Chapter 55 There Is Only One You

Chapter 55: There Is Only One You

Lin Lu looked curious. "Hmm, what's the second method?"

Geng Yu grinned. "The second method is to make a mark! First, you influence the examiners, and when they see this mark, they’ll give a good score. For example, do you know what this year’s mark is?"

Lin Lu shook his head. "No idea."

Geng Yu formed a "V" with his fingers.

"That's it?"

"Obviously not as blatant as writing a 'V' outright—it has to be concealed. Like drawing a V-shaped crease on the collar in a portrait sketch, hiding a 'V' in the strands of hair, or working it into the shadows."

"What if the examiner misses it?"

"They won’t. They know what to look for." Geng Yu smirked confidently.

After finishing the barbecue, Lin Lu went home, showered, and sat on his bed, deep in thought. Though Geng Yu wasn’t exactly hardworking, he was still an art student. If he said Jiang Ruotang’s skills were average, then they probably were.

Should he tell Jiang Ruotang about the secret mark?

Maybe Jiang Ruotang already knew but was playing dumb because he didn’t trust Geng Yu—or even Lin Lu anymore.

In Lin Lu’s mind, Jiang Ruotang could never measure up to him. In fact, he low-key hoped Jiang Ruotang would give up painting and fail to get into college.

That was why, when Bai Yingchuan transferred to their school, Lin Lu had wanted to use Bai’s disdain to crush Jiang Ruotang’s passion for art. In Lin Lu’s imagination, if Bai Yingchuan saw Jiang Ruotang’s sketches and portraits filled with affection, he’d think Jiang was no different from stalkers and voyeurs. Once Jiang Ruotang felt that disgust, he’d surely stop painting.

After all, what could be more heartbreaking than being despised by the person you love?

But Lin Lu never expected Jiang Ruotang to get rid of all his old pieces—even the one he gave to Bai Yingchuan was distant and hastily done. Ironically, this aloof style unexpectedly won Bai Yingchuan’s admiration...

As for the unified art exam, Lin Lu wasn’t naive enough to fully believe Geng Yu’s claims.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ruotang was working on portrait sketches in the rooftop studio, with Zhao Zhangfeng as his model.

Zhao slouched on the sofa, messing with his phone. "Done yet? I can’t hold this pose forever… Can’t you just take a photo and paint from that?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"If I take a photo, you’ll leave, and I’ll be alone. How lonely would that be?"

Jiang Ruotang’s blatant excuse nearly made Zhao Zhangfeng lose it on the spot.

"I’ll kill you!"

"Hey, I kept you here because your features are sharp, your eyes are big and clear, and you look three-dimensional under the light. Photos distort things—they can’t capture your natural good looks." Jiang Ruotang immediately laid on the charm.

"Really?"

"Really. Do you know what I love sketching the most?"

Though he was currently working on a sketch, Zhao Zhangfeng didn’t notice the difference between sketches and quick drawings.

"What?"

"Your game videos. Your rebounds and shots are so cool—I’ve drawn them all. Want to bet that every single one would put any photo taken by sports journalists to shame?"

"You’ve drawn that many of me? Where are they?"

"Don’t move. Once I finish the outline and shading, you can do whatever you want."

Just then, Jiang Ruotang’s phone rang—it was Lin Lu calling.

What a rare guest.

"Hey, Lin Lu? What's going on?"

Lin Lu asked cautiously, "Is anyone around you?"

"Huh? Just Zhao Zhangfeng across from me. Why?"

Seeing Jiang Ruotang on the phone, Zhao Zhangfeng couldn’t sit still any longer and started searching the studio, hoping to find Jiang Ruotang’s sketchbook.

Lin Lu spoke in a concerned tone. "I chatted with Geng Yu today, and he told me this year’s exam mark is the letter 'V.' It has to be hidden—in shadows, hair, or folds. I don’t know if it’ll help you, but I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out."

Jiang Ruotang closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He really didn’t need Lin Lu’s unnecessary meddling.

If Lin Lu hadn’t said anything, it would’ve been fine. But now, even if Jiang Ruotang did well, Lin Lu could subtly hint he had cheated.

