Top Dupe CH 075 Deconstructing Lu Pingfeng

"Yes, an art exhibition just for you," Lu Pingfeng spoke gently and calmly.

Wen Yuchi pulled out a chair and sat down. Lu Pingfeng picked up a white porcelain teapot, poured half a cup of tea into a porcelain cup in front of Wen Yuchi, and then added half a cup of milk, asking softly, "How many sugar cubes?"

Wen Yuchi smiled, looking at him, "How did you know I'd choose milk tea instead of coffee?"

"I gave you such an expensive gift, but after a week, I still haven't received a thank you from you. If you truly didn't want to communicate with me, you'd have sent it back through the delivery service. But... it's such a beautiful butterfly specimen; you wouldn't want it to get damaged in transit, so you'd deliver it back yourself. After so many days, you've finally come. So, I figured you must be very busy." Lu Pingfeng’s gentle voice gradually eased Wen Yuchi’s tense nerves.

"So, why milk tea and not coffee?" Wen Yuchi asked curiously.

"Seven days of overtime—haven’t you had enough coffee?" Lu Pingfeng leaned toward Wen Yuchi and, closing his eyes, gently sniffed the collar of his shirt. "It's not the scent of freshly ground Arabica coffee beans. You’ve been drinking a lot of instant coffee without milk. If you keep it up, the dark circles under your eyes won’t go away."

Wen Yuchi, who had been forcing himself to stay awake, yawned openly at Lu Pingfeng's words. His eyelids drooped, and he looked as if he might fall asleep on the table at any moment.

"Three sugar cubes, thank you."

With that, Wen Yuchi grabbed the sweetest-looking cream muffin from the top of the dessert tower and stuffed it into his mouth.

Meanwhile, Lu Pingfeng, unhurriedly, used small tongs to drop three sugar cubes into Wen Yuchi's milk tea. He swirled a spoon in the cup a few times and then rested it on the saucer.

"Do you like the gifts I gave you?" Lu Pingfeng asked with a hint of amusement in his smile.

"Those gifts?" Wen Yuchi grabbed the cup directly, drinking a large gulp like he was chugging water. The fine Ceylon tea was lost on him. "Isn’t the ‘Goddess of Light’ the only thing you gave me?"

"Your colleagues don’t seem to think so," Lu Pingfeng hinted.

Perhaps due to days of constant work, Wen Yuchi’s brain was a bit slow. After a few seconds, he suddenly realized.

"Oh… you're talking about those things. You know, you’re someone who pursues the ultimate in aesthetics. But cockroaches, rats, and spider corpses symbolize fear and humiliation. Those things couldn’t have come from you—they don’t match your style."

Wen Yuchi leaned closer to look at him. Lu Pingfeng lowered his eyes and smiled gently.

"You’ve got a crazy fan, Mr. Great Artist," Wen Yuchi straightened his back, wiped the almond crumbs from the corner of his mouth, leaned back lazily, and looked at Lu Pingfeng. "Maybe your fan got jealous of the beautiful butterfly you gave me."

"If the ‘Goddess of Light’ is really that beautiful, why would you return it?"

"Because compared to the ‘Goddess of Light,’ there's something even more beautiful drawing me back here."

"Oh? And what is this more beautiful thing?" Lu Pingfeng lowered his head with a faint smile, then looked up, as if saying, "Go ahead, perform."

Wen Yuchi’s answer was just one word: "You."

At that moment, under the play of light and shadow, his smile seemed as fragile as moonlight falling upon a ruined city, as if it could lure the old town back to life to breathe one last time.

Lu Pingfeng’s gaze couldn’t shift away. Hesitant, he asked, "Me?"

"Mr. Lu, your bone structure is the most beautiful I’ve seen, whether in living people or dead bodies," Wen Yuchi said, picking up another small cake and taking a bite, his eyes still fixed on Lu Pingfeng. "May I appreciate you for a moment?"

"With pleasure," Lu Pingfeng’s smile deepened, the amusement in it more pronounced.

As an artist, this was the first time he had been treated as an artwork to be appreciated.

"Hmm, your brow bone is prominent, and your eye sockets are deep—but these I don’t need to mention. The key is that your brow bone isn’t too low. If it were too close to your eyes, it would create a sense of oppression. In that case, any attempt to present yourself as gentle and polite would lose credibility."

The implication was that Lu Pingfeng's current gentleness was a facade, simply benefitting from the structure of his brow and eye sockets.

