Wei Chen knew that Chen Li didn't have a good life in the Chen family, but he never imagined that Chen Li would receive such treatment there.
Led by a servant, Wei Chen arrived at Chen Li's room. It was less of a room and more of a small attic. The attic door was tightly closed. The servant stopped with Wei Chen at the attic entrance and said, "Mr. Wei, the young master doesn't like to be disturbed. I'll go down now." When mentioning Chen Li, there was not a trace of respect in this servant's voice; Wei Chen could even detect contempt.
Clearly, in the Chen family, even a servant looked down on Chen Li. Without the master's implicit consent, would a servant dare to show such blatant contempt?
Wei Chen's face showed no emotion, but inwardly his heart ached for Chen Li's situation. He felt increasingly certain that taking Chen Li away from the Chen family as soon as possible was the right choice.
After the servant withdrew, Wei Chen stepped forward and gently knocked on the door. Inside, it was completely silent; no one responded. Wei Chen knew that given Chen Li's personality, he wouldn't come to open the door. Yet, sensing the quiet environment inside, an inexplicable panic seized Wei Chen, and his knocking became more urgent.
Still, only silence answered him. Wei Chen's anxiety grew, his heart feeling as if it were being hollowed out, pounding so hard it seemed ready to leap from his throat. In that instant, Wei Chen lost his rationality. He turned, executed a spinning kick, and violently kicked the door open.
The moment the door burst open, a wave of hot air mixed with the pungent smell of paint engulfed Wei Chen. Ignoring it, he searched the small, cramped attic for Chen Li.
The attic was tiny; Wei Chen spotted Chen Li almost immediately. The thin young man sat upright before an easel, a paintbrush in his hand, stroking across the paper. Outside, the sun shone brightly, but the world beneath the young man's brush was painted in deep, somber colors. Combined with the confined space, the overwhelming feeling was one of suffocating oppression.
The Chen villa actually had central air conditioning. Although the air outside was blazing hot in the height of summer, inside it was as cool as spring. The sole exception was this attic at the top, directly exposed to the sun's rays, its temperature rivaling the outdoors. With the windows closed and no air circulation, one could imagine the heat in this room.
Wei Chen had only been inside for a moment, and sweat beads had already formed on his forehead. But he seemed oblivious, staring blankly at the young man's back, momentarily forgetting speech, forgetting where he was.
In that instant, it felt as if fireworks were blooming in his mind. The young man's upright back overlapped with the memory of that blood-covered face wearing a gentle smile. Wei Chen was ecstatic, his eyes instantly welling up with tears. The next moment, crystalline teardrops fell from his eyes, tracing paths down his cheeks, gathering on his strong jaw before dripping down.
No one knows how long passed before Wei Chen roughly wiped the tears from his face. He stepped towards Chen Li, finally stopping beside him. He raised a hand, wanting to touch him, but just as he lifted it, he hesitated. Right now, Chen Li was completely enclosed in the world he had defined for himself. Any touch from another, for Chen Li, would be the most agonizing thing.
"Chen Li..." Wei Chen called his name softly. When those two syllables crossed his lips, they were infused with an indescribable tenderness.
The young man seemed not to notice anyone had entered. His gaze was fixed on the distance, while on the paper, a beam of sunlight happened to leap in through the window, landing precisely on the area painted with the heaviest, darkest colors.