
The villa had been redecorated to meet the needs of filming.
It was said that the decor wouldn’t be taken down afterward and would remain as a tourist attraction at the resort.
Inside the villa, the cameras were already set up. Due to limited space, unrelated staff were asked to leave.
When reading the script, Luo Yu had guessed from Lu Pingfeng’s character that his house wouldn’t feel very lived-in. But when he stepped into the villa for the first time, he felt no trace of warmth. For example, the silver-gray sofa was high-quality but lacking any cushions or throw pillows.
The tempered glass coffee table was empty, so clear you could see the bottom. Not a speck of dust or a single magazine was in sight.
And on the surrounding walls hung piano-black frames, but instead of paintings, they held photographs.
A stag with its throat bitten, withered flowers growing from cracks in a ruined wall under the scorching sun, the wrinkled, dying face of an old man…
All in black and white, leaving one feeling gloomy.
Even the light from the crystal chandelier overhead was cold, making the whole space seem lifeless.
The first scene to be shot here was the one where Yan Jun, playing Captain Zhao Sicheng, leads a team to meet the famous painter Lu Pingfeng.
The director called for the lights to be turned off, plunging the space into darkness. The empty coffee table, like an altar, waited in the cold for its sacrifice.
It wasn’t time for Luo Yu to appear yet. He stood outside, holding his script in his left hand and a thermos in his right.
The actors were getting into position. Gu Xiaowei, dressed in a black sweater and casual pants, walked to the sofa and sat down.
His face was gloomy and cold, and his deep eyes exuded a mysterious aura, like a rose blooming in the dark night, untouched by the moonlight.
“Teacher Gu really suits this kind of morbid yet elegant role.”
Luo Yu turned his face and saw Nie Yangchen standing right beside him, gazing at Gu Xiaowei.
“What suits him is a role that appears morbid and elegant, but is actually wild and intense. Like poison, yet can also be redemption,” Luo Yu said calmly.
Nie Yangchen frowned, dismissively saying, “But in the script, Lu Pingfeng is the one being redeemed.”
Luo Yu lifted his chin slightly, “Wait until the director adjusts the lighting, then you’ll understand.”
The staff on set approached the window of the villa and pulled back the heavy curtains. Bright morning light immediately angled into the space, softening the eerie photography works with a gentle glow.
Sitting on the sofa was Gu Xiaowei, half of his face bathed in sunlight, with dust particles dancing like scattered diamonds in the air. His eyelashes were long, interwoven with the shadows on his eyelids, like wild sunflowers growing freely.
The other half of his face was submerged in shadow, like an unknown deity of the underworld, drawing in followers who would lose themselves to him in despair.
Nie Yangchen was stunned. This was probably what Luo Yu meant by both poison and redemption.
—Gu Xiaowei naturally exuded an aura that commanded worship.
Once the script supervisor confirmed that Yan Jun was in position, the clapperboard was struck, and everyone on set felt a jolt in their hearts. The first scene of the film officially began.
Yan Jun, who played Zhao Sicheng, the captain of the criminal police force, arrived in a sharp uniform, followed by two officers, and stood in front of Lu Pingfeng.
The butler spoke, “Sir, this is Captain Zhao Sicheng from the criminal police force. They’re here to ask you about… the murder case that caused quite a stir online yesterday.”
Lu Pingfeng turned to look at Zhao Sicheng, his lips curving into a perfectly calculated arc, and his entire demeanor softened.
He stood up and gestured for Zhao Sicheng to sit on the sofa opposite him. As his palm turned upward and his wrist emerged from his sleeve, there was a crisp, sharp line that unconsciously drew everyone’s gaze.
“Hello, Captain Zhao. I’m sorry, I don’t follow online news, so I’m not sure which murder case you’re referring to.”
His voice was like ice crushed in a glass, cold and distant, yet because of its soft and gentle tone, it gave off a cultured impression.
Zhao Sicheng and his team sat down, displaying an objective, business-like demeanor.
Meanwhile, one of his officers opened a notebook and took out a pen, ready to record.
The butler brought a tray over, placing several cups of tea on the coffee table. As the warm steam swirled upwards, the living room finally gained a hint of warmth.
“A murder occurred yesterday afternoon. The arrangement of the victim’s body happened to resemble one of your paintings. According to procedure, we need to ask you some questions.”
Lu Pingfeng’s face showed no signs of surprise, nor did he display sympathy or regret. He didn’t even bother to feign such expressions; instead, he calmly asked, “Which painting?”
“‘Mayfly.'”
