Chương 21: Unexpected Moment (3)
Yan An studied the painting intently, his fingers absently twirling a pencil. The artwork before him was a masterpiece by Raffaello Sanzio, one of the most renowned painters of the 15th and 16th centuries. The frame bore the inscription: 1517—three years before his death. The painting depicted a young man with soft curls and a serene smile, captured in exquisite detail. Even the mole on his chin appeared almost lifelike. The color palette was rich, carefully selected to bring vibrancy to the subject, and the texture of the paint suggested oil—a medium that enhanced its depth and warmth.
Yan An's concentration was momentarily broken when his companion, Sheng Chu, spoke beside him.
"This painting is amazing," she mused, her gaze sweeping over the museum walls. "I really love the ancient feel of it." Then, pointing at another painting, she asked, "Between Leonardo and Raffaello, who do you think is better?"
Yan An sighed, closing his eyes briefly before answering. "Sheng Chu, they're both extraordinary in their own right. Comparing them would be meaningless."
Sheng Chu tilted her head, amused. She clapped her hands lightly. "You're such an artist," she said with a grin. "You respect all painters, and I admire that."
Yan An responded with only a faint, painful smile.
Becoming a celebrated painter had been his childhood dream. He had once imagined his own artwork displayed in grand museums, admired by people from all walks of life. Yet, reality had been far less kind. The weight of his family's struggles crushed his ambitions, and lately, his dream felt like a fleeting illusion.
His grip on the pencil loosened, and it slipped from his fingers. The small wooden stick hit the ground and rolled—before stopping at someone's feet. Unaware, Yan An bent down to retrieve it, but a hand had already picked it up.
A familiar hand.
Yan An lifted his gaze, ready to mutter a polite thanks. But the moment his eyes landed on the figure before him, his breath caught.
Jiang Yanxu.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
It had been months. Months since that man had walked away from his life, leaving behind nothing but a trail of wounds too deep to heal. After all the rejection, the pain, the cold-hearted indifference—Yan An had never expected to see him again.
His lips parted slightly in disbelief. His body tensed, instinctively straightening as unease seeped into his bones. The air around them thickened, suffocating.
Jiang Yanxu, however, stood frozen as well. His fingers tightened around the pencil, as if anchoring himself to reality. He had imagined this encounter countless times, yet now that it was happening, he could barely think, let alone speak.
A thousand emotions clashed within him—shock, guilt, an overwhelming sense of longing he had no right to feel. But outwardly, he schooled his expression, forcing his hands to remain steady.
Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than he intended. "Here, you dropped it."
Yan An hesitated for a second before reaching out. Their fingers barely brushed as he took the pencil back.
"Thank you," he murmured stiffly.
Jiang Yanxu noticed it then—how hard Yan An was trying to remain indifferent, how his lips refused to form even the smallest smile.
He could barely breathe past the regret coiling inside him.
The silence between them stretched unbearably. Sheng Chu glanced between them, sensing the tension, but before she could say anything, Jiang Yanxu broke it first.
"You … you're here …" His voice was almost hesitant, an uncharacteristic uncertainty lacing his words. "Since when?"
Yan An's expression remained unreadable. He wasn't sure how to answer—wasn't sure if he even wanted to answer.
But before he could, another voice cut through the moment.
"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."
Jiang Yanxu instinctively turned, recognizing the voice even before he saw the approaching figure.
Wen Haoyi.
Unlike Jiang Yanxu, Wen Haoyi's reaction was anything but conflicted. The moment he spotted Yan An, his face lit up with a familiar, easygoing smile.
"Yan An! Long time no see, yeah?" he greeted warmly, extending a hand.
Yan An hesitated but accepted the handshake briefly. "… Yeah. Long time no see."
But the weight pressing down on his chest was unbearable. He couldn't stay here any longer.
"We have to leave," Yan An abruptly said, his voice tight.
Before anyone could react, he grabbed Sheng Chu's wrist and pulled her away.
Sheng Chu barely had time to register what was happening before she was being dragged toward the museum exit. Once they were a safe distance away, Yan An finally released her.
Sheng Chu let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing her wrist. "Ow! My hand hurts, you know."
Yan An blinked, suddenly feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."
She huffed, though there was no real anger behind it. "You owe me a meal," she declared. "And then I'll forgive you."
Yan An exhaled, a small chuckle escaping him. "Fine."
As they made their way toward a nearby restaurant, Sheng Chu couldn't shake the question lingering in her mind. Eventually, she blurted it out.
"Yan An, that man … who was he? Why did you look so nervous around him?"
Yan An stiffened. He didn't want to answer. But Sheng Chu, being as persistent as ever, nudged him. "Come on, tell me. I won't tell anyone, I swear."
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "He's just … an acquaintance," he finally said. "Our fathers used to work together, and we lived in the same city. I haven't seen him in a while, so it just caught me off guard."
A harmless lie.
Because the truth? The truth was too much.
The truth was that Jiang Yanxu wasn't just an acquaintance. He was his ex-husband. The man who had once stood by his side—only to abandon him, leaving scars that refused to fade.
How could he ever admit that?
Sheng Chu frowned, clearly unconvinced. She studied his face for a moment before teasing, "Are you sure he's just an acquaintance? Because you looked like you'd seen a ghost. Or an ex-lover, hahaha!"
Yan An rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. We've barely spoken before."
Sheng Chu burst out laughing. "Yeah, right. Your face says otherwise."
"Whatever," Yan An muttered, picking up his pace to walk ahead of her.
Sheng Chu gasped. "Hey! You can't just ignore me like that!"
She hurried to catch up, her laughter echoing behind him.
Yan An didn't respond—because deep down, he knew.
Some ghosts were never meant to be left in the past.
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