After the Sang-Style Beauty Married the Disabled Villain [Transmigration] - Chapter 20

In the backstage area of the exhibition hall, the two men sat across from each other at a table, with staff helping to pour tea and serve snacks.

Yu Yanxiang was a straightforward person. After exchanging a few simple pleasantries, he went straight to the point: “President Nan, I actually have a small request. I hope you can consider it at your discretion.”

Nan Liujing nodded and made a gesture of “please” with his hand.

“The truth is, there is one piece in Mr. Shen’s art exhibition that I like very much, and I hope to acquire it for my personal collection. As for the collection fee, I leave it to your discretion.”

Nan Liujing let out a light laugh through his nose. Works that look like they were chewed on by a dog can actually attract a connoisseur; there really are plenty of strange things these days.

“I wonder which piece President Yu has taken a fancy to, and what merits you saw in it to prompt such high praise?”

Yu Yanxiang smiled faintly, his rough fingers rubbing gently, looking a bit constrained. “To tell you the truth, I once had a young son who passed away from an illness at the age of five. He loved art before he died and liked to scribble on the walls, often receiving reprimands from my ex-wife and me. It wasn’t until he left that we realized we didn’t even have a single posthumous work of his, which is a source of great regret.”

He sighed lightly. “And that piece by Mr. Shen looks exactly like the style of my late beloved son. Perhaps it’s a case of seeing the work and thinking of the person, so I would like to implore President Nan to consider it seriously. Money is the least of my concerns.”

Nan Liujing happened to be annoyed that he had nowhere to throw away this trash, so he was happy to have someone save him the trouble. He said readily, “Which work has President Yu taken a fancy to?” He was prepared to say, “I’ll have someone take it down and deliver it to you; we can waive the fee as a gesture of friendship.”

Yu Yanxiang’s expression became firm: “It is the one titled The Person I Love Most.”

Nan Liujing’s fingers moved; the polite smile behind his mask faded bit by bit.

The person I love most, huh… Uncle Li said that the person in that painting was him, Nan Liujing.

He stroked the armrest of his wheelchair lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. The “Sure” that was originally on the tip of his tongue just wouldn’t come out; it felt like a shard of glass cutting his throat as he tried to speak, forcing him to swallow it back down.

Shen Jia-Li’s works, like the man himself, had a massive talent for making people feel incredibly bad.

After what felt like half a century, Nan Liujing slowly took a deep breath and donned his polite, distant smile once more: “I’m sorry, President Yu. This is proof of Jia-Li’s growth. I don’t think he himself would be willing to part with the work. I can only say, I am very sorry.”

His words fell without a sound. After a long silence, Yu Yanxiang revealed a vague, bitter smile: “It’s alright, I understand. I was the one who was too presumptuous.”

Nan Liujing was pushed by Uncle Li to see Yu Yanxiang out. They happened to see an artist from who knows where praising the piece titled Butterfly incessantly, claiming that the work was truly eye-opening and that he had never seen such a moving work in all the world. He grabbed Shen Jia-Li’s hand and asked him how much he would sell it for.

When Shen Jia-Li heard he could make money, he pondered for a moment and slowly extended five fingers. He didn’t swindle him—fifty yuan. At least he could earn back the material costs, plus a tiny bit of labor fee.

The artist’s eyes widened, and in his excitement, he began to dig for money on the spot: “Fifty thousand is a steal for me! How about I add it up to one million for you!”

Shen Jia-Li: ?

Nan Liujing: ?

Which optical center did he get his glasses from? Tell us so we can avoid it.

Seeing that the artist was happily calling for someone to take the painting, Nan Liujing interrupted him: “I’m sorry, this is part of a private collection and is not for sale.”

The artist was stunned: “Whose… whose collection?”

Nan Liujing said in a low voice: “Mine.”

The artist left, disappointed.

He could understand Yu Yanxiang’s reasons, and he could understand the artist having poor eyesight, but Shen Lanqing also had to get involved.

“Brother, sell all these paintings to me. I love them too much. You name a price, and I’ll have Mom send the money over right now.”

When one or two people were willing to pay high prices, the herd mentality of others made them fear missing out on some priceless treasure. They began to bid on the side, one shouting one hundred thousand, another shouting eight hundred thousand directly.

The atmosphere at the scene was heated and intense; a simple stick-figure drawing by an elementary school student had been bid up to the astronomical price of five million.

