Ruthless Romance

Chapter 8: The Most Memorable Person

Wen Yan furrowed her brow, touching her neck gingerly. She vaguely remembered Mu Tingchen's kisses, certain they had left marks.

At this thought, her face alternated between red and white. Mrs. Liu, oblivious to her discomfort, continued cheerfully, "Yan Yan, if the young master truly likes you, you should be with him. You'll want for nothing, and he's certainly handsome enough. You couldn't possibly find fault with him after ten years together."

Desperate to escape this conversation, Wen Yan hastily interrupted, "Mrs. Liu, I'll be late for class. I have to go!" She practically fled from the house.

Be with Mu Tingchen? She must have a death wish.

At school, Chen Mengyao examined the scarf around Wen Yan's neck. "Darling, your taste is... unique. It's very 1970s. But you make everything look good – you could wear a janitor's uniform and still be stunning, especially with those soul-catching eyes of yours!"

Eyes. Mu Tingchen had mentioned her eyes last night too. Wen Yan felt uncomfortable at the reminder. "Stop teasing."

Suddenly, a phone rang. Chen Mengyao looked at Wen Yan, who looked back at her.

"Not mine," Chen Mengyao shrugged. "Doesn't sound like my ringtone."

Wen Yan realized the sound was coming from her bag. Searching through it, she found an expensive new smartphone ringing insistently in the corner.

Bewildered, she checked it – the caller ID showed Mu Tingchen's name.

When had he slipped this phone into her bag? And already programmed his number?

Feeling awkward under Chen Mengyao's curious gaze, she answered, "Hello?"

His melodious voice came through, devoid of warmth: "I've transferred money to you. Next time you come home, I don't want to see that starved look on your face. No appetite."

No appetite? She doubted he was talking about food.

He hung up abruptly, and her phone immediately received a transfer notification.

Wen Yan nervously turned off the phone and stuffed it back into her bag. Her hand trembled as she touched the bank card inside. It felt uncomfortably like payment for last night's events.

"That phone costs over ten thousand yuan," Chen Mengyao observed. "Where did you get it?"

Wen Yan deflected, "Someone gave it to me. Come on, class is starting."

As if fate was conspiring against her, their art instructor announced upon entering the studio, "Today, draw the person who has left the deepest impression on you. Feel free to use photographs as reference, but no live models required."

Chen Mengyao eagerly stared at Wen Yan, clearly inspired. Wen Yan felt embarrassed. "What are you doing? You're supposed to draw someone who left the deepest impression on you..."

Chen Mengyao grinned, "That's you! From the moment I first saw you, you left an indelible mark on my life. You're perfect – if you went into entertainment, you'd put all those celebrities to shame. Though you are a bit too quiet and thin."

Wen Yan remained silent, contemplating who had left the deepest impression on her. Her parents? Their faces had long faded from her memory. When she thought of Mu Tingchen, even the faces of Butler Lin and Mrs. Liu disappeared from her mind.

She desperately didn't want to draw Mu Tingchen, and she had no photographs of him. Yet... even without references, his face remained crystal clear in her mind. Every gesture, every expression was deeply etched in her memory.

"Wen Yan, what are you doing? Your education is funded by others – how can you be so lazy? Stop daydreaming and start drawing!" The instructor rapped on the easel beside her.

Steeling herself, Wen Yan began to draw. She intended to portray Mrs. Liu, who had been the kindest to her after her parents. Yet as her hand moved across the paper, the figure emerging on her canvas inevitably transformed into Mu Tingchen.

His features took shape beneath her pencil with unsettling ease – the sharp line of his jaw, the subtle curve of his lips, those penetrating eyes that seemed to see through her every defense. Each stroke revealed how deeply his image was embedded in her consciousness, how thoroughly he had permeated her world.

The realization disturbed her. It wasn't just his face she remembered with such clarity, but every nuance of his presence: the way he held himself, how his expression changed when he was displeased, the rare moments when genuine emotion broke through his carefully maintained facade. Even the memory of last night – his alcohol-loosened inhibitions, his possessive touch – seemed to influence her rendering of him.

Chen Mengyao peered over her shoulder, whistling softly. "Wow, who is that? He's gorgeous! Is he the mysterious benefactor who's been supporting you?"

Wen Yan's hand froze mid-stroke. She hadn't meant to reveal so much, hadn't intended to make the drawing so intimate, so detailed. Yet here was Mu Tingchen on her canvas, looking as real as if he might step out of the paper at any moment.

The instructor passed by again, pausing to study her work. "Now this is what I'm talking about. There's real emotion here, real understanding of the subject. The way you've captured the light in his eyes, the tension in his posture – this is someone you know well."

Too well, Wen Yan thought, fighting the urge to cover the drawing. Every line she'd drawn seemed to expose something she'd rather keep hidden – not just about Mu Tingchen, but about herself and their complicated relationship.

The new phone in her bag felt heavier now, like a concrete reminder of his constant presence in her life. Even here, in her sanctuary of art and education, she couldn't escape his influence. He had marked her life as indelibly as her pencil had marked the paper, leaving impressions that no eraser could remove.