"Your jawline is sharp, with clean and strong angles, giving you a sense of distance while also appearing noble and elegant."

"Next, are you going to tell me about the golden ratio?" Lu Pingfeng asked.

Wen Yuchi swallowed the cake, and this time, Lu Pingfeng refilled his tea by a third, without adding more sugar or milk.

This person had a strong ability to observe and gauge his needs. Like now, Wen Yuchi had gobbled down two pieces of cake due to low blood sugar, but that didn’t mean he had a sweet tooth. Lu Pingfeng, just refilling his tea, helped to cut through the sweetness.

"Mr. Lu, you might be disappointed to hear that your features don't quite fit the golden ratio. In fact, if they did, you'd likely look quite ordinary." Wen Yuchi didn't hold the handle of the cup, instead grabbing it as if he were drinking alcohol and taking a large gulp. "The beauty of your bone structure lies in the perfect balance of all its distances. The distance between your eyes, the space between your brow bone and your eye sockets, the length of your mid-face, the distance from your lower lip to your jaw—all are harmonious and perfect."

This time, Lu Pingfeng lowered his head with a smile. From Wen Yuchi’s angle, he could only see his forehead and nose bridge, but the overwhelming beauty of it seemed to flood into Wen Yuchi’s eyes, as if it could make him cherish all things.

"So, you like my skull. If I die one day, I’ll make sure to leave my skull to you in my will," Lu Pingfeng said seriously, looking up.

"Your wrist," Wen Yuchi said.

"Hmm?"

"I like your wrist the most." Wen Yuchi’s eyes fell to Lu Pingfeng's wrist. "Unfortunately… I haven’t seen it today."

Lu Pingfeng was wearing a light sweater over a linen shirt, with the cuff buttons fastened, concealing his wrist.

"Oh—Mr. Forensic Expert, when you shook my hand that day, was it to examine the scars on my fingers or to look at my wrist?" Lu Pingfeng asked.

"Your wrist."

Wen Yuchi’s face showed no embarrassment, completely at ease.

"Would you still like to see it?" Lu Pingfeng extended his right hand toward Wen Yuchi.

"Yes, I would." Wen Yuchi carefully wiped the crumbs from his fingers with a napkin, unbuttoned Lu Pingfeng’s cuff, and neatly folded it up.

Lu Pingfeng stretched his hand forward slightly, placing his wrist in Wen Yuchi’s palm.

"Should I update my will?"

"No need." Wen Yuchi’s fingertips touched Lu Pingfeng’s wrist bone. "If you die one day, I probably won’t find it beautiful anymore."

"Why?" Lu Pingfeng propped his chin with his other hand, his gaze never leaving Wen Yuchi's face.

The young assistant forensic doctor lowered his eyelashes, focusing intently on the direction and curvature of the wrist bones, showing a candidness and authenticity that surpassed the flattery of art critics and collectors.

"It's like a wildflower pulled from a cracked wall, or a twisted pine tree torn from a cliff, or a flying fish stranded on the shore—it loses its beauty. Only when it exists on your body does it have value for appreciation."

Wen Yuchi, ever the gentleman, pushed Lu Pingfeng's hand away and stood up. "Since this is a private art exhibition prepared just for me, I must take my time to appreciate Mr. Lu's works."

He walked to the door of the studio and began to make the round clockwise.

The first painting depicted a vine coiled around a tree. The tree had been drained of nutrients, its outer bark withered and peeling, and its center hollowed out, with insects crawling from the rot. The vine’s leaves had yellowed and drooped, unable to draw sustenance despite its tight grip.

The two formed a twisted shape, and the dark, gloomy colors of the painting only intensified the sense of struggle, as if the vine was trying to claw its way out of the canvas.

"What’s the name of this painting?"

"I never intended to display it publicly, so I didn’t give it a name." Lu Pingfeng remained seated, leaning back, watching Wen Yuchi's silhouette.

"This painting vividly captures the control and plunder born from love," Wen Yuchi said softly, tilting his head. "So, loving someone too obsessively or too much is dangerous. The more one loves, the more one desires from the other."

"Sounds as if you’ve once loved obsessively."

Wen Yuchi shook his head. "I only obsess over finding the cause of death. Take this tree, for example. I would need to know what caused its wound, whether it was a disease or mechanical damage. How long it had been drained of nutrients, and how long it would take to decompose after it died."

"But you see love in it," Lu Pingfeng said, turning slightly to look at him.

