Chapter 2812: The Stand‑In Was Forcibly Taken by the Bandit

Ling Gun Gun bounced out, also watching beside Gu Fanghe with great interest, but after a while it bounced back onto Jin Chen's shoulder, poking his cheek.

【Host, something seems… off.】

Jin Chen responded lazily, 【Huh?】

Ling Gun Gun muttered softly, 【What the Main God drew… doesn't look much like you now.】

Jin Chen's eyes narrowed slightly.

He set down his tea cup, rose, and walked toward the drafting table.

Gu Fanghe was immersed in his brushwork; seeing him approach, he looked up and smiled, "What's wrong? Did you get tired from sitting?"

Jin Chen gazed at the spread-out xuan paper.

The picture was more than half done—moonlight, pool reflection, a person leaning against the stone.

Jin Chen only looked at the face of the person in the painting; it resembled his current appearance, yet it was not him.

Jin Chen: "……"

His heart ached, and he felt angry.

"Gu Fanghe," Jin Chen said, lifting his chin lightly, his tone ambiguous yet dangerous, "Who are you painting?"

"Look closely—how much does the person in this portrait resemble me?"

Except for moments of lovestruck distraction and absentmindedness, Jin Chen rarely showed such a dangerous aura.

Gu Fanghe was stunned by the question, then looked again at the paper.

Just moments ago, he had been completely focused, feeling that what he drew was the Jin Chen he longed for, the young master who filled his heart.

Now, questioned like this by Jin Chen, he focused and examined closely, and a strange dazed feeling suddenly rose in his heart.

It was like him, yet not.

The figure's spirit and bearing were unmistakably Jin Chen, yet subtly off, making him wonder if the moonlight had blurred his vision.

"It's you…" Gu Fanghe frowned, looking at Jin Chen.

He couldn't help raising his hand to lightly touch Jin Chen's cheek; the faint dazed feeling faded. "It's you."

Jin Chen was annoyed, turned his head to avoid the hand, refused to let him touch, stepped back half a pace, arms crossed, eyes cold.

"Do you think, Chief, that I don't even know what I look like?"

Those words were already heavy enough.

Gu Fanghe's hand froze midair, seeing Jin Chen's displeased expression; he quickly put down his brush, went around the table, and reached to pull Jin Chen's hand.

"Young master, don't be angry… perhaps it's because I haven't held a brush in a while, my hand is clumsy, and the picture turned out wrong… let me fix it, let me repaint, okay?"

Jin Chen pulled the xuan paper out from under the weight.

"Jin Chen…" Gu Fanghe's heart tightened; he wanted to stop him, but his outstretched hand paused.

He had never felt so flustered; clearly he was trying to win Jin Chen's favor, yet he had managed to make things worse.

Jin Chen tore the painting in half down the middle; the fragments fell.

Gu Fanghe pulled Jin Chen's hand, kissed the back of it, then rubbed his lips against the fingertips, "It's my fault, I ruined the painting."

He really was beginning to doubt himself.

While painting just now, he clearly felt that what he drew was exactly what he longed for; could it really be that his skill has deteriorated to the point he can't even depict his beloved's appearance accurately?

Now even coaxing someone has lost its confidence.

Jin Chen let him hold his hand, eyes downcast; after a while he lifted his gaze, walked to the chair behind the drafting table, and sat down.

He turned slightly, patted his own thigh, signaling Gu Fanghe.

Gu Fanghe hesitated, then obeyed and sat on Jin Chen's lap.

"Repaint." Jin Chen spoke briefly, wrapped his arm around Gu Fanghe's waist, drew him closer into his embrace, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Gu Fanghe thought this meant he'd been appeased; a great weight lifted from his heart, he quickly agreed, reached for a fresh sheet of xuan paper, spread it out, picked up his brush, steadied himself, and prepared to start anew.

But just as he lifted the brush, dipped it in ink, and before it touched the paper, he felt a warm sensation on the side of his neck.

Jin Chen's lips pressed against him, biting his earlobe, his teeth grinding gently.

Gu Fanghe's wrist trembled, and a tiny ink dot fell from the brush tip onto the xuan paper.

"Focus on the painting." Jin Chen's voice whispered by his ear, hot breath streaming into his ear.

At the same time, his fingertips slipped under the collar, tracing over the honey‑colored chest, caressing the firm muscles, lightly rubbing and pinching, barely grazing.

Gu Fanghe's breathing tightened; the hand that once could draw a bow and hit a target a hundred paces away now merely held a light brush, yet a few teasing touches from the person in his arms threw him into disarray.

He bit his tongue, trying to focus, but the endless, tormenting kisses challenged his will at every point.

The brush tip wandered, laying down broken, intermittent lines.

Under the moonlight, on the paper, Gu Fanghe struggled to keep his brush pose, trying to depict the image of the person in his heart.

Inside his clothing, Jin Chen's fingertips did not cease, alternating light and heavy, the kisses on his earlobe also fine and fragmentary.

Inside and out, it was all teasing, all temptation, all intimacy that made the heart tremble.

This painting was especially difficult to execute, and ambiguity grew thickly.

When the final stroke was finished, Gu Fanghe's breath was in disarray, and the figure in the painting finally became clear.

He flung the brush aside; the fine jade brush handle rolled onto the table, which he ignored, turned sideways, and kissed him.

This time Jin Chen did not dodge; he let him kiss, his fingertips lightly tracing circles.

After the kiss paused, Gu Fanghe breathed lightly.

Jin Chen's fingertip tapped Gu Fanghe's nose, then slid to his lips and pressed lightly.

"Finished painting?" he asked.

"Mm." Gu Fanghe caught his hand, placed it by his lips and kissed it again, glanced at the pile of torn paper on the floor, still a little uneasy, "Does this one look right?"

Jin Chen prepared to look at the painting, but first caught sight of the torn fragments on the ground.

Moonlight slanted down, and on a relatively large scrap of paper, it happened to be the eyes of the person in the painting.

Because the paper was torn and the ink had soaked in, the pupils that should have been darkly inked, under the moonlight's diffusion, actually revealed a faint moon‑blue sheen.

How could these eyes…

Jin Chen's pupils flickered, and he suddenly understood something.

This portrait resembles neither his current self nor very much the Ruan Shutong from the original plot.

Could it be that the painting shows his original appearance? Only the details are blurred, and because he had assumed it didn't look like him, he failed to recognize it at once.

But… how could Gu Fanghe remember?

He froze for a moment, feeling somewhat startled.