Chapter 2171: You Are My Only Color 06

When Wen Jin stepped into the classroom, Wu You shrank in the corner of the last row, his fingers gripping the edge of the sketchbook so tightly his knuckles turned white.

In his peripheral vision he caught Wen Jin's profile, and a cold sweat instantly broke out across his back.

The ferocious slash on Gu Xi's arm seemed to split open again before his eyes, the blood‑scented memory making his throat tighten.

How could anyone be so ruthless?

Wen Jin's gaze swept across the classroom and landed directly on Jin Chen.

The youth was bent over his sketchbook, his bangs falling to cover his eyes, and his light‑colored clothing made his skin look warm and smooth.

As if sensing the gaze, Jin Chen suddenly lifted his head; the moment their eyes met, a faint smile curled his lips, like melting spring snow, dispelling the classroom's stuffiness for no reason.

"Last week's homework…" Wen Jin withdrew his gaze and began lecturing.

While lecturing, Jin Chen listened absentmindedly, his gaze drifting to Wu You's back as he pondered.

Half the class had passed.

Wen Jin's pen tapped the podium; the metallic‑wooden clink made Wu You shudder all over. "Class Three, number 24, explain the difference between Impressionism and Post‑Impressionism."

Wu You froze in place.

Because of fear, he hardly dared to look Wen Jin in the eye; he could even hear his own teeth chattering, yet his throat felt frozen and he could make no sound.

Wen Jin leaned against the podium, chuckled lightly, and the eyes behind his lenses curved into a dangerous arc: "What's wrong with this student?"

Wu You: "……"

It was deliberate; Wen Jin was definitely doing it on purpose!

Around them rose a rustle of snickers; Wu You couldn't breathe, his mind filled with the image of Gu Xi's injury, and he didn't dare lift his head.

Jin Chen propped his chin, watching the podium, admiring his wife's beauty, as if this farce had nothing to do with him.

Just as the class‑end bell rang, Yun Liu lunged onto Jin Chen's desk, waving a pink‑blue envelope: "Brother Chen, another one! A student from the neighboring department asked me to pass it along!!"

Zhao Pei snatched the love letter and, affecting a fake voice, read: "Classmate Jin Chen, your focus when mixing colors on the drawing board is like touching the melody of light..."

"Tsk tsk, as expected of a music major, your confession is so abstract!"

Shen Qiu hooked an arm around Jin Chen's shoulders, smirking: "Brother Chen, check the signature! He's the music department's campus heartthrob! I heard he just turned down the drama club president last month... you gotta go see him!"

Amid the clamor, Jin Chen slapped his sketchbook onto Shen Qiu's head.

"Don't want to look? If you want to go, go yourself."

Dappled sunlight filtered through the glass window, gilding his hair tips; his whole person seemed coated in a halo of light.

On the podium, Wen Jin leisurely organized his lesson plans.

Hearing the horseplay, the tip of his pen suddenly gouged the paper, spreading a large blot of ink, and he narrowed his eyes slightly.

That bow‑tied envelope and the laughing crowd around it were glaringly offensive in his black‑white‑gray view.

His sole source of color had been coveted by others.

That's not good at all.

Jin Chen suddenly received a message; Wen Jin, who had just left the classroom, told him to go to the Art Building and attached the detailed studio address.

He was speechless for half a second.

Since we're meeting, why didn't you come find me to walk together just now!

…… Forget it, the fickle Blackening Value is understandable.

After bidding farewell to his complaining roommates who couldn't share a meal, Jin Chen arrived at the Art Building.

As the donor of this building, Wen Jin has a dedicated studio here.

As Jin Chen pushed open the door, Wen Jin stood with his back to him before the floor‑to‑ceiling window, painting.

The setting sun gilded the man's outline in dark gold; his black shirt clung to an overly slender waist, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the ridge of his wrist bones arcing like finely carved jade.

"Professor."

Jin Chen naturally turned his gaze to the canvas, slightly raising his brow.

The painting's color use is overly bold; the facial features are distorted, with crimson and ink‑black as the dominant hues, both oppressive and avant‑garde.

It's at the level where it could be slapped straight onto a horror movie poster.

Seeing Wen Jin look over, Jin Chen then approached fully, lifting his brows and eyes lightly, his demeanor cool and clear.

As if he were truly a diligent student come to discuss aesthetics with the professor.

At this moment, Jin Chen had lost the earlier ambiguity from the private room; looking at him now, gentle and polite, who could believe that just days ago he'd been asking in that same room whether he wanted to be kept?

Jin Chen's provocation succeeded; Wen Jin inexplicably felt a surge of destructive desire.

He didn't want to see Jin Chen use such an outstanding, handsome visage to make a bland, tasteless expression.

Wen Jin lowered his eyes to the paint scraper in his hand, remembering it was red.

He always acted on impulse, giving Jin Chen no preparation; as his gaze swept over the boy's pale neck, he suddenly reached out and hauled him to the easel.

Jin Chen truly had no guard; he staggered half a step and bumped into the wooden stand.

The cold metal scraper pressed against his collarbone; Jin Chen oddly lowered his gaze, seeing vermilion paint flow along the blade and slowly stain his skin.

Wen Jin lowered his eyes, his breath brushing the boy's ear: "Don't move."

"What kind of new body‑painting class is this?"

Jin Chen's Adam's apple rolled; he could feel the temperature of the thin, elongated knuckles pressing against his collarbone.

The scraper suddenly bore down hard into the collarbone's depression, forceful enough to hurt, eliciting a muffled groan from Jin Chen.

Wen Jin smeared away the overflowing red trace with his thumb, finally revealing today's first unrestrained smile.

"Now you can see it." He stared at that vivid vermilion slash, like a traveler trekking the desert fixing his gaze on an oasis, brimming with possessive desire.

"Very beautiful."

Jin Chen: "……"

He also didn't know what brand of paint it was, or whether it would wash off.

Jin Chen lowered his head and touched his collarbone; the pad of his finger stained vermilion, and he raised his hand to smear it under Wen Jin's ear.

"Very pretty." Jin Chen also returned the compliment; the youthful, spirited provocation gave a strong sense of déjà vu, yet it wasn't overly ostentatious.

Their breaths intertwined.

Wen Jin's smile suddenly grew more intense, and deep in his eyes lurked an uncontrollable craving.

If one were to say Jin Chen is cold jade polished by an artistic aura, then he is indeed somewhat impatient, wanting to stain this jade with the world's most intense color.

"That day in the private room, you asked me if I wanted to be kept by you."

Wen Jin brought up the matter again, seemingly unable to fathom the young person's thoughts: "You art students, don't you call this sort of thing a muse?"

Jin Chen couldn't help but speak frankly: "In our academy, those who are treated as muses never end well."

That's an old tradition of the art academy.

Jin Chen suddenly grabbed Wen Jin's paint-stained wrist, guiding it to glide over his own vermilion-stained collarbone; it was clearly a flirtatious gesture, yet the faint aggression lurking in his eyes was no less than Wen Jin's.

"So what do you think, then?"

Wen Jin appeared calm and composed, but from contact with the intense color and warm skin, his excited, slightly trembling fingertips were far from tranquil.

"Do you really want to be kept by me?"

Jin Chen waited a moment, then suddenly released his hand, picked up a towel, and wiped the vermilion from his collarbone.

"No." Jin Chen replied.

【Detected Villain Heartthrob Value +7, total 7!】

Jin Chen: "……"

He's waited again this time, huh.