"Thanks for the concern, but the mark might not even be real. Don’t put too much stock in it. Think about it—if Geng Yu told you so easily, wouldn’t he be afraid someone might report him?"

Lin Lu went quiet for a moment before chuckling. "You’re right. I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble."

After hanging up, Jiang Ruotang noticed Zhao Zhangfeng sitting cross-legged on the studio floor, flipping through a sketchbook.

"What’s got you so engrossed?" Jiang Ruotang walked up behind him, hands behind his back, and looked over his shoulder.

The page showed Zhao Zhangfeng mid-dunk, one arm outstretched toward the hoop, muscles taut with explosive power. Zhao Zhangfeng looked up, meeting Jiang Ruotang’s eyes. "You drew this? Me?"

"Who else would it be?" Jiang Ruotang was amused.

Zhao Zhangfeng kept flipping—pages of him grabbing rebounds, sinking three-pointers with effortless grace. Jiang Ruotang wasn’t kidding—his drawings were even better than the photos taken by the school newspaper.

"Jiang Ruotang, how much did you exaggerate here?"

Jiang Ruotang laughed. "Huh? I drew these directly from game footage! Why would I exaggerate you!"

Zhao Zhangfeng wanted to touch the drawings but hesitated, afraid of smudging the lines. He could feel it—in these sketches, he was the focal point, the undisputed protagonist.

And there wasn’t just one. The entire sketchbook was filled with them.

Zhao Zhangfeng looked up, slightly flustered but earnest. "So… can I have this?"

"You can, but I have a condition." Jiang Ruotang cocked his head.

"What condition…?" Zhao Zhangfeng tilted his head, then suddenly widened his eyes and hugged the sketchbook protectively. "You… Jiang Ruotang, you’re not—"

"Don’t tell you what?"

"—have a crush on me?"

"…What?" Jiang Ruotang stood stunned.

Who am I? Where am I? Is my brain broken, or are my ears deceiving me?

"Jiang Ruotang, even if I’m broad-shouldered, long-legged, oozing testosterone, and ridiculously handsome… we’re on the same family registry! I’m not doing anything incestuous with you!"

Jiang Ruotang was speechless. "Zhao Zhangfeng—did you get hit in the head or something?"

"Otherwise... why would you draw an entire sketchbook of me? And make me look so handsome? Isn't this just what's in your heart?"

"I'm going crazy!" Jiang Ruotang grabbed one sketchbook after another and smacked them against Zhao Zhangfeng's head.

"This one is for Sister Juan—doesn’t she look gentle and graceful?"

"This one is for Mom—doesn’t she have elegance and grace?"

"This one is for Dad—doesn’t he look cultured, refined, and profound?"

"And this one is for Xiao Gao, my art teacher! Everyone has several sketchbooks! Does drawing someone mean I like them? Then I’ve also drawn cats, dogs, and grasshoppers! Does that mean my love extends from humans to non-humans?"

Just as Jiang Ruotang was about to flip open another sketchbook, the first page revealed a pair of eyes he had drawn over and over—from every angle, every expression. This was his true hidden longing. He quickly closed the sketchbook and placed it back on the shelf without a word.

Zhao Zhangfeng was embarrassed beyond belief.

"Uh... I just wanted to say you draw really well..." Zhao Zhangfeng’s face turned red from his neck all the way to his forehead—it was downright comical.

"Hmph." Jiang Ruotang angrily reached to take the sketchbook back.

"Wait! Just tell me, what do you want me to do for you? Keep being your model?"

"You can’t even sit still—how could you be my model? Yeah right! I just want to hear you sincerely call me 'brother.'" Jiang Ruotang grinned.

"Seriously? That’s it? You’re making a big deal out of this?" Zhao Zhangfeng’s face flushed inexplicably.

"Then say it—let me hear it!" Jiang Ruotang nudged him with his shoulder.

"Mm..."

"What 'mm'? I didn’t hear you!"

"But—"

"Hey, Zhao Zhangfeng, you’re all tough on the basketball court—why are you so chicken with me?"

Zhao Zhangfeng took a deep breath and suddenly roared, "Bro—bro—brother—!"

