Again

Cen Xia's bedroom could hardly be called tidy.

The clothes he had just changed out of lay scattered across the bed. He Wangsheng had seen him wearing that gray sweatshirt only two hours ago, and he still remembered the print on its chest. He had always had a good memory.

The floor was clean, and it was clear that it had been swept not long ago. The desk was a mess, with books for different subjects piled together in disarray. He could even picture their owner frantically searching through that sea of books for the one he wanted.

The dorm rooms throughout the school were furnished to the same specifications, but little details revealed their occupants' vastly different lifestyles. Some put anime or celebrity posters on the walls or set out ornaments to soften the dorms' austere décor, while others kept plants on their balconies. After all, they would be living here for three years, so naturally they wanted to make themselves comfortable.

Cen Xia, however, had added nothing personal to his bedroom. Aside from the bedsheets, the clothes in the wardrobe, and the books on the desk, everything remained untouched, as though the room could be restored to its original state at the press of a button.

While He Wangsheng surveyed the room, Cen Xia leaned against the doorframe and watched him.

More specifically, he was looking at the school uniform He Wangsheng wore. Kanlitel's uniform had a tailored fit and a restrained, gentlemanly style. Few people could truly carry it off. Of those Cen Xia had seen, only a handful had ever made it look good.

It was far too demanding of a person's proportions and bearing.

Take Shen Zhong, for example. When he wore the uniform, he ditched the matching shirt for a white short-sleeved T-shirt. The uniform strained tightly across his chest, and he always wore it open. With the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked straight out of a hot-blooded high school drama. Handsome, yes, but he had also ruined the uniform's original style.

Cen Xia had good enough proportions, but even on him, the uniform lacked a certain something.

He Wangsheng was different. To Cen Xia, he seemed to have become one with the clothes. They suited him perfectly: refined without being ostentatious, restrained without being aloof.

No wonder he had the most fans on the forum.

As Cen Xia was thinking this, He Wangsheng finished checking the bedroom and turned to face him. The pen and paper he had been holding all along finally came into use.

"Sorry, I have a few routine questions."

Cen Xia said he understood.

Once He Wangsheng had finished asking all the questions, Cen Xia thought he was leaving. To be polite, he even made a point of seeing him to the door.

But He Wangsheng showed no intention of leaving.

He hadn't volunteered to inspect the dorms today solely for the inspection. After going back, he had spent a long time wondering why Cen Xia was unwilling to agree to be his model.

He had gone over it again and again, and before coming here, he had figured it out: the terms he had offered weren't enticing enough.

"Sorry to bring this up again, even though you made your refusal clear this morning." He Wangsheng seemed genuinely sorry to trouble him a second time. His gaze was gentle but firm, showing nothing but sincerity. "But I've thought it over, and I still want to try once more-would you be willing to model for my painting?"

Before Cen Xia could speak, he said, "Please don't rush to refuse me."

"If you're willing to be my model, I can grant you one request, whatever it may be." His voice was already low and mellow, and as he spoke the second half of the sentence, his tone slowed slightly. The words spilled out with a seductive allure.

Cen Xia felt a tingling in his ears and raised a hand to rub them, but his face remained cold as frost, showing not the slightest sign of relenting. "There's no way I'm being your model." Give up on it!

Perhaps because he had already been rejected once, He Wangsheng could even keep the expression on his face from cracking when he was refused again, but he truly couldn't understand why.

A trace of genuine bewilderment entered his eyes. "Why?"

Were the terms I offered still not good enough?

He believed no one could refuse the chance to ask anything of him, yet the person before him hadn't hesitated in the slightest.

If Cen Xia had hesitated for even two seconds, He Wangsheng wouldn't have been so confused and bewildered, or even begun to doubt himself.

Cen Xia's face was cold. "There's no way I'm taking my clothes off!" Not even if I die. I don't want to be put in an art museum for anyone and everyone to comment on!

He Wangsheng wondered if he had misheard. His eyes widened slightly, and the gentleness he deliberately maintained in everyday life fell away, revealing a look of genuine, undisguised shock.

"Take your clothes off? Why would you need to do that?"

"Huh? Don't you have to take your clothes off to model?" Cen Xia stared blankly back at him.

Wasn't that how it worked? That was how it happened in all the TV dramas I'd seen...

Looking at the sincerity in his eyes, He Wangsheng stood there in silence for a long time.

What kind of ridiculous reason was that? Once He Wangsheng came to his senses, an overwhelming sense of absurdity rose in his heart.

He had imagined countless possibilities, but he had never expected the real cause to be such a laughable reason.

So all the time I spent before this was for nothing?

For the first time, He Wangsheng felt helpless.

Helpless in the face of Cen Xia himself.

"Not everyone... has to... take their clothes off." He Wangsheng could barely maintain his expression.

Realizing he had misunderstood, Cen Xia nodded like a chick pecking at rice. "Oh, oh."

"Then can you be my model now?" he asked for the third time.

He Wangsheng had never been so patient before. Never.

But if it was for his muse, he thought, he could endure it.

He had forgotten how long it had been since he last picked up a paintbrush, but when he saw this person at the archery range, his very soul had trembled at the sight.

He couldn't wait to use his brush and paints to build up an image of his muse.

He had already planned the composition in his head, decided on the pose, the brushstrokes, the color palette... He had thought of everything.

All that remained was to put brush to canvas, just one step away.

But Cen Xia didn't even think about it. "No."

No. He. Couldn't.

In an instant, the fantasy scattered, and He Wangsheng came back to himself in a daze.

His muse was unwilling to descend into the mortal world beneath his brush.

"Why?"

"I don't want to be your model. I don't want to, no matter what you offer, so don't come asking me again."

Word by word, Cen Xia made himself perfectly clear.

He didn't know why He Wangsheng was so persistent, so he decided to be blunt. Judging by He Wangsheng's character, he probably wouldn't hold a grudge and take revenge over this... right?

As he had expected, there was no sign of shame or anger on He Wangsheng's face after the rejection. His tone was as warm and kind as ever. "I was being presumptuous."

His attitude made Cen Xia feel that what he had just said was a little too harsh. Embarrassed, he lowered his head and coughed lightly twice.

"Ahem, it's all right."

The instant he lowered his head, a chill entered He Wangsheng's eyes. Spring turned to winter in a second.

"If you change your mind later, you can come find me."

That was what he said to Cen Xia before leaving.

Cen Xia brushed him off. "Okay, okay."

He would never change his mind.

The door closed.

He Wangsheng stood where he was, his eyelids lowering gently to conceal the dark emotions churning in his eyes.

Light shone down from overhead, leaving half his face in shadow.

One half was bathed in cold white light, the other hidden in thick darkness.

Like the dilapidated scarecrow in the legend, coveting the flesh and bones of the person behind the door.

It wandered deep into the night, mimicking the cries of an infant.

It always waited in the shadow of the door. As soon as the person inside took pity and answered its cries, it would break in, seize them by the neck, and devour their brain. In the end, all that remained was a corpse with its limbs intact and its skull hollow.

After a long time, he slowly moved his facial muscles, pulling his lips into a chilling smile.

You'll come back to me.

I promise.

(My stockpile of chapters has already run out, and I've had a cold these past two days. I get sleepy as soon as I start writing. Because the outline is rather rough, there are some parts I'm not very satisfied with, but there's nothing I can do; I can't revise them.

I still want to thank everyone for reading. Before this week, there was only one reader in my backend and me, making our way toward each other. This book still has many shortcomings, so thank you for being understanding and reading this far. Thank you so very much!!!)