Chapter 2172: You Are My Only Color 07

Jin Chen turned down being kept, and did so very straightforwardly.

Wen Jin was merely teasing him along the topic, so he wasn't really angry.

But in the blink of an eye, after finishing that painting, Jin Chen was still taken away.

I don't know if Wen Jin did it on purpose, but he had a low-key luxurious car stop at the department entrance, and it was exactly the free period after school, so almost every passing student could see their Art Institute's well-known talent—not only riding in the professor's private car, but also holding an umbrella and opening the car door for the professor, which was overly ambiguous.

Wen Jin caught sight of a phone camera secretly filming in the shade with his peripheral vision, and the curve of his lips deepened.

During the drive, the scent of cedar from the car's perfume filled the air.

Wen Jin saw the youth beside him completely at ease, then suddenly leaned in and pressed his right hand, his warm breath close enough to feel extremely aggressive.

"Aren't you afraid that tomorrow will be full of the gossip you fear?"

Jin Chen calmly took out his phone, opened the chat log of the professional group, and handed it to Wen Jin: "Professor, take a look."

The group was buzzing nonstop, messages flooding in one after another:

The talent is indeed diligent, secretly studying hard again!

Is Jin Chen going to have private tutoring? I'm so jealous!

The professor is personally tutoring—this treatment is too good! Leave some scraps for us mortals, big shot!

Wen Jin glanced at the screen, his brow slightly raised: "Looks like in their eyes, you're a diligent good student."

Jin Chen put his phone away, his tone tinged with teasing: "So, Professor, you don't need to worry about ruining my reputation."

Wen Jin chuckled lightly, tapping his thigh with his fingertips, his gaze falling on Jin Chen's side profile.

In the dim cabin, his striking outline was softened by the twilight filtering in from outside, yet his brows and eyes still retained that cool aloofness.

"But you don't look like a good student right now," Wen Jin teased.

Upon hearing that, Jin Chen turned his head to look at Wen Jin.

He suddenly leaned in, his breath almost brushing Wen Jin's ear, his voice lowered with a faint teasing.

"Then what do you think I resemble, Professor?"

Wen Jin didn't dodge; instead, he slightly tilted his head, locking eyes with Jin Chen.

The youth's warm breath inexplicably made one's heart race.

Wen Jin's fingertips lightly brushed over Jin Chen's hand back, his voice low: "Like a sly cat, deliberately swaying in front of its owner, yet impossible to grasp."

Jin Chen didn't object, following his motion and lightly hooking his fingers into Wen Jin's palm.

His fingertips were slightly cool, yet the touch was so soft one didn't want to let go.

"So you want to catch me, or… indulge me?" Jin Chen asked.

Wen Jin's eyes darkened, his palm tightening slightly to completely envelop Jin Chen's fingers.

"What do you think?"

The air in the cabin suddenly turned viscous, their breaths intertwining as if even time had slowed.

Jin Chen's fingertips lightly traced Wen Jin's palm, his tone still calm but with a barely perceptible provocation.

"I think the professor seems to be enjoying it."

Wen Jin's breath hitched slightly, then he released his hand: "Indeed, no good student has as much nerve as you."

With such a bold spirit, who would dare to provoke?

But he is indeed likable.

—

Wen Jin's studio is tucked in the top floor of an old Western-style house; opening the door, a rich scent of turpentine rushes forth.

The room is spacious, its four walls covered in paintings; every frame holds bizarre, intensely striking works, like some luxurious yet dangerous cage.

And in the center of the wall facing the door is a massive painting covering the entire wall: a Distorted angel pierced through the throat by thorns, tears streaming down.

Clearly born of a death wish, yet upon closer look it also holds a mad zeal of finding life in desperation.

An old-fashioned crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, light spilling onto the easel and casting a chaotic shadow of paint tubes.

Wen Jin leans by the door, his shirt sleeves casually rolled to the elbows, revealing his slender wrist bones.

His shirt collar has two buttons undone, his collarbones faintly visible; his whole person resembles a disordered painting, exuding a kind of unbridled decadence.

His figure is tall yet thin, like a bamboo stalk swept by wind, yet his aura is fierce, his languid gaze sweeping over Jin Chen.

Jin Chen, led inside, stands in the center of the studio, his presence clean and transparent, like a white bird that has strayed into a cage.

He looked around, his gaze lingering on the wall paintings for a moment: "Professor's studio, indeed just like you……special."

Truly beautiful.

Wen Jin's fingertip traced the edge of the easel: "Finish your assignment here."

His tone was offhand, yet his eyes remained firmly fixed on Jin Chen.

Even he himself couldn't figure it out.

Clearly his original intention was to take Jin Chen to Charming Night for some fun, but he suddenly changed his mind, simply because his uncontrollable possessiveness flared again, reminding him of Huo Chu's designs that night.

Jin Chen, however, didn't mind; he walked to the easel, where the table was full of paint tubes, their multicolored labels especially glaring under the light.

This is a good opportunity, Jin Chen thought.

These past few days, after returning, he has been constantly thinking: Wen Jin's attitude when they first met was a bit too strange to simply call love at first sight.

After reviewing everything, Jin Chen arrived at a somewhat absurd conclusion.

And today happens to be the perfect chance to test it.

Jin Chen sat by the easel, using color mixing as an excuse, reached out to scatter the paint tubes, deliberately letting a few roll to the floor, then began to paint.

Wen Jin sat beside him, not wearing glasses, his gaze never shifting, his eyes on Jin Chen even showing a hint of greed.

After a while, Jin Chen turned to Wen Jin: "Professor, could you hand me another blue?"

Wen Jin's gaze fell on the paint tubes, a barely perceptible flicker flashing in his eyes.

When he paints, he often refuses to wear glasses; the assistant usually neatly arranges each color label.

But after Jin Chen just messed them up, many labels fell, and the floor is covered in black‑gray.

Wen Jin walked over, bent down to pick up a tube of paint, but the instant his fingertip touched the label he pulled his hand back and instead pushed the whole basket of new paint toward Jin Chen.

"Feel free to use them; they're all yours."

Jin Chen raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile: "Professor, you're really generous—these paints don't come cheap."

Some individual tubes are so scarce that even a thousand gold pieces can't buy them, let alone a full set.

Wen Jin neither confirmed nor denied, but his gaze never left Jin Chen's hands.

Jin Chen picked up two similar blue tubes from the basket; as the paint spun between his fingertips, Wen Jin's pupils contracted slightly, and he finally made out the colors.

The two blue tubes in Jin Chen's hand showed different shades—one was a deep‑sea cobalt blue, the other a gray‑tinged Prussian blue.

"Professor, which of these should I use for this painting?" Jin Chen held up the two tubes, his gaze locked on Wen Jin.

Wen Jin's eyes darkened instantly; he suddenly snatched one of the tubes, gripped Jin Chen's wrist, and shoved him against the easel.

The easel wobbled, several paint tubes rolled to the floor and let out a crisp sound.

"What are you probing?" Wen Jin's voice was low, laced with an ambiguous danger.

Jin Chen went with the motion, steadying his waist; his fingertips felt, through the shirt, a cool body temperature.

He tilted his head to look at Wen Jin, eyes innocent: "What probing? What are you talking about, Professor?"

Wen Jin's breath hitched; the warmth radiating from the youth's body seeped through his fingertips like a ball of soft fire, making him unable to resist drawing closer.