It was so loud it nearly blasted the attic ceiling off, startling Jiang Huaiyuan in the study downstairs, who rushed up to see what was happening.

Jiang Huaiyuan: "What’s going on? No fighting, you two!"

"Dad, it’s fine. Zhangfeng was just calling for me."

"Calling for you? I thought he was about to punch you."

Zhao Zhangfeng grumbled, "If he keeps pulling more stunts, I really will punch him."

Jiang Ruotang handed him the sketchbook. "Keep it safe, little brother. When you make it to the NBA, I’ll hold an exhibition just for you!"

"You... you’re nuts!"

Seeing that the two were just bickering as usual and clearly got along well, Jiang Huaiyuan chuckled and went back downstairs.

"Brother." Zhao Zhangfeng suddenly called him again, softly this time.

"What? You calling me so tenderly—I’m not used to it." Jiang Ruotang sat cross-legged beside him.

"You draw really well. I don’t know much about art, but it just feels... really, really good. I want to treasure it."

Zhao Zhangfeng rarely gave compliments, but his expression told Jiang Ruotang he meant every word.

"Thanks."

Zhao Zhangfeng said seriously, "So don’t resort to any underhanded tricks... I think you can ace the unified examination with flying colors with your own skills."

So he had overheard Lin Lu’s words to him—that’s why he was reminding him.

Warmth spread in Jiang Ruotang’s chest. "Okay, I promise. Though I could win on talent alone, this time I’ll rely on skill."

Zhao Zhangfeng pondered for a long time—what was the difference between talent and skill?

On the day of the unified examination, though it was a Saturday, high school seniors still had classes. Neither Zhao Zhangfeng nor Cai Ji could accompany him to the exam site—only Jiang Huaiyuan and Zhao Yunshu went with him.

Outside the exam hall, Jiang Ruotang noticed that Zhao Yunshu wasn't the only one in a qipao—many parents had dressed up, getting the full gaokao parent treatment early.

Zhao Yunshu smiled. "See? I told you the qipao was necessary."

Inside the exam hall, time was tight. No matter how much guidance the art teachers had given—controlling light and shadow, blocking in, underpainting... Jiang Ruotang relied purely on instinct. The time seemed sufficient but was deceptively tight; any mistake could leave no time or room for corrections.

While he was in the exam, his classmates were on edge for him too.

For instance, Cai Ji had gone to Youmin Temple with his grandparents at 5 a.m. to burn the day's first incense offering for Jiang Ruotang.

Zhao Zhangfeng, who unusually stayed awake all day instead of napping at his desk, kept checking his phone, waiting for updates in the family group chat.

When Jiang Ruotang finished the sketch portion and mentioned in the group that the subject was an elderly man’s photo, Zhao Zhangfeng couldn’t resist messaging Cai Ji, Jian Sha, and even Lu Guifan.

Teacher Song Qinghe called Lu Guifan’s name from the podium, but for the first time ever, Lu Guifan was so distracted he didn’t respond for a good ten seconds. Only when a classmate nudged him did he finally stand up, slow on the uptake.

Teacher Song had initially worried Lu Guifan might be unwell, but the moment he picked up the chalk, his writing was inspired. He used an unconventional approach instead of his usual method, a roundabout yet more thorough and accessible solution.

This was actually a solution Lu Guifan had devised for Jiang Ruotang. Too bad the most important audience member wasn't there today.

When the unified examination ended, Jiang Ruotang packed up his things, stepped out of the exam hall, and took a deep breath.

The apricot trees lining the road had turned golden, leaves drifted down one by one. Wearing a chestnut wool coat, a plaid scarf, and carrying his art toolbox, Jiang Ruotang looked soft yet striking—his approach toward Jiang Huaiyuan and Zhao Yunshu looked cinematic.

Director Jiang couldn’t resist capturing the moment on his phone and sharing it in the family group chat.

When Zhao Zhangfeng received the clip, he forwarded it to his classmates: [My brother’s done with the exam!]

Normally these live updates would be annoying, but this time, his friends were invested.

