Or… someone else entirely?

Rong Qian tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep no matter how hard she tried.

The moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was Shen Yi—eyes red, alone, vulnerable. It tugged at her heart.

She suddenly remembered: at this time of day, he'd usually be studying foreign languages.

Complex, tongue-twisting sentences that she could never remember. Whenever Shen Yi quizzed her, she'd cheat—scribbling little Chinese notes over the passage.

And every time she read them out loud, he'd laugh.

After witnessing his terrifying gift for learning, she had once jokingly called him a freak—because who memorized entire paragraphs by page number?

Shen Yi was a genius, no doubt about it. But the more she thought about him, the heavier her heart grew. Now that she was gone, he was probably slipping back into that cold, isolated shell of his.

"No!" Rong Qian sat upright. "This is not the time to be sleeping! I need to find him—I need to explain everything. He has to know I didn't abandon him!"

She'd never imagined her disappearance would affect him so deeply—that it would make him physically ill for two months, leave him with permanent migraines.

She couldn't just leave things like this.

Firing up her laptop, she typed in "Xu Zhiwei", hoping for a lead.

Nothing.

Maybe… he had already passed away?

She did the math. In 1967, Xu Zhiwei was in his thirties. That would put him around 89 or 90 years old now.

Was he still alive?

Just then—

"What are you doing? Come eat something nourishing," her mom called, stepping into the room uninvited. She saw her daughter hunched over the computer, hair a mess, looking like she was trying to telepathically hack the screen.

Forget soup for the body—this child clearly needed soup for the brain.

Listlessly, Rong Qian floated to the dining table and sat down. She didn't even look at what was in the bowl—just lifted the spoon and shoved it toward her mouth.

Her mom squinted. "Is air tasty?"

"Huh?" Rong Qian blinked. Oh. Her bowl was empty.

Her mom frowned. "What's going on with you? You've been out of it all day. I even tried to set you up with someone decent before—good job, you didn't even give him a chance."

"Who says having a boyfriend makes work any easier?" Rong Qian muttered.

Her mom shot her a look. She shut up instantly and resumed eating her invisible soup.

Her dad motioned silently for her mom to drop it, but she wasn't done. "You act like no one's good enough. What are you looking for in a man? Xu Yang's smart, good-looking—what, you wanna marry a movie star?"

"It's not about looks," Rong Qian groaned. "There's just… no spark, okay?"

Her mom rolled her eyes. "He's not a celebrity, but he's better looking than most. And it's not just looks—his family's background isn't ordinary either. His great-uncle, Xu Zhiwei—he's a legend."

Rong Qian froze mid-chew.

"What did you just say? His great-uncle is Xu Zhiwei? Which characters?" she demanded.

Her mom blinked, confused, but answered.

It was him. The Xu Zhiwei.

Rong Qian nearly exploded with joy. She grabbed her mom's face and gave her a loud, smacking kiss.

"Mom! You're amazing! I need to find Xu Yang—right now!"

She bolted to the door, then spun around. "Wait—what's his number?!"

Her mom: "…"

Her carefully selected match, and she didn't even keep his contact info?

Eventually, Rong Qian got hold of Xu Yang. She asked to meet, but he was headed to an auction and suggested they talk another day.

"I'll come to you. Where's the auction being held?" she said urgently.

Xu Yang was baffled by her insistence, but gave her the location anyway. "You'll need an invitation to get in. If you arrive first, wait outside—I'll bring you in."

No problem.

She arrived to find the auction venue as strict as he'd warned. Without an invitation, she couldn't get in.

She wasn't here for the event anyway—she just needed Xu Yang.

Not long after, he arrived with his assistant in tow. He looked rushed but said they could talk inside. She had no choice but to follow.

Once seated, Xu Yang apologized. "There's a particular item I must win. Hope you don't mind."

"No worries," Rong Qian replied, waving her hand. "I'm off today. This'll be fun."

From the décor alone, it was clear this wasn't your average auction. Everything about the event screamed wealth and exclusivity.

Xu Yang glanced at her, amused by her calm. He found her personality easy to be around—relaxed but direct.

"Now, what's so urgent?" he finally asked.

Rong Qian didn't hesitate. "I heard your great-uncle is Xu Zhiwei. Can I meet him?"

Xu Yang blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"That's why I came. I need to speak to him."

Xu Yang's face shifted. "You tracked me down just to meet my great-uncle?"

He wasn't just surprised—he was suspicious. What could she possibly have to say to a man almost 90 years old?

"I know this sounds sudden, and weird," Rong Qian said honestly. "But yes. I need his help. If you can't arrange it, I'll find another way."

"Miss Rong, my great-uncle is 89. Barely anyone still knows him. What exactly do you need from him?"

Rong Qian was just about to explain—

When the auction officially began.

They both turned toward the stage. Xu Yang leaned closer and said, "I mentioned that one item I had to win?"

"Yeah?" Rong Qian was distracted by a set of jaw-dropping jewelry prices.

"That item—it's something my great-uncle asked me to get."

Rong Qian turned sharply. "What is it?"

"You'll see. It's coming up."

Soon, two staff carefully carried a large, red-draped canvas onto the stage.

"That's it," Xu Yang said.

"A painting?" Rong Qian mumbled. "No way…"

The cloth came off.

And her heart stopped.

It was her.

Her face. Her smile. Immortalized in brushstrokes.

Rong Qian covered her face, cringing.

Xu Yang stared too—clearly, he hadn't known what the painting depicted. Only that his great-uncle told him it was the only painting he must win tonight.

The resemblance was undeniable.

The host explained that the painting, titled "ANGEL", was created in 1968 by an anonymous artist. Over the years, it had passed through the hands of multiple elite collectors.

In 1981, it had sold for 60 million at a private auction in New York.

In 2001, it was donated to a charity.

And now, it had resurfaced.

The crowd murmured with curiosity. Who was the unknown artist? Why was it worth so much?

Rong Qian was stunned.

Someone paid 60 million for a portrait of her?

Wait—maybe it wasn't about her. Maybe it was the artistry. The skill. The emotional expression.

Xu Yang raised his paddle without hesitation.

He didn't need to fight hard. Few dared challenge him. In the end, he won the painting for 80 million.

Rong Qian shook her head.

In 1981, someone shelled out 60 million. Had to have it. No hesitation.