100. Chapter 100: What Do You Want Me to Say? (2)

“It’s all right. It’s the studio; anyone can come in,” Oya came over.

Qiao Xi watched him approach, saying nothing.

Oya moved to her side and looked at the painting on the easel.

“It looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he said.

“Yes.” Qiao Xi nodded.

Oya gave a faint smile. With two fingers he lightly traced the side profile on the canvas.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen her,” he said softly—not with his usual softness, but with a gentle tenderness. “Though she doesn’t know.”

His eyes were intensely focused on the painting; his fingers moved with a delicate care.

This was the first time she had seen him like this, immersed in his own world, all for that girl in the painting.

She stayed silent and looked at the picture, just as he did.

Suddenly he asked, “Do you like it?”

“?” She looked at him in confusion.

“This painting,” he explained.

Qiao Xi didn’t quite understand what he meant, and simply said, “It’s beautiful.”

“If you like it,” Oya said, watching her with a look of careful intensity, “I’ll give it to you.”

Qiao Xi paused, staring at him in bewilderment.

He offered no further explanation.

“Why are you giving it to me?” she asked after a moment.

“Nothing.” Oya turned his gaze back to the painting, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Maybe I thought if it were you, you’d keep it.”

Why did he not keep it himself if he wanted to preserve it? Qiao Xi thought this, but did not say it aloud.

“The girl in the painting…” she began, then stopped, her eyes drifting back to the canvas.

Oya, however, was watching her watching it, and her profile, calm and quiet as it was, gave him something he wanted to hold onto.

He lifted his hand, as if to touch her cheek.

Qiao Xi felt him, turned her head a little, and saw his hand coming very close to her face.

“Your hair is a little messy,” he said, tucking the strands scattered across her forehead behind her ears.

His fingertips brushed her skin almost imperceptibly, leaving a tiny, tingling discomfort.

He lowered his hand. “Now it’s much better.”

Qiao Xi was silent for a while, then finally said, “Thank you.” She added, “I don’t have a habit of collecting paintings.”

“Is that so?” Oya only replied.

“I’ll leave now.” Qiao Xi said, and turned to go. Just as she reached the door, she suddenly stopped. “You…” She slowly turned back, looking at him. “What did you want to tell me yesterday?”

“What did you want me to say?” Oya asked with a smile.

The smile was a little deeper than the ones she had seen before—charming, yet deliberate.

“Nothing,” she said, returning a soft smile. “I won’t disturb you anymore.”

She turned once more and this time walked away without hesitation.

Only when her figure disappeared at the doorway did Oya let his smile fade.

He turned back and looked at the painting with deep concentration.

Then he slowly raised his hand, fingers gently touching that faint side shadow again.

At the time he had been painting the view outside the window; she had suddenly appeared beneath the maple tree. That was the first time he had seen her.

He kept staring at it, and slowly his hand moved to the edge of the paper, then from the center began to tear it apart as softly as silk.

The phone rang. His movement froze, and he picked it up.

He frowned slightly when he saw the number on the screen.

After a moment, he answered. “I already know what happened at school. As we agreed from the beginning—”

“Your promise, not mine.” he interrupted, then ended the call.

Two eyes kept watching Qiao Xi as she walked away, and in Xu Jiaer’s eyes there was only jealous fire.
She had known Oya usually loved to come here to paint, so she had come looking for him on purpose, never expecting to find Qiao Xi here as well.