Chapter 199: Thomas's Painting

Chris forgot how many calls he had made to her; she didn't answer.

He had been blocked.

Just as he had once foreseen, she flew away without looking back, without the slightest reluctance.

It seemed that from then on, there was no longer any connection between the two of them, becoming strangers in two different worlds once more.

Chris, wearing a sports T-shirt, ran along the tree-lined path of Beverly Hills, running faster and faster, running with all his might; he panted heavily, each breath seeming to squeeze his lungs to their limit.

Ten-odd minutes later, he collapsed in the roadside grass; the sheepdog Charlie happily circled around him, showing no sign of fatigue.

Chris gave a self-mocking smile; he couldn't even outrun a dog, how could he possibly catch up to her?

She had vanished so suddenly; he hadn't even managed to grab the hem of her clothes.

He was dazed, not knowing how he had gotten home, as if drifting in the clouds.

"You're back?" John grabbed him, wanting to say something, but instead looked around and changed the subject: "How was the script? The movie is about to start filming."

In the past, Chris would have noticed his unease immediately, but now it took him a long while to react before he slowly said, "Mm, then let's set off."

John hesitated, "Actually, we could postpone it for a while, wait until you're ready... of course, when you work, you can forget everything, that's very good..."

Chris smiled, "Go prepare; let's head to the set."

John left; Chris let out a breath, opened his phone to check his schedule, and a news push notification popped up on the phone—"Supergirl appears at a strip club; top male dancer Ryan dances intimately with her."

His heart skipped a beat; he clicked the video. A girl sat in the center of the stage; a half-naked male dancer with his hands on her shoulders writhed wildly in front of her.

He recognized her instantly; even though she had changed her face, her eyes, her habitual movements, and her body proportions all proved it was her.

He finished watching the video, then searched for other videos related to the strip club incident, tormenting himself by clicking on them one by one.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he suddenly put down his phone, gazed blankly at the sky, and fell into deep thought.

The phone rang; it was Mom.

Clearly, Mom had also seen this news.

He didn't want to talk at that moment, so he silenced the ring and sent Mom a text message: Don't worry.

He opened his private album; it contained a photo of him and her. They were sitting under a large tree by the lake; she leaned against his chest, and he embraced her.

In the picture, she smiled slightly, her teeth not showing, the corners of her eyes slightly raised, a reserved and introverted quality unique to Eastern girls, yet in that smile, a faint melancholy still lingered.

As he looked and looked, he suddenly smiled.

The momentary anger, jealousy, and resentment he felt upon seeing the news slowly dissipated.

Why get angry? In this world, is there anyone who understands her better than him? Is there anyone closer to her soul than him? Is there anyone who understands her ideals, dreams, pain, and grievances better than him...?

No.

Even though she left that day so decisively, without looking back... he still harbored a vague feeling that the two of them were not yet finished...

Why be jealous of those irrelevant people? He knew she didn't care about them.

Let her go seek pleasure and fun, if it makes her happy.

After all, she was too tired.

$$

"Still working?"

It was past 10 PM at night when Yang Yi had just returned to her dormitory and received a text from Thomas.

"Just finished." She casually replied with a few characters.

Since the bestow the insignia ceremony, the two had not met again, only exchanging occasional text messages.

"I painted a new work; you are fortunate to be the first viewer of this piece. Will you come?" Thomas's short sentences were also filled with arrogance, but the question at the end reduced that arrogance by half.

Yang Yi thought for a moment, and her figure suddenly vanished into the night sky.

A few minutes later, she had appeared in Thomas's small courtyard in Timms Village.

It was just past 1 PM in the afternoon here; the weather in Britain was never particularly good; at this moment, the sun was hidden behind the clouds, neither cloudy nor sunny.

Miranda happily welcomed her into the house and made her tea. Yang Yi felt as familiar as if she were back in her own home and went to the cabinet to get cups and tea bags.

"Oh, I forgot; next time I come over, I'll bring a few packs of tea leaves for you. They gave them to me, but I can't tell good from bad; it's truly a waste..." Yang Yi said while chatting with Miranda as she tore open the tea bag packaging.

"How can that be a waste? As long as it goes into the stomach, it's not a waste." Miranda pushed her gently, "Go ahead; Thomas is in the studio. I'll bring the tea up to you once it's brewed."

Yang Yi went to the second-floor studio.

The door was half-closed; one push opened it.

Thomas was still the same old way; as long as he was at home, he only wore a bathrobe. Now that it was November, the temperature was below 10 degrees, so he had changed into a thick bathrobe and was busy in front of a human figure sculpture with a sculpting knife in his hand.

Yang Yi did not enter the room but stood outside quietly watching for a while.

Thomas's movements gradually slowed from smooth to stiff; finally, he threw the sculpting knife down, did not look back, and said angrily, "What are you doing standing there? Are you waiting for me to welcome you personally?"

Yang Yi smiled gently, walked in slowly, and stood beside him to look at the unfinished sculpture.

After looking for a long time, she had to admit that she didn't have much artistic talent.

"Where is that painting?" she asked.

Thomas walked to an easel by the window covered with a cloth and gestured for Yang Yi to pull off the cover.

He didn't seem like someone who liked to be mysterious... Yang Yi thought to herself as she lifted the canvas.

A painting half a person's height appeared before her; in the painting was a woman wearing a long robe and a crown. Her face was blurred, but a melancholy expression could still be faintly seen. In contrast to the unclear face, the gems and fresh flowers adorning the robes and the gold and silver jewels inlaid on the crown were depicted with extraordinary clarity and realism.

These luxurious and beautiful things pressed her body into a hunch, as if she could no longer bear such weight.

The background of the painting was divided into upper and lower parts; the upper part showed the sky collapsing and the earth cracking, monsters roaming everywhere, a scene of the apocalypse; the lower part showed the people rejoicing and living in peace and contentment.

Yang Yi looked for a long time but said nothing.

Thomas said nothing either.

The two of them acted as if nothing had happened, picked up the tea Miranda had brought, and started chatting.

"Have you been very annoyed lately? Have they come to disturb you?" Yang Yi asked.

"Thanks to you, thank you." Thomas held a saucer in one hand and a teacup in the other, his tone faint.

"I'm sorry for bringing you trouble..."

"MI5 came to see me." Thomas cut her off, "And they searched this house thoroughly."

Yang Yi fell silent for a moment, her tone flat, "It is only right."

"Why not ask what they asked? What did I promise them?" Thomas looked at her directly for the first time since she arrived, his brown-green eyes hidden behind thick lashes.

"What did you promise?" As if the first question was not worth mentioning, she automatically ignored it.

"I promised them I would do my utmost to strengthen your favor toward me and toward Britain, so that once disaster strikes Britain, you will look upon us with grace." Thomas said, gazing into her eyes the whole time, his gaze never shifting by a fraction.

"You need not promise anyone anything; I will do so anyway." Yang Yi said.

"And at the same time, tolerate their schemes and conspiracies against you?" He set down his teacup, crossed his arms, and looked at Yang Yi with a smile that was half-sarcastic.