"I see no love in dead things. It’s just that after hearing so many cases, this situation fits the profile of a passion-related crime involving control and possession."

Having said that, Wen Yuchi moved on to the second painting.

In the field stood a scarecrow, and impaled on its shoulder was a sharpened bamboo stick, upon which a bird was skewered. The stick pierced the bird’s tail and emerged from its open beak. The bird’s feathers were already beginning to fall, some scattered on the scarecrow’s shoulder, while the scarecrow’s eerie grin, combined with the dark colors and exaggerated lines, evoked a chilling cruelty despite the absence of blood.

"My agent said this painting wouldn’t sell well, because it’s too neurotic," Lu Pingfeng commented.

But Wen Yuchi didn’t step back. He even moved half a step closer to the scarecrow.

"Is loneliness neurotic?" Wen Yuchi asked softly, as if speaking to Lu Pingfeng or perhaps merely to himself.

"Why loneliness?" Lu Pingfeng’s finger twitched slightly.

"The farmer impaled this bird on the scarecrow’s shoulder to scare away the rest of the flock, right? Only with the farmer’s interest and death’s mercy does the scarecrow have this bird for company. But..."

"But what?" Lu Pingfeng stood up and walked to Wen Yuchi’s side, holding a teacup.

"But a scarecrow doesn’t have a heart. It doesn’t know what loneliness is. Unless...the person who painted it is very lonely."

With that, Wen Yuchi turned back, took his tea cup from Lu Pingfeng, and drank from it deeply.

"Is there nothing in this world that stirs your emotions?" Lu Pingfeng asked.

"Of course there is. I’ll let you know when I’m feeling sentimental." Wen Yuchi glanced back at him and moved on to the next painting.

In the center of the studio hung a painting of a redback spider. The male spider was reduced to half its body, but its most important part remained inside the female’s shell. Their chase and destruction formed a stark contrast, with wild strokes and dark yet bold colors. The male spider’s death carried an unsettling intensity, as the extremes of giving and taking made one’s heart tremble.

"Of all the works in this studio, this is your favorite, isn’t it?" Lu Pingfeng asked.

"It most resembles how I see you, Mr. Lu," Wen Yuchi replied, turning to glance at Lu Pingfeng.

At that moment, Wen Yuchi's eyes and the smile on his lips seemed to absorb the vividness and extremity of the painting, as if waiting for someone to approach him.

No matter how others viewed Lu Pingfeng as an oddity, in Wen Yuchi’s eyes, he always had the freedom to be understood and accepted.

When Lu Pingfeng regained his senses, he found himself standing in front of Wen Yuchi.

For that moment, he couldn’t deny a certain illusion—he was willing to offer up his body, from flesh to bone, to this person who deconstructed death, just to keep Wen Yuchi’s gaze on him.

Because only Wen Yuchi could interpret him through the lens of death.

That was an irreplaceable romance.

Just then, Wen Yuchi’s phone rang, and he answered it.

"Hello, Professor? Where are you? Got it, I’ll be there in about half an hour."

After hanging up, Wen Yuchi looked at Lu Pingfeng.

"You have to work overtime again, don’t you?"

"Sorry, this private art exhibit you prepared so carefully—I can only admire up to here," Wen Yuchi said, though his face showed no real apology.

"I’ll drop you off then."

"At this hour, the subway will be faster."

With that, Wen Yuchi grabbed another muffin, eating it as he left the studio.

Once both of them were out of the frame, the crew signaled that the scene had wrapped.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the set, followed by growing chatter.

"They’re amazing, aren’t they? That was such a long scene. I thought they’d break it into multiple takes, but they went through the whole thing without missing a single line."

"Gu Xiaowei’s micro-expressions and tone were especially worth savoring. He’s so calm yet distant, but every time he talks to Wen Yuchi, his face changes..."

"Like a cold, perfect statue coming to life?"

"Exactly! And Luo Yu’s performance really exceeded my expectations! Every time he looked at Lu Pingfeng, I felt this anticipation rising inside me!"

Meanwhile, watching from the side, Nie Yangchen wasn’t thinking about Gu Xiaowei’s impeccable expressions or lines. Instead, he recalled Luo Yu’s smile as he stood in front of the redback spider and looked back at Gu Xiaowei.

In front of him, death had lost its original mystery and intimidation, and life in his eyes seemed to pass like a fleeting moment.

With that smile, all things withered would bloom again.

