Chapter 136 Day 27 of Transmigrating into a Vintage CEO Novel (Extra 3)

Chapter 136: The Twenty-Seventh Day of Transmigrating into a Classic CEO Novel (Extra 3)

Seven years later.

In the bedroom, morning light streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm golden glow.

An Yi stood in front of an easel, making final adjustments to a nearly completed large painting.

The canvas was filled with intense, vibrant colors—abstract yet containing a startling natural rhythm, much like the style that had gradually gained him recognition in the art world: calm restraint that concealed surging emotions and strength.

He wore a simple linen shirt, sleeves casually rolled to his elbows, revealing slender yet defined forearms.

Seven years seemed to have left little mark on him; his face remained handsome and youthful, but his ever-calm eyes now held a depth and composure tempered by time.

"Thirsty," An Yi said without turning his head.

"Coming!" A low, slightly husky voice responded immediately.

Gu Mingzhi emerged half-dressed, wearing a suit jacket and tie but with casual home shorts—clearly having just excused himself from an important video conference, his tie still impeccably tied.

He handed An Yi a glass of warm water and smiled as An Yi drank slowly.

Seven years had apparently been kind to this man, not diminishing his handsomeness in the slightest, instead giving him a more mature and steady aura.

The sharpness of his features softened slightly at home, but the way his eyes looked at An Yi still burned with the same intensity as that stormy night seven years ago, if not more so.

After drinking, An Yi continued painting.

Gu Mingzhi stood half a step away, his gaze not on the painting but almost greedily lingering on An Yi's focused profile, slightly trembling eyelashes, and the pale nape of his neck, occasionally visible as he moved.

"I've sent you the final exhibit list and location confirmation for next month's exhibition," Gu Mingzhi said softly, listing off mundane details:

"Media interview scheduled for next Thursday at 3 PM. I've turned down two unimportant ones for you. Also, I've reviewed the menu for tonight's collector dinner—removed the foie gras you don't like and replaced it with sea bass."

An Yi hummed an acknowledgment, leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Gu Mingzhi smiled and kissed him back.

Over these seven years, An Yi never signed with any gallery, instead choosing a more independent path—planning and curating exhibitions himself.

Gu Mingzhi, naturally and effortlessly took over all the roles of agent, assistant, and curator. From booking venues, coordinating printing, and liaising with media, to trivial tasks like ordering meals, he handled everything with gusto.

As he put it, "My partner's business—I can't trust anyone else to handle it."

An Yi let him do as he pleased.

An Yi's actual agent often thought, "Life is good! What a great boss!"

In the afternoon, the sun was just right.

An Yi curled up on a lounge chair, reading a book. Gu Mingzhi sat on the carpet beside him, his head resting against An Yi's knee, going through emails on his tablet.

The warm sunlight bathed them gently; this was the perfect picture of peace and contentment.

In the midst of this tranquility, the long-dormant comment section in An Yi's mind suddenly stirred without warning, and this time it was unusually noisy:

"Wow! She's back! The female lead is back!"

"Hahahahahahahaha! She brought her genius son?!"

"Of course, a genius son—a seven-year-old genius child!!"

"The description says he looks like a mini Gu Xinghui? Why?!"

"Here we go! Classic scene! The male and female leads meet!"

["Weiwei, you're finally back! Where have you been? I've missed you so much!" Hahaha, so the male lead can actually talk like a normal person!!]

["Mr. Gu, please keep your distance. We're not close." —Go, Weiwei!]

["Daddy?" —Little genius with a deadpan face.]

"Starting the angsty love drama again?"

"Preparation for the crematorium!"

"..."

An Yi barely paused in turning the page.

Meng Nianwei? The one who had a kid and ran away? She's back?

Because the author used a time skip, An Yi hadn't heard the comment section for seven years.

Now it resurfaced, meaning the plot was picking up again.

He put down the book, reached out, and gently ran his fingers through Gu Mingzhi's impeccably styled short hair.

Gu Mingzhi's body stiffened slightly, then, like a large, tamed beast, he closed his eyes in contentment, even unconsciously tilting his head to lean into the gentle touch, letting out a very soft, satisfied hum.

"What do you want for dinner?" An Yi suddenly asked.

Gu Mingzhi immediately opened his eyes and listed a series of dishes—all An Yi's favorites, ending with, "I'll cook."

"Mm." An Yi responded, his fingers continuing to comb through his hair absently.

Over the years, Gu Mingzhi's cooking improved a lot.

The sun was warm, the days long.

Other people's stories—no matter how turbulent, angsty, or dramatic—had nothing to do with him.

He had his paintings, his exhibition, and the "mad dog" beside him, always willing to be leashed, yet forever trying to claim him.

That was enough.