Fell Deeply In Love With My Ex-Husband's Fiancé - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: The Breakup: “That’s not distress; it’s a display of your love for me.”

In the dead of winter, Northern natives would sometimes cut a hole in the frozen lake surface and jump into the icy water for a “baptism.” However, if one lost their sense of direction, unable to find the exit beneath the sunless, gloomy ice, they would despairingly drown in the extreme cold.

Lu Feiran was precisely beneath that layer of ice, and the single narrow opening in the ice surface had been sealed shut.

Following Lance’s guidance, he adjusted his breathing rhythm. The numbness in his limbs faded, his heart rate slowed, and the rapid, shallow breathing gradually became slower. The white haze before Lu Feiran’s eyes dissipated, and Lance’s face clearly emerged in his sight.

Lance gently rubbed the top of Lu Feiran’s head, “That’s not distress; it’s a display of your love for me.”

Listing yet another supposed proof of being loved, Lance smiled with satisfaction.

Having finally stabilized, Lu Feiran dared not take deep breaths again. The after-effects of hyperventilation came quickly. All strength was drained from his body, and Lu Feiran sank limply to the floor.

His cheek descended slowly towards the ground, meeting not the hard floor but the soft cashmere rug. He gripped the rug’s fibers, pressed his other hand to his stomach, and closed his eyes, shutting out Lance’s gaze.

Lance noted Lu Feiran’s gesture of massaging his stomach. He stood up and quickly returned with a pill and warm water, setting them aside.

Lance skillfully prepared the medication, splitting the rather large oval pill into two smaller, easier-to-swallow halves. He tucked them into Lu Feiran’s mouth, slightly raised his chin, and helped him drink the water to swallow the medicine.

A small amount of water overflowed from the corner of his mouth. Lance wiped it away with his thumb, then poked Lu Feiran’s cheek with his bent index finger, his expression indulgent and helpless: “Do you remember the day you confessed to me? You said you loved me, that I was unique. So, don’t change your mind. Continue to love me, Ranran.”

Lu Feiran covered his ears. The chilling, biting truth made it impossible for him to bear any more.

It turned out that from the moment he first met Lance, his embarrassment and distress had been observed by Lance, only for Lance’s exquisite disguise to gradually make him unaware of the differences between them.

His revenge was also clumsy and crude. Lance saw through his childish tricks immediately.

The cycle of revenge was only turning back onto himself.

He had thought that by giving Lance a chance, making him experience the pain of deceit, and forcing him to admit his mistake, everything would return to normal. The numerous steps he left for Lance to back down became his own bottomless abyss. One wrong step and the only outcome was utter destruction.

Lu Feiran thought, If I had firmly broken up earlier, instead of fruitlessly trying to investigate the reasons behind it, wouldn’t I have avoided all this pain?

It turned out he had only been running in place. He still hadn’t escaped the fate of being used as a tool.

Lu Feiran’s eyes, soaked with tears, were cleaner than the night sky after an autumn rain. Even his long eyelashes were wet with tears, clustering together, which made Lance’s heart ache with a strange desire.

“Rested enough?” Lance wrapped his arms around Lu Feiran’s waist, helping him use his strength to stand up. “Come look at this painting. You’ll like it.”

A large canvas, about two meters long and one meter wide, stood covered by a dust sheet in the center of the studio.

Lu Feiran felt utterly desolate and had no interest in the painting. However, he couldn’t leave. Lance was holding him tightly from behind, propelling him toward the painting like a puppet.

Lance grasped his right hand, his larger hand guiding Lu Feiran to rest his fingers on the top of the dust sheet.

Lu Feiran struggled with his eyes closed, but his fingers, against his will, tightened and decisively pulled away the dust sheet as Lance wished. A painting he had never seen before appeared in Lu Feiran’s view.

He was too shocked to remember to close his eyes.

The painting depicted a slender man with his back turned. His upper body was bare, and loose pajama pants hung precariously on his hips. A thin wool blanket was draped across his waist but failed to cover his naked back, failing to conceal the smooth, elegant curve of his waist.

