Has the Fallen Young Master Changed His Heart Today? - Chapter 2.2

December 12, 2019.

Back then, they weren’t together yet.

After seeing it, more than one person struggled internally before cautiously asking, “Who’s this?”

Jiang Yanming’s answer was always the same, calmly saying something shocking.

“The person I like.”

This affection was always out in the open, never hidden.

Jiang Yanming, who walked out, got into his car, where there was also a photo of Gu Qingzhi.

In the clean car, the only decoration hung below the rearview mirror, a pocket watch-like ornament.

He sat in the seat, hands resting at his sides, as if lost in thought for a long time.

“This is for you, bought when I was traveling abroad, never used.”

He opened it.

“You can put a photo here, remember, a photo of someone important. That’s what the seller said when I bought it, even claiming it could keep them safe. They’ll say anything to sell stuff.”

The pocket watch was Gu Qingzhi’s gift to Jiang Yanming for helping with so many sketches.

That night, a photo was placed inside.

Since it was a photo he printed himself, the image was a bit blurry.

Later, after they got together, Jiang Yanming always remembered this.

“Stand there, I’ll take a picture.”

Opening the pocket watch revealed Gu Qingzhi standing at the gate of Jiang City University.

He remembered how the heat made him impatient, his little face scrunched up, very cute.

In the car, Jiang Yanming took down the pocket watch, looked at it for a while, then hung it back. He took out his phone, searching for “Zhi Yu Barbecue” on the map.

It was so close.

He’d searched for so long, yet never realized their workplaces were just a thirty-minute drive apart.

The car sped up, getting closer, and he saw the lit-up sign by the road.

“Your destination is on your left.”

The navigation stopped, and Jiang Yanming luckily found a parking spot by the road.

The barbecue shop was still packed, with over ten people sitting on small chairs outside, heads down, playing on their phones, waiting for seats.

Jiang Yanming rolled down the window, looking out.

The shop’s door was open, and after watching for over ten seconds, he saw Gu Qingzhi walking from inside toward the entrance.

He carried a tray of skewers, turned to a booth, and came back out quickly.

For the next hour or so, Jiang Yanming saw Gu Qingzhi go back and forth many times.

Until he took off his work uniform and walked to the entrance.

There were still many people waiting outside, many girls looking at him.

He was, as always, popular.

Gu Qingzhi stepped down the stairs and stood by the door, looking drained, indifferent to everything around him, not sparing a glance.

He didn’t care how dirty the wall was, leaning against it, then reaching into his pants pocket.

Jiang Yanming, sitting in the car across the street, watched.

He saw the boy who had never smoked before take out a cigarette and lighter from the box, put the cigarette in his mouth, and light it with practiced ease.

Gu Qingzhi exhaled, gray smoke spreading, briefly blurring his figure.

To others, Gu Qingzhi seemed more captivating now, with a sense of contrast.

But Jiang Yanming only wondered when he started smoking, how many he smoked daily, and if he was addicted.

After a few puffs, Gu Qingzhi walked to a trash can a few steps away, extinguished the half-smoked cigarette, and threw it away.

At that moment, a boy in a work uniform ran out from inside.

“Boss, we’ve changed, heading to work now. Brother Qin says to wait for him.”

“Mm.”

He asked, “When will the ordered tables and chairs arrive?”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow during the day.”

“Got it.”

The boy ran back to serve customers, and Gu Qingzhi stood at the entrance.

He looked down at his account balance, thinking about things he wanted to buy and wages to pay, so he quickly decided not to fix the water heater at home.

It only acted up once or twice a week, not a big deal, he could endure it.

Jiang Yanming’s gaze was blatant, yet Gu Qingzhi didn’t glance across the street once.

“Let’s go.”

Qin Yu, having changed out of his work uniform, patted Gu Qingzhi’s shoulder from behind.

Gu Qingzhi had already grabbed his motorcycle keys.

“Subway station?”

“Yeah.”

Like many times before, Gu Qingzhi would ride his motorcycle to drop Qin Yu at the nearby subway station, then head home himself.

Qin Yu sat in the back, patting Gu Qingzhi’s arm once settled.

Then, the motorcycle sped off.

As the figure left again, Jiang Yanming, by the roadside, rolled up the car window.

Back home, Jiang Yanming draped his coat over the sofa.

As always, he showed little expression, giving off a vibe that, despite being quiet, made people think he had a bad temper and was unapproachable.

The house had two floors, located in An City’s famous luxury neighborhood.

Jiang Yanming lived in the best two-story villa in the area, with a private garage at the entrance.

But the house felt empty, his belongings too few.

Jiang Yanming placed one hand on the sofa’s backrest, standing there, as if frozen for a few seconds, before dragging his steps upstairs.

He had a destination, his right hand turning the doorknob, and soon, the room was lit up.

This was his art studio.

Many easels stood inside, each holding canvases of different sizes.

When the light turned on, the sudden burst of color was dazzling, all vying for attention.

But as the colors faded, the only thing noticeable was that the one person in every painting was always the same.

A boy with a gentle look, slightly curled lashes, bright and large eyes, faint dimples, a charming smile, and a habit of covering his face with his left hand when laughing.

Footsteps echoed in the room.

He paused, then stepped again, one step, two steps, following a hidden timeline, reliving past stories over and over.

Jiang Yanming often stayed in this room.

After looking at each painting, he would sit on the floor, in front of the largest canvas, gazing at the boy’s side profile.

Sitting on the floor, he didn’t seem as tall as when standing, just a boy lost in thought, perhaps troubled or unable to figure something out.

At this moment, Jiang Yanming didn’t resemble the quiet, solitary company leader who tolerated no flaws.

Jiang Yanming was quiet, not speaking to the person in the paintings, knowing there would be no response.

So, he just looked, thought, and remembered.

This was the first time he spoke in this room.

To himself.

His soft voice seemed on the verge of breaking.

He said, “Almost three years.”

We haven’t seen each other in almost three years.