Chapter 2182: You Are My Only Color 17

The Wen family's old residence.

The dining room's crystal chandelier glowed with a cold light.

Wen Zhong's steak was medium-well, and as he cut it with knife and fork, a pale pink juice seeped out, while the steak before Wen Jin, even less than one-third cooked, had blood slowly seeping from the edge of the porcelain plate.

Wen Zhong keenly felt that Wen Jin being called a madman since childhood was not without reason.

"The Third Group has been lively lately." Wen Zhong leisurely cut his steak, "Li Zong suddenly resigned, Zhang Zong was transferred again, and the Board of Directors can barely keep their seats."

He lifted his gaze toward Wen Jin, his eyes sharp as a hawk's.

Wen Jin wore glasses, shoved a bloody piece of steak into his mouth, dark red juice staining his lips: "Dage, your news is truly well-informed."

He set down his knife and fork, fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop: "But aren't all these personnel changes decided by the Board of Directors?"

The tip of Wen Zhong's knife scraped the porcelain plate with a harsh sound: "Really? Then why does every change bypass Gu Xi's hands, with your assistant doing the signing?"

He stared into Wen Jin's eyes, trying to catch a hint of panic.

Wen Jin gave a light laugh, lifted his red wine and took a sip: "An assistant? Isn't that just someone to run errands for me?"

He idly swirled his wine glass.

"If Dage is interested, I can have him come help you."

Wen Zhong's face darkened slightly, and he slammed his knife and fork onto the plate.

"Wen Jin, stop pretending to be clueless. Do you think I don't know what you're scheming behind my back?"

"Those few branch offices, plus the Third Group—how long do you think you can keep it hidden?"

Wen Jin picked up a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth, the bloodstain blooming across the white fabric.

"Dage is joking—I'm just a worthless young master; what could I possibly do?"

Wen Jin's gaze was calm, as if he were commenting that today's weather was quite nice.

He handled things with ease, showing no flaw.

Wen Zhong: "Really? Then what about your little lover Jin Chen? Surely he must know many of your secrets."

Wen Jin's face shifted slightly, his finger pausing on the tabletop for a moment.

Just then, Wen Zhong's phone suddenly rang, breaking the oppressive atmosphere in the restaurant.

He frowned, picked up the call, his face instantly turning grim: "What?"

People were knocked out, and even one was taken away?

The file didn't show that Jin Chen was just a good-for-nothing art-studying young master, did it?

He hung up abruptly, his gaze shooting toward Wen Jin like a blade.

Wen Jin's hearing was still fine; he remained seated there, leisurely cutting the last piece of steak, the blood spreading across the porcelain plate.

Sensing Wen Zhong's anger, Wen Jin lifted his head, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile: "Dage, it seems your people aren't very effective."

"Take your time, Dage; when I'm in a better mood, I'll introduce you to a reliable security firm."

Wen Jin almost provocatively raised his glass toward Wen Zhong, leisurely rose and left, but his aura turned cold abruptly as he turned.

He wouldn't stay another moment in this dump.

——

Streetlights cast halos on the windshield, Wen Jin's fingertips lightly tapped the steering wheel, and his wristwatch screen pulsed with Jin Chen's location.

Jin Chen had returned to Zhuang Yuan; he was probably painting now.

The dial tone rang only twice before the call was answered.

"Are you hurt?" Wen Jin parked the car under a sycamore tree, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the genuine leather grain of the steering wheel.

"I'm fine." Jin Chen knew Wen Jin wouldn't be kept in the dark, his voice mixed with the scratching of a pencil on sketch paper.

Wen Jin glanced at the rearview mirror at his slightly furrowed brows: "The assistant said no bodyguards were dispatched today."

He suddenly laughed again, but the smile didn't reach his eyes: "When did Xiao Chen learn to fight? Even I don't know."

From the other end came the sound of an easel moving; Jin Chen seemed to be adjusting his pose: "I studied it before."

The pencil tapping the drawing board rang clear, and Jin Chen had no intention of hiding anything.

"They can't beat me; you don't need to worry, nor doubt me."

Straightforward and fervent.

Wen Jin's Adam's apple rolled; he suddenly felt the car's air grow thin: "Also good."

As long as Jin Chen isn't deceiving him elsewhere.

He loosened his tie: "So I don't have to worry about you being bullied outside."

"And you?" Jin Chen's voice suddenly drew close to the microphone, his breathing audible, laced with concern: "Did anyone bully you today?"

"Who would dare?" Wen Jin's tone rose, carrying his habitual disdain, yet also pleasure.

"I dare."

Jin Chen also laughed and immediately responded.

Wen Jin: "……"

"Yes, you really are daring—your boldness doesn't even spare my life."

Wen Jin couldn't help but utter the patron's complaint.

As the call ended, Wen Jin stared blankly at the red dot jumping on his wristwatch, and let out a soft laugh.

To him, Jin Chen seemed no longer merely his sole color.

He remembered the first time he saw Jin Chen—that splash of color was like a sharp blade, cleaving his black-and-white-gray world.

Just like the crucial tenon in a mortise-and-tenon joint, it fit perfectly into his life, letting all his fragmented pieces reassemble into wholeness.

Wen Jin started the engine, watching in the rearview mirror as the corners of his lips rose slightly.

Perhaps he ought to feel fortunate—this young man who could easily floor an entire professional bodyguard team happened to be willing to show his softest side in front of him.

The car lights illuminated the mottled tree shadows ahead, and Wen Jin suddenly felt that perhaps he should bring back a bouquet of roses tonight.

【Detected Villain Blackening Value -5, total now 92!】

——

But life isn't always peaceful and sweet.

Taking advantage of Wen Zhong's heavy suspicions, Wen Jin exerted all his strength, trying to pull him off his horse.

Jin Chen also knew Wen Jin had been busy lately, and still let himself wander about in danger.

But Wen Jin truly disregards his body; with his congenital color‑blindness, his eyes shouldn't be strained for long, yet Jin Chen simply stays up with him every night—sometimes even his advice has no effect.

Again it was the early morning hours; only the desk lamp was lit in the study.

When Jin Chen pushed the door open and entered, Wen Jin was rubbing his temples, his knuckles whitening.

"It's time to sleep." Jin Chen embraced him from behind, his palm pressing against the cool nape of his neck, "Your eyes are all red."

Wen Jin made an indistinct hum, his voice hoarse beyond words.

"You go to sleep first; don't you have class tomorrow?"

"How can you let me keep the empty room all to myself, you…"

"Jin Chen."

Jin Chen pretended not to hear, turned his chin to take off the lenses, but Wen Jin suddenly pressed down on his wrist bone, saying, "I've said it for the last time—don't interfere."

He seemed a bit neurotic again.

Jin Chen lowered his gaze to look at his pale face, then withdrew his hand, "…All right."

His tone was light as a drifting scrap of paper, and as he turned away he stirred a breeze.