บท 12: 11: Winter Storm and Memoir of The Soul
Beta'd by SnowyEgrett
Lin FenXiang leaned on the leather seat of the car he was sitting in. He sighed.
After getting an earful from Mother and Father Lin, Lin ZhiHuang, Lin FengYuan and even Lin QingLan, it took a lot of effort from him to convince his family to let him go to London alone.
He had to repeatedly assure the distressed family that he would manage and that he had Bai XiNian to guide him through this trip.
Now, here he was, sitting inside the car which would drop him to the airport. He slumped against the seat and heaving a short sigh, he closed his eyes.
The first thing to do was go to the museum and see his paintings with his own eyes. Although he knew that they would inevitably have sustained some damage from the flow of time.
He just hoped that the damage wasn't so bad.
He'd made and sold a lot of paintings in his lifetime, most of which were bought by collectors of art. Somehow, he had a hunch that Avoidless Choix wouldn't be in this exhibition.
Before long, the car stopped and the chauffeur helped him take out his luggage and then left.
Lin FenXiang passed through the rigorous security checks and finally boarded the plane, before switching off his phone he quickly sent Bai XiNian a text so that he could be there by the time he reached London.
For the past three days — other than shooting the drama —he'd listened to British English podcasts so that he could grasp the changes the said language has gone through during these years.
In conclusion, there were a lot of changes. But fortunately, Lin FenXiang was nothing if not a quick learner. He quickly got the gist of the language, but now he had to practise conversing with someone.
He felt exhaustion wash over him as his head touched the seat. Fixing the face mask on his face, he closed his eyes again and slowly fell asleep.
He should probably get some sleep.
By the time Lin FenXiang woke up, he noticed someone sitting on the seat by his side. His seat was by the window while the person was sitting in the middle seat, staring at him.
As soon as they noticed him glancing at them, they turned to him and smiled.
"Hello," they said in a low voice. "Your destination?" They had a standard RP accent.
Lin FenXiang refrained from raising an eyebrow at his luck.
Wow, jackpot. He thought. It was, after all, a good choice to go in economy class.
God forbid, that little shit Bai XiNian had booked a first class ticket. Lin FenXiang almost had a heart attack the moment he saw the price and forced his best friend into changing the ticket to economy class.
Miser Drystan was, after all, a frightening person.
Lin FenXiang answered them in a soft voice. "Oxford. How about you?"
Their face showed surprise as soon as they heard him speak.
"Wow, your English is perfect." They smiled. "Have you perhaps stayed in Britain for some years?"
"Well…" Lin FenXiang made a face under his mask. "Technically, I have not."
"Technically?"
"Yes, technically."
"Well, Mr. Stranger keep your secrets," they huffed in amusement. "I'm going to Oxford as well. I'm Tristan by the way, and I prefer going by they/them over he/him."
Again, Lin FenXiang refrained from raising an eyebrow. How gender identities have changed over the years.
"Lin FenXiang," he offered his own name and the two of them descended into a conversation about art the moment they found their common interests.
"You are alone?" Tristan asked curiously. Lin FenXiang nodded.
"Well, I'm not," they shrugged. "Alone, that is. I'm with my boyfriend."
"Oh?" Lin FenXiang tilted his head to the side and glanced to their side. "I assume they are your boyfriend?"
Tristan nodded happily. "Yes." Then they tapped on their boyfriend's shoulder and said to him, "Hey, get up darling, I got a new friend!"
Their boyfriend sluggishly woke up and turned to look at them. He then leaned forward and pecked Tristan's forehead and mumbled.
"Go off, love."
Lin FenXiang was positively blinded by this display of affection and was starting to feel single, really, really single.
Sigh, what a day to miss Adrastus.
Tristan's boyfriend — now finally awake enough— turned his attention to Lin FenXiang and smiled.
"I assume you are the new friend," he reached out a hand for a handshake. "I'm Charles, Charles Anderson."
Lin FenXiang took the hand offered, with a polite nod, he answered. "Lin FenXiang," with a pause, he continued. "But I guess I do have an English name—" grimacing under his mask. "—Michael Lin, so I guess you can call me Michael."
Charles nodded in understanding. "I see, so what were you guys talking about out—"
Tristan made an offended noise as they glared at Lin FenXiang. "You didn't tell me you have an English name! For the past half an hour I've been fumbling with your name!"
Lin FenXiang pulled the mask down and flashed them a merry smile before pulling it back up.
He said, "Well, it was fun."
Charles snorted, "I like you."
Tristan rolled their eyes, crossing their arms on their chest, they scoffed. "Of course you like him."
Lin FenXiang did not deign him with a reply.
After a short silence between the three of them, Charles spoke up.
"So are you going to Oxford as well?" Lin FenXiang hummed in reply.
"I want to attend an art exhibition."
Tristan perked up at the mention of an art exhibition and asked. "Ashmolean?"
Lin FenXiang, finally, raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Yeah, Ashmolean Museum."
"Oh my god, we are going there too, what a coincidence!" Tristan smiled as they gushed. "You are going there because the exhibition will be of Drystan Meyer's paintings, right?"
Lin FenXiang nodded again, "That's an easy guess. The whole internet is boiling because of that."
"I know! It's really hard to grab a ticket."
"Mn, I got it from a friend who works as a curator there."
"We got it because," Charles answered at Lin FenXiang's curious look directed their way. "Our grandpas, theirs and mine, have been discussing about donating two of Drystan Meyer's paintings to the museum with the authorities. So they, sort of, have invited us to take a look at the measures they will take for up-keeping of the paintings."
Lin FenXiang paused slightly. "Which paintings? If you don't mind telling me."
Charles shrugged. "Nah, don't mind," he said nonchalantly. "Those two aren't as popular as his other works anyway."
"Hey!" Tristan protested. "They are a work of art, they aren't as popular because they were passed down to our families and most people weren't allowed to see them."
"Ah, yes. Sorry, got a little sidetracked."
Lin FenXiang shook his head, "No, that's fine."
"Hm, the one my grandpa had was named 'Winter Storm'."
Oh, Lin FenXiang thought faintly. Right, he remembered painting one on commission and then naming it Winter Storm.
What was the client's name? Ah, yes, Thaddeus Anderson, the Earl of Wilson.
"Oh, I remember that one," he muttered under his breath.
"Pardon?" Charles shot him a confused look.
"Oh, it's nothing," Lin FenXiang waved his hands.
"Alright," Tristan spoke up after a period of silence. "The one my grandpa had was named 'Memoir of The Soul'." He paused as if he thought of something. "It's really beautiful, I tell you that."
George Fletcher Jr., the Earl of Camburt. Lin FenXiang's mind automatically supplied as he glanced at the seemingly inconspicuous couple of noble descent.
"Ah," he breathed out. "I've heard of that one too." He paused. "Although there are barely any photos of them."
Tristan — Tristan Fletcher — snorted. "Of course there aren't. My grandpa really treasures the painting more than his own children."
Charles winced at his words. "Same."
Lin FenXiang trained his gaze on them and gave both of them the most judgemental look he could muster up.
"I sense emotional trauma here." He said dryly.
"Nothing new, my friend, there's nothing new."
Charles nodded along, "Old news, Michael."
Lin FenXiang suppressed a snort of laughter. "Good to know."
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Author has something to say:
Tristan and Charles: Who has an emotional trauma? We have an emotional trauma~
Xiao Xiang: Same
Tristan and Charles: Wha-
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(Minor revision)
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