Cai Ji clicked on the video and couldn't help marveling, [No wonder it’s Director Jiang’s eye—even shot on a phone it's stunning! Ruo Tang looks so handsome!]

Zhao Zhangfeng tilted his head. Was this really "stunning"?

Though it did make scrawny Jiang Ruotang look artsy.

Zhao Zhangfeng: [What’s the big deal? When we graduate, we’ll get Director Jiang to film a commemorative film for us too!]

Jian Sha sighed wistfully: [Even through the screen, I can smell Jiang Ruotang’s scent wafting off him~]

Zhao Zhangfeng: [The smell of paint?]

Cai Ji: [Knowing Sister Sha, it’s probably the scent of a premium omega.]

Lu Guifan wasn't in a hurry to open the video. He waited until all afternoon classes were over, when his classmates had either gone for a walk on the playground or out to eat. Standing at the end of the corridor, he finally tapped on it.

The warm winter sunlight filtered through golden ginkgo leaves, falling on Jiang Ruotang's face, which wore a bright, uninhibited smile—one that seemed indifferent to the outcome, simply reveling in the process.

This guy constantly needled Lu Guifan, saying things like, "The Class Monitor's eyes are beautiful, like spring breeze, like autumn water, like limpid spring waters." But in truth, the one who was truly beautiful was himself.

Lin Lu could sense the unspoken rapport between Zhao Zhangfeng and Jian Sha. Even Cai Ji had become a latecomer surpassing old-timers, rising to become one of Jiang Ruotang's closest friends, which made Lin Lu somewhat uncomfortable. He lightly tapped Zhao Zhangfeng's desk and asked, "Is it news about Ruotang? How did he do in the Unified Examination?"

Zhao Zhangfeng had no intention of entertaining Lin Lu, but on such a good day, it was better to cross a saint than a snake. "He's done. As for how he did, according to my brother—'Give it your all and let heaven decide.'"

Lin Lu inwardly suppressed a gasp. Since when had Zhao Zhangfeng started calling Jiang Ruotang "my brother" so naturally?

"What are you looking at, then?"

"Oh, just a short clip my dad took of my brother leaving the exam hall as a memento," Zhao Zhangfeng replied.

Unexpectedly, Bai Yingchuan leaned back with sudden interest. "Director Jiang took it? Mind showing me? His cinematography is top-notch. A video of his son must be something special."

"Let me ask my dad and brother first. If they agree, I'll send it to you," Zhao Zhangfeng said, assuming Bai Yingchuan was just interested in Jiang Huaiyuan's work.

But Lin Lu knew—Bai Yingchuan's real interest was Jiang Ruotang himself.

Soon after, Bai Yingchuan received the video, along with Zhao Zhangfeng's tongue-in-cheek remark: "Learn well from Director Jiang."

With the Unified Examination over, Jiang Ruotang didn’t have to return to school for night study. But then he got a message from Lu Guifan: [Free tonight? Let’s go check out JinShang MALL.]

Jiang Ruotang tilted his head. Since when was Lu Guifan interested in shopping?

[You’re skipping night study?]

Lu Guifan’s reply came faster than Jiang Ruotang expected: [Night study doesn’t mean much to me.]

What he really meant was: *Without you there, night study doesn’t mean much to me.*

Reading the message, Jiang Ruotang would’ve thought the guy had that full-of-himself swagger—if he didn’t know Lu Guifan’s character.

[Sure! Let’s meet at JinShang MALL, Block A! Pizza's on me!]

Once the plan was set, Lu Guifan immediately went to Teacher Song’s office to request permission to leave.

This surprised Teacher Song. Even when sick with a fever, Lu Guifan had never missed class. This was his first leave request in all of high school, making Teacher Song take it seriously.

"Lu Guifan, are you feeling unwell? Or is there something urgent at home?"

"No, Teacher Song... I just made plans with someone and need to keep them."

Lu Guifan wasn’t good at lying, nor did he see the need. Even if Teacher Song refused, he’d still go. He’d promised his parents to buy something for Jiang Ruotang.

Song Qinghe fell silent for two seconds before nodding. "Very well. I trust you know your limits. Stay safe, and text me when you get home."

