Chapter 3196: Chinese Toon Alley's Bitter Summer 39

Autumn passed amidst their busy schedules, and in the stolen moments of dating amidst the hustle.

Sometimes after Chenshu finished his afternoon work, he would detour to the library where Jin Chen was studying to pick him up, and the two would walk along a street lined with ginkgo trees for a stretch, go buy two hot coffees, sit on a park bench to finish them, then head home.

Sometimes after Jin Chen finished his evening exercises, he would also go to Chenshu's studio to stay awhile, not speaking, just sitting on the corner sofa watching Chenshu refine the details of his sculpture, each doing their own thing but aware the other was nearby—those moments were their best dates.

On the day of Beginning of Winter, the phoenix tree's leaves had all fallen, leaving only grayish branches stretching toward the sky, and Chenshu's gallery had finally finished preparations, officially opening.

The connections and reputation he had accumulated beforehand came into use; he already had a reputation abroad, and upon returning to Didu within the Xiang family's circle he was no stranger, and with his own sense of propriety in dealing with people, a considerable number of industry professionals came to show support, the flower baskets at the gallery's entrance arranged from the steps all the way to the street corner.

The street where the gallery stood was not a bustling main thoroughfare, but it boasted a tranquil environment; at the street's end was a small dessert shop, Jin Chen entered with a thermos in one hand, pushing the door open to pick up the milk tea he had ordered in advance—Chenshu had a sweet tooth, especially loving this shop's caramel milk tea, so on the day of the gallery's opening Jin Chen deliberately took a detour to buy it.

Jin Chen waited at the counter, his gaze idly sweeping the street view outside the window, when suddenly he caught a familiar name faintly amid the noisy clamor outside the door.

His gaze slightly narrowed, and he glanced sideways.

Not far from the coffee shop's door stood a middle-aged man with a cigarette between his fingers, speaking angrily into his phone: 'Just do as I say!'

"I paid you to work for me, not to chicken out when the pressure's on—what's with the crowd? Find a corner, smash his sculpture, and run; who'd see? And don't forget to scatter that evidence as well."

The person on the other end seemed to have said something, and the man's cold snort grew heavier, his arrogant confidence showing: 'Even if he finds out it's me, what can he do? I'm his older brother—could he really call the police and have me arrested? Enough, enough; if you keep talking, you can forget about getting the balance.'

Xiang Yingfan hung up, took an irritated drag on his cigarette, was about to turn and leave, when he suddenly felt a gaze land on his back.

He jerked his head back, glanced inside the dessert shop, and saw only a young figure's back standing at the counter, head down looking at his phone—nothing out of the ordinary.

Xiang Yingfan let out a cold snort, stubbed out his cigarette, and turned to walk away.

"Sir, your coffee."

The clerk reminded him a second time before Jin Chen withdrew his gaze from Xiang Yingfan's retreating back; he took the packaged milk tea and coffee, lowered his eyes, his expression calm.

The gallery's rooftop office.

Chenshu had just finished receiving a few important guests, pushed the door open, and saw on the desk a bowl of glutinous rice balls, a plate of dumplings, and the caramel milk tea he loved.

Chenshu smiled, narrowing his eyes; northern and southern customs were perfectly represented on this table—what an adorable boyfriend.

But… he glanced doubtfully toward the lounge, pushed the door open, and Jin Chen wasn't there either.

Chenshu was somewhat surprised; his boyfriend couldn't possibly have come just to act as a delivery person today, right? On such an important day, how could he not come to witness it?

He sat down, picked up a spoon, scooped a glutinous rice ball into his mouth; the sweet sesame filling melted on his tongue, soft and sticky, unlike the ones sold outside—it was clear Jin Chen had made them himself, the tenderness and smile between his brows deepening as he ate and dialed Jin Chen's number.

The call connected, and from the earpiece came a rush of wind, whooshing, as if he were standing in some open place.

Chenshu set his chopsticks on the bowl's rim, leaned back in his chair, his voice lazy and amused: 'This delivery guy, where did he run off to after dropping off the food?'

The wind was strong on the gallery's rooftop.

Jin Chen held the phone to his ear with one hand, and with the other pressed the thin man's nape, pinning him halfway against the wall beside the railing.

That man was a full head shorter than Jin Chen; being held, his whole body trembled, his mouth stuffed haphazardly with a crumpled poster, only able to emit muffled whimpers, his legs so weak he could barely stand.

Jin Chen's hair was tousled by the rooftop wind, stray strands occasionally brushing his brow and lashes; he lowered his eyes, his tone obedient and gentle, at odds with his posture: 'Older brother, I'm just catching some breeze on the rooftop. Earlier there were lots of people, I felt a bit out of sorts.'

Chenshu hummed in response, 'Come down and keep me company while I eat dumplings. The office is empty now—I need to accompany the boyfriend who specially came to deliver Beginning-of-Winter treats.'

Jin Chen: 'I'll be down shortly; first I'll go get the older brother's opening gift.'

"All right." Chenshu replied eagerly.

After hanging up, Jin Chen slipped his phone into his windbreaker pocket, eyed the thin man before him—his hand still clenched tight around a stack of papers, those stuffed into envelopes, meant to be scattered at the gallery's opening as false evidence.

Jin Chen reached out, slowly prying open the man's fingers, and pulled the stack free.

He glanced at them casually—nothing more than printed chat screenshots, fabricated transfer records, plus some slander and frame‑ups against Chenshu, the wording crude but numerous, from tricky angles, paired with decontextualized text, enough to manufacture sufficient malicious public opinion among those unaware of the truth.

Having looked them over, Jin Chen folded the stack, expressionlessly tucked it into his pocket, then pushed his arm slightly outward, sending the man's upper torso a bit farther over the railing.

The man's feet were nearly off the ground, his whole body suspended at the edge of the seven‑story height, a choked whimper escaping his throat, his eyes bulging almost out of their sockets.

"Did Xiang Yingfan give you these?" Jin Chen's clear voice was somewhat scattered by the wind.

The thin man nodded frantically; at this point he couldn't care about any outstanding payment—his life was on the line!

I don't know where this madman came from; he looks young, but his attack was terrifyingly fierce—just moments ago when we bumped into him at the rooftop entrance, he hadn't even had time to react before being grabbed by the collar and dragged all the way up here.

Jin Chen had him leave the evidence linking him to Xiang Yingfan; the thin man complied, trembling, making sure nothing was missed, whereupon Jin Chen released his grip.

The thin man's legs gave out, and he dropped straight to his knees, taking a while to recover.

He lifted his terrified gaze, only to see the youth's back already at the rooftop door, not even turning his head.

Knowing he was in the wrong, he didn't dare call the police; his phone buzzed again—Xiang Yingfan calling to urge progress. The man didn't dare answer, fearing to offend both sides, he fumbled to reject the call and scrambled away, stumbling and crawling.

Jin Chen came down from the rooftop, first picked up the opening gift the courier had delivered, then, following the address the thin man had given, located where Xiang Yingfan was at that moment.