Shen Jia-Li thought secretly: Once they bid enough to buy the “back garden for the afterlife,” I’ll seal the deal. It felt so wonderful, so happy it’s just a pity he didn’t know if he could go in and lie down ahead of schedule.

Watching the crowd bidding, Nan Liujing’s fingers tightened gradually. After a long while, he called Uncle Li and said coldly: “Notify the staff; the exhibition is over, close the museum immediately.”

Shen Jia-Li leaned against the car window, his mind filled with Renminbi that had grown wings and flown away. Sure enough, the villain’s hatred for the original owner is not at all low. Eight million just ran away on legs like that.

He heaved a long sigh, his mood sinking to rock bottom. Headache, toothache, throat ache—my whole body hurts.

Outside the car window, Shen Lanqing, accompanied by a displeased Nan Feiyao, kept patting the car window, smiling like a spring flower: “Brother, I’ll message you, remember to reply to me.”

Not until the car pulled away did the smile on Shen Lanqing’s face vanish instantly. Nan Feiyao finally breathed a sigh of relief. He snatched back his smiling mask and put it on, feeling highly spirited: “Lanqing, today’s date is officially starting now.”

Shen Lanqing walked straight ahead without looking back: “Go on your date yourself.”

Nan Feiyao was stunned. This was the first time he had seen Shen Lanqing show such a displeased expression; for a moment, he didn’t know what he had done wrong. “What’s wrong? Who upset you?”

Shen Lanqing stopped, balled his hands into fists, and turned around, his brows furrowed sharply: “Why did you make my brother unable to get off the stage in front of so many people? Are you bullying him?”

Nan Feiyao was incredulous: “You’re upset over this kind of thing?”

“What do you mean by ‘this kind of thing’? Is this a small matter!” Shen Lanqing’s voice suddenly rose an octave. “If President Yu hadn’t come forward to explain, do you know what my brother would have faced today! Everyone was originally planning to let the matter rest, but you insisted on adding fuel to the fire. What on earth is your intention? How has my brother offended you?”

Nan Feiyao let out a “ha” sound, thinking Shen Lanqing’s temper was truly bizarre: “Your brother can only fool simple people like you. Do you think he’s a good person? He deliberately pushed you into the water and spread malicious rumors about you online—and you’re still covering for him?”

“My brother is not that kind of person!” The furious roar attracted the attention of passersby.

“He is not that kind of person!” Shen Lanqing’s eyes turned red, and his clenched fists trembled slightly. “These are all misunderstandings. If you continue to slander him, then we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

With that, Shen Lanqing left Nan Feiyao behind and walked away with decisive steps. Nan Feiyao looked at his departing back, still unable to believe that Shen Lanqing, who had always been gentle and sensible, had actually shouted at him for the sake of a “useless degenerate.” But since he liked him, what else could he do besides coaxing him gently?

On the other side, in Nan Liujing’s car.

Shen Jia-Li leaned against the window, his face full of sorrow and grief, still thinking about his eight million.

Nan Liujing sat beside him, flipping through a finance magazine, and said listlessly: “Since your work is recognized by everyone, you must persist in your studies and strive for faster progress.”

Shen Jia-Li didn’t want to talk; his mood was depressed to the extreme. At such a time, he wanted to sleep even more.

Having not heard a response from Shen Jia-Li for a long time, Nan Liujing took a look; the person had already closed his eyes, hidden in the dim corner, making his pale skin look even more sickly.

But what was the meaning of the movement of the hand resting on his knees—the thumb and index finger slightly spread, the other three fingers folded, as if he were holding up…

An eight?

Just then, Uncle Li, driving in the front, called out softly: “Mr. Shen, we are about to pass by the market. Do you intend to buy ingredients for tonight or go straight home?”

Shen Jia-Li opened his eyes wearily, his voice so weak there was only a thread of breath left: “Buy… have to buy.”

If he didn’t rely on the “corruption money” from grocery shopping, he wouldn’t save up his eight million until the Year of the Monkey. He was afraid that before he could save enough money, he would be gone, and the villain would just roll him up in a straw mat and throw him behind the mountain, and his corpse would be dragged out by wolves for a snack.

Pain, it hurts too much…

Nan Liujing looked down and flipped through the magazine without lifting his eyes: “I’ll go with you today.”

I want to see what tricks you’re playing.

Shen Jia-Li: Let’s discuss this can you let me transmigrate again? Just transmigrate to the chapter where I’m tortured to death by the villain.