His waist was slim, his shoulder blades faintly outlined, his neck long, and his long, silky black hair rested on his shoulder, emphasizing the whiteness of his back, tempting one to pause and linger on the sight.

This was a man who looked beautiful yet fragile, like a gently flowing stream, tempting to touch.

Lu Feiran’s eyelashes fluttered. He recognized himself instantly.

In his field of vision, a cluster of red plums of varying shades spread across the center of his white back.

He knew those were not flower petals at all, but hickeys.

Lance gazed at the painting obsessively, guiding Lu Feiran’s fingers to trace the figure in the painting: “Are you satisfied with this painting? How does it compare to Jin Zhan’s?”

This was an oil painting. It had to be admitted that the colors were incredibly bold and vivid. Blue and purple tones covered the skin, the flesh tone emerging from the cool palette. Bright green was used in several places on the vibrant, intense hickeys, alongside red.

It possessed a strong personal characteristic, just like Lance himself—cold and warm contradictions intertwined.

If anyone else were present, they might praise Lance as a genius for improving so rapidly in such a short time.

But Lu Feiran wasn’t interested. He only knew that Lance had picked up a paintbrush he hadn’t touched in twenty years and had been practicing day and night during this time, just to surpass Jin Zhan.

Lance was hostile toward Jin Zhan.

After a long silence, Lance urged Lu Feiran to answer again.

Lu Feiran’s voice was frighteningly hoarse: “I don’t know.”

Lance hugged Lu Feiran tighter, his voice deepening, speaking slowly and deliberately: “Jin Zhan doesn’t understand you. He thought the hickeys on you were something to be afraid of being seen, and he worried you were unwilling. He doesn’t know that the marks on your body were left by the person you love most. His painting is poor.”

The long sentence transformed into a buzzing noise before it reached Lu Feiran’s inner ear, making it unclear, and he didn’t want to listen anyway.

After Lance finished speaking, Lu Feiran felt even more exhausted. He looked up at Lance’s chin, his voice faint: “What exactly do you want?”

Lance paused. Perhaps in his plan, tonight was supposed to be a night where he would receive praise.

Things didn’t go as planned, but he wasn’t annoyed. He bent down and briefly pressed his face against Lu Feiran’s, saying, “Ranran, will you model for me tonight?”

Lu Feiran knew Lance’s behavior wasn’t jealousy. It was most likely inexplicable possessiveness at work. His “toy” had modeled for Jin Zhan, so he had taken a dislike to Jin Zhan and now demanded that Lu Feiran compensate him by modeling for him in the same way.

Lu Feiran gave Lance a cold look. He heard the sound of a strong wind whistling from his own throat. His voice was too hoarse, so he gave up on speaking. He simply and silently unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, exposing his chest and abdomen to the air. Lance’s hands loosened their grip.

He took the opportunity to pull off his shirt. The smooth skin covered in purplish hickeys was exposed to Lance’s view. It was difficult to remove the sleeve from his left arm. He looked at Lance, raising his eyes with a pitiful expression.

With the shirt removed, Lu Feiran then decisively unbuckled the waist button of his jeans. The belt had long been pulled away by Lance. The waistband, a size too large, hung loosely on his waist, making it very easy to remove.

Within minutes, Lu Feiran had no fabric left on his body.

He turned around, presenting himself openly to Lance, his eyes dark and empty. He asked in a low voice, “What pose do you want?”

Watching Lu Feiran’s series of actions, all of Lance’s enthusiasm was extinguished.

He was intimately familiar with the beautiful body before him, but it carried an eerie paleness from head to toe. His shoulders weren’t relaxed; they were slightly drawn inward, adopting a defensive posture.

Defensive against whom? Against him?

Lance’s fingers twitched anxiously. He grabbed the blanket from the small sofa and wrapped Lu Feiran in it.

Something was wrong again.

His brain, like a high-speed, precise instrument, simulated various solutions but couldn’t select a feasible one. Lance asked a simple question: “Ranran, what’s wrong?”

Lu Feiran shivered, looking at the blanket on him in confusion: “Didn’t you want to paint me?”