"Okay." Lu Guifan agreed.

After getting permission, he returned to the classroom, grabbed his bag, and left.

From school, he’d need to transfer from a bus to the subway. But it was rush hour, and traffic was predictably congested.

Not wanting to keep Jiang Ruotang waiting, Lu Guifan took off running.

His bag bounced behind him, his coat flapping in the wind. The cold air stung his cheeks, making his skin tight and sore, but his heart thrummed with newfound excitement.

Since childhood, he’d never chased after anything. Every goal had been measured, never requiring such urgency.

Finally reaching the subway station, his heart pounded heavily against his ribs. He took a deep breath, checked the time, and strode inside.

Fortune favored him—a train arrived just as he entered. Confirming the direction, he boarded and glanced at his phone again. Jiang Ruotang hadn’t texted yet. Lu Guifan exhaled slightly.

The subway was packed. Holding onto a strap with one hand, he pulled out his phone and, almost unconsciously, replayed the video Zhao Zhangfeng had sent.

The phone’s resolution was crisp—Jiang Ruotang’s features were clear, his cheeks faintly downy under the sunlight.

With the video fully loaded, he watched it several more times, ignoring data usage.

Nearby, someone’s phone rang with a popular love song.

*"Tomorrow is vivid and concrete, with only one you—"* (*"Millennium"*)

The rhythm inexplicably synced with Jiang Ruotang’s steps in the video, like a soundtrack, piercing a tiny hole in Lu Guifan’s heart and stirring an inexplicable, lingering thrill.

Jiang Ruotang did arrive at JinShang MALL first. He’d handed his bag to Xiao Gao to take home, keeping only his phone and portable charger in his coat pocket. While waiting for Lu Guifan, he wandered around the first floor.

Luxury brands lined the area, their prices outrageous—like this European label famous for men’s wear, where a single shirt cost thousands and a coat tens of thousands.

Jiang Ruotang strolled in. It wasn’t the weekend, so the store was quiet.

A stylish young man, clearly fashion-savvy, browsed clothes while a clerk waited on him. Occasionally, he turned to consult a middle-aged man seated on a sofa.

The man wore an expensive suit, like central casting's idea of a tycoon. Though disinterested in fashion, he still nodded along with the young man’s choices.

Jiang Ruotang lowered his head, recalling gossip he’d heard at the art studio.

Some students at Chengjiang Performance Institute dated wealthy individuals—partly for material benefits, partly to network for future industry connections.

Even their school’s principal had once scolded during morning assembly, *"Recently, the trend of gold-digging has declined..."*

An upperclassman who lived near the institute nearly face-planted upon hearing that speech.

Jiang Ruotang wondered if the students had cringed hard enough to tunnel to China with their toes.

According to the upperclassman, these ambitious students often frequented JinShang MALL’s luxury section—some to hunt for prospects, others to size up their dates' wallets.

The thought crossed Jiang Ruotang’s mind, though he didn’t dwell on the duo’s relationship. As he turned to leave, the man on the sofa glanced up and caught Jiang Ruotang’s profile—his face illuminated under the store’s unforgiving overhead lighting.

Those lights were notorious for being unforgiving, accentuating every flaw.

Yet Jiang Ruotang tilted his chin up, his expression casually flawless, as if posing for an editorial shoot.

The man paused, then set aside his laptop and approached. "Hello," he said warmly. "Are you from Chengjiang Performance Institute too?"

Jiang Ruotang almost laughed. *Talk about coincidence.*

But when he got a proper look at the man’s face, he nearly did a double take.

This was Pei Qian—future head of content acquisitions at Yunfeng Video, a power player every studio and filmmaker needed to curry favor with.

The young man shopping nearby visibly bristled.

"No, you’ve got the wrong person," Jiang Ruotang said, making for the door.

"Really? Which university are you from, then?" Pei Qian smiled, closing the distance. Jiang Ruotang was speechless. He knew his looks were decent but nothing to write home about—youthful at best, perhaps, but nothing extraordinary. Back in his past life, not even Pei Qian had given him the time of day.

What's going on today?