“Ah. That was a piece I created a long time ago.” Lu Pingfeng’s expression remained serene, the part of him illuminated by the morning light resembling an angelic statue in a cathedral, possessing a pure and tranquil beauty.
However, when he lowered his head and smiled faintly, there was a hint of cold irony in the curve of his lips.
“Perhaps the killer is one of your crazed fans or a blind follower, someone who seeks to deeply understand the meaning behind your work, your creative intentions. They might have sent you letters, expressing their admiration in various ways. Do you recall any fans or collectors like that?” Zhao Sicheng asked.
Lu Pingfeng smiled and shook his head. It was clearly a polite smile, yet it didn’t come across as false; in fact, there was a kind of transcendent vitality to it.
“Most people only see the mayfly’s brief life, pitying its short existence. But how many can live like a mayfly, using their entire life to reproduce? Even if it’s driven by instinct, it burns its life away madly—for the sake of continuation, to live and die for it.”
One of Lu Pingfeng’s hands rested on his knee, while the other picked up a teacup and saucer, handing it to Zhao Sicheng. It was a gesture of courteous temptation; if you follow him into the abyss, you’ll see the most fundamental truths.
“Thank you.” Zhao Sicheng’s throat moved as he accepted the tea.
Lu Pingfeng smiled lightly, a restrained expression, yet it hinted at an unruly defiance.
“If that person truly understood the meaning of ‘Mayfly,’ they wouldn’t have used it to stage a murder scene.” Lu Pingfeng said.
Zhao Sicheng took a sip of tea and asked, “May I ask where you were yesterday afternoon between 2:00 and 4:00?”
This question was as direct as labeling Lu Pingfeng a suspect.
Lu Pingfeng didn’t rush to explain, nor did he protest the police’s suspicions. He simply answered calmly, “I was in my studio.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
Lu Pingfeng looked at the butler next to him, “Uncle He can vouch for me.”
“Ah, yes. Housekeeper Qin was also cleaning at the time, and she saw Sir,” Uncle He said.
“Please leave Ms. Qin’s contact information with us. Besides the housekeeper and cleaning staff, is there anyone else who can verify your whereabouts?”
Lu Pingfeng lifted his chin, his gaze landing on the surveillance camera on the ceiling.
“My agent suggested I install cameras in my home after a sketch was stolen from my studio.”
“We’d like to review the footage from that afternoon, if possible. Also, may we take a look at your studio?”
“Of course.” Lu Pingfeng stood up, “After all, if I refused, Captain Zhao might show up next time with a search warrant.”
A few seconds later, the sound of “cut” rang out, and the first scene wrapped smoothly without any significant hiccups.
Sitting in front of the monitor, Sheng Yunlan folded his arms and nodded, his eyes narrowed.
The crew members watching were all in awe of Gu Xiaowei’s acting. If they hadn’t been present on set, they wouldn’t have been able to feel the intensity of his commanding presence.
Nie Yangchen, watching from the side, was surprised.
Many had sung Gu Xiaowei’s praises for his acting, but Nie Yangchen had always thought it was three parts post-production, and another three parts the cinematography.
But in just this short scene, every glance, even the subtle angle of Gu Xiaowei’s cold yet courteous smile, seemed as though it had been rehearsed thousands of times, presented in the most perfect way.
Nie Yangchen couldn’t help but imagine himself in Gu Xiaowei’s place. How would he portray Lu Pingfeng? The more he thought about it, the more a chill and inexplicable fear rose in his heart. How could anyone really bring such a Lu Pingfeng to life?
Gentle, yet complex, and as cold as purity.
Gu Xiaowei left the sofa and walked toward Luo Yu.
He stepped out of the morning light streaming through the window, his entire being exuding a cold detachment from all things.
But as Luo Yu extended a thermos toward him, the closer Gu Xiaowei came, the more warmth seemed to envelop him, until the cold dissolved and he stood in front of Luo Yu.
He took the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and poured some coffee into the cup lid, taking two sips.
The rich aroma spread between the two of them.
“Smells good. Did you grind it yourself?” Luo Yu asked with a smile.
You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )
Everyone on set instinctively kept their distance from Gu Xiaowei, allowing him to fully immerse in the role of Lu Pingfeng. But Luo Yu was the only one who chatted with him as if he were still Gu Xiaowei.
“Mm. Do you want some?” Gu Xiaowei asked.
Even his voice had softened, as if it could melt a hole in someone’s heart, sending warm steam into that cavity, wrapping around their every breath.
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