Lu Feiran’s state was completely different from ten minutes ago. Even in the car, Lu Feiran had an inexhaustible energy, almost kicking his seat flying. Now, he was visibly withered.

Lance reached out and saw his fingers still twitching. He clenched his fist and put it behind his back.

His sixth sense was sounding a frantic warning. In an instant, the whole world changed color.

Lu Feiran attempted to remove the blanket, only exposing his pale shoulders before Lance pulled it back up, covering him completely.

“We can paint tomorrow,” Lance conceded first.

Lu Feiran looked up, his eyes dim, devoid of light. He tilted his head in confusion: “Why?”

Lance managed a strained smile: “We can paint tomorrow, the day after, or the day after that.”

Lu Feiran also smiled. He wanted to say, We don’t have a tomorrow, the day after, or the day after that. But he smiled and changed his words: “Can you stop being bothered by Jin Zhan? He’s my friend, a little painter who wants to pursue his dream. I regret giving up playing the violin before, so I want to support Jin Zhan. Don’t target him. He really is my good friend.”

Although his relationship with Lance had completely collapsed, Lu Feiran held onto one last shred of hope: that Lance would promise him this and maintain his previous demeanor of letting bygones be bygones regarding Jin Zhan.

He just didn’t know… if Lance would still keep his promise after he left.

Lance watched Lu Feiran’s expression soften like melting ice, making his own face turn even gloomier and uglier.

It was Jin Zhan again. Lu Feiran hadn’t given him a single pleasant look today, yet he smiled because of Jin Zhan.

Lance found it difficult to control his jealousy toward Jin Zhan. He knew very well that Jin Zhan was different from Zhou Zihua.

Zhou Zihua was Lu Feiran’s childhood friend, with a twenty-year foundation of pure friendship. But what was Jin Zhan? He was Lu Feiran’s husband’s lover. And Lu Feiran was this kind to his husband’s lover?

Ah, right. Lu Feiran had initially mistaken his identity too.

Lu Feiran’s love was perhaps too inclusive. He could tolerate one person with such an identity, two… maybe there would be more!

Lu Feiran was too tired to mediate, but if Lance insisted on targeting Jin Zhan, he would do everything in his power to protect him.

The whereabouts of Ms. Du in Germany, which Zhou Zihua and his cousin Jiang Li couldn’t find no matter how hard they tried, were miraculously gathered within a week. Lu Feiran had once thought it was a turn of luck, but now it seemed Lance must have been behind it.

He knew how devastating those pieces of evidence could be to Jin Zhan. Making Jin Zhan unlucky was easier than slaughtering a sheep.

Lance’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He gave Lu Feiran a sharp look, his lips tightly drawn, and made a difficult commitment: “Fine.”

The smile was ephemeral, fleeting.

Lu Feiran left Lance behind in silence. He entered the walk-in closet in the guest room, changed into an easy-to-remove sweatshirt and casual pants, grabbed his large-capacity hiking backpack, and packed his laptop and the materials related to Tuowei.

Oh, and the divorce certificate.

It was quite ironic. The divorce certificate had been sitting in the nightstand of the guest room. Lu Feiran himself had almost forgotten about it, and Lance had never discovered it either.

He wondered if Lance still knew he was divorced.

Lance had been very busy lately and had been thoroughly tormented by him. He probably hadn’t had the energy to notice anything else.

Lu Feiran tucked the bright red certificate into the inner layer of his backpack, where he found a folded sketch paper lying there.

The scene from Wuxia Mountain that night resurfaced, becoming a dagger wrapped in honey, stabbing straight at him.

Lu Feiran wanted to take it out and throw it away, but suddenly heard footsteps behind him. He only managed to shove the divorce certificate deeper inside.

A flash of red passed by. Lance didn’t clearly see what it was. All he saw was Lu Feiran packing his belongings as if to leave, and his blood felt like it was draining away.

A sentence tumbled around in his mouth, generating the smell of gunpowder.

Isn’t he concerned about Jin Zhan? If I threaten him with Jin Zhan, will he stay?

“Where are you going?” Lance asked, knowing the answer.