After stuffing myself with seafood and abalone, I could really go for some millet porridge.

"I'm still a high school student," Jiang Ruotang replied irritably, trying to sidestep the guy to get away.

Unexpectedly, the man cut him off again.

"At this time, high school students should have just finished class. Shouldn’t you be wearing a school uniform?" Pei Qian said with a smile.

After getting a clear look at Jiang Ruotang, Pei Qian found him right up his alley. His clean, refreshing aura was a stark contrast to those who came crawling to him for fame and fortune, giving Pei Qian an urge to protect and claim.

Even if it was an act, it was a masterful one—Pei Qian was totally buying it.

Jiang Ruotang was starting to get angry. Was there something about his face that made him look like he was on the make? Did Pei Qian actually think he was playing coy?

If he wasn’t mistaken, the man was about to start making his move.

Pei Qian took out his business card from his pocket and handed it to him, clearly confident in both his wealth and appearance.

The sad part was, Jiang Ruotang had seen what he would look like ten years later with a beer belly—not attractive at all.

"Meeting here must be fate. How about I treat you to dinner and then take you back to school?" He flashed a gentle smile.

Jiang Ruotang didn’t take the card. Meanwhile, the clerk was glaring at him, as if ready to enter a bidding war over a patron.

Just then, a strong hand gripped his wrist, pulling him into an embrace before shielding him from behind. A familiar, tall figure stepped in front of him, his voice cold and commanding.

"Sir, is there something you need from my classmate?"

It was Lu Guifan!

It finally dawned on him that the store’s floor-to-ceiling windows faced the subway exit. Lu Guifan must have spotted someone coming onto him the moment he stepped out.

Pei Qian was momentarily stunned.

The young man in black-framed glasses before him, though youthful, carried an aura that wasn't to be trifled with. His scrutinizing gaze weighed heavy with pressure, as if looking at something that needed to be disposed of.

Then, Pei Qian noticed the backpack on his shoulders and the unmistakable high school uniform beneath his coat.

Pei Qian let out a mental sigh. For a second, he’d thought he was dealing with someone important—but high school students were definitely hands-off.

He quickly forced a smile and teased, glancing at Jiang Ruotang peering over his shoulder: "Oh, so you were waiting for your little boyfriend? My apologies for interrupting."

The word "boyfriend" hit Lu Guifan like a jolt.

Before he could react, Jiang Ruotang shot back coldly, "He’s my class monitor! Speaking of which, weren’t you about to give me your business card? Hand it over. I’ll have my teacher call you."

With Lu Guifan by his side, Jiang Ruotang transformed into a cocked pistol, ready to fire.

Seeing Jiang Ruotang’s hand reaching out from behind Lu Guifan, Pei Qian realized his mistake and quickly pocketed the card.

Lu Guifan instinctively shifted, one arm blocking the man while the other pulled Jiang Ruotang close, tucking him against his chest and cutting off all contact with Pei Qian.

This was Pei Qian’s first time going up against someone so much younger, but Lu Guifan’s presence made him suspect the boy came from a powerful background. It was best not to provoke him.

Pei Qian held up his hands. "My apologies, it was a misunderstanding."

Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to the sofa, placed his laptop back on his knees, and made a show of working.

Jiang Ruotang didn’t hold back either, saying just loud enough to be heard, "Keep acting like a big shot, and lightning will strike you!"

Pei Qian’s thick skin acted unfazed, but the sales associate, long tired of his pretentious attitude—always critiquing outfits he knew nothing about—secretly considered Jiang Ruotang his personal hero.

"Let’s go," Lu Guifan said, guiding Jiang Ruotang out by the shoulder.

Even after walking a good distance, Jiang Ruotang was still seething.

Meanwhile, Lu Guifan was shaken by the thought: What if he’d arrived a little later? Would Jiang Ruotang have been taken away?

But deep down, he knew Jiang Ruotang was like a little hedgehog—soft and trusting with those he knew, but quick to raise his spines against anyone with ill intentions.

Yet, the mere idea of someone even looking at Jiang Ruotang made Lu Guifan’s throat tighten with discomfort, as if something were lodged there.