Had Lu Pingfeng, as a painter, ever imagined building a prison of his own making? Had he ever been provoked by an uncontrollable desire to get closer?

This scene still required a few more close-up shots of the leads.

The previous chemistry was so good that the crew worried whether they could recapture that state for the close-ups.

The assistant director nervously glanced at Sheng Yunlan, fearing that Gu Xiaowei and Luo Yu’s stellar performance might not be replicable, leaving the perfectionist director stuck on this scene.

But to everyone’s surprise, when the close-up shots were filmed, the interactions between the two actors only deepened.

Their gazes and lines seemed to be pulled together by invisible threads, every glance appearing candid, yet upon closer inspection, brimming with meaning.

Each line felt like a response to the other’s innermost thoughts.

The more they filmed, the more addictive it became for Sheng Yunlan, almost like he wanted to capture the scene from every possible angle, like a dramatic kiss in a romance film.

Finally, the close-ups were completed, and the crew began setting up for the next scene.

At that moment, Luo Yu was reviewing his script, while Ye Shengyi was helping him fix his hair.

"Brother Luo, you were amazing just now! You and Brother Gu almost melted the room!"

"We’re not molten chocolate cake, no melting needed," Luo Yu laughed as he closed his eyes.

"By the way, tonight at eight, ‘Counterattack’ is airing. Brother Luo, are you excited? You’re the character that sets the stage in the opening!"

Luo Yu’s heart skipped a beat—”Counterattack” was finally about to air.

It was his first role since his rebirth. Whether or not he could win the audience’s approval would be determined tonight.

Shows like “Counterattack”, with its serious tone, often didn’t grab viewers' attention in the beginning. It wasn’t until later plot twists and character development that the viewership ratings steadily climbed.

However... with Gu Xiaowei around, the ratings for the first episode should be stable.

At this moment, Gu Xiaowei sat down on the small chair beside him, holding a thermos cup and carefully reading the script with his head lowered.

Luo Yu placed one hand on his shoulder. "Hey, ‘Counterattack’ is airing tonight. Want to watch it together when we get back?"

Gu Xiaowei responded, "Sure."

His makeup artist, Ah Yan, overheard and looked surprised. "Ai, Brother Gu, didn’t you say you don’t watch your own shows while they’re airing? Something about it affecting your performance?"

"You’re afraid of that?" Luo Yu laughed, leaning closer to Gu Xiaowei to check his expression.

His wrist was suddenly grabbed, and Gu Xiaowei lifted his gaze. His face appeared gentle, but his eyes were slightly cold—this was Lu Pingfeng’s demeanor.

"Instead of worrying about my state, why not worry about your own—can you keep your performance steady enough to continue drawing me in during the next scene?"

Gu Xiaowei’s gaze didn’t exert pressure on Luo Yu; rather, it felt like another kind of... more indulgent permission.

In the film, Wen Yuchi was drawn to the painting of the red-backed spider, while in reality, Luo Yu was lured by Gu Xiaowei, who stood by the painting watching him.

Luo Yu controlled his breathing and emotions, wearing the casual indifference that belonged to Wen Yuchi on his face, while inside, he felt a restless stirring.

In each scene, Luo Yu could, through Wen Yuchi’s identity, do everything to Gu Xiaowei that he wouldn’t do or even think of doing in real life.

"Of course," Luo Yu answered.

As the crew pushed a light-blocking screen between them, Luo Yu’s view was momentarily obscured.

What a pity, he didn’t get to see Gu Xiaowei’s reaction. Luo Yu rested his chin in his hand, watching as Gu Xiaowei turned to prepare for the next scene.

The upcoming scene featured the arrival of the collector’s secretary, Qin Lin, played by Nie Yangchen, who intended to purchase Lu Pingfeng’s painting of the red-backed spider.

The setting remained in Lu Pingfeng’s studio, with various painting tools and that small tea table still present. A three-tiered dessert tray sat atop the tea table.

During the private art exhibition that day, all the other paintings had been put away, leaving only the red-backed spider painting on display.

Most actors and crew not involved in this scene were asked to leave, but Luo Yu was granted a small privilege. He grabbed a little stool, hugged Gu Xiaowei’s thermos cup, and nestled beside Director Sheng Yunlan.

As they adjusted the lighting and camera angles, Sheng Yunlan chatted briefly with Luo Yu.

"That last scene was well done—more vivid than before. But remember, you’re Wen Yuchi. Your goal isn’t just to attract Lu Pingfeng, but to draw him across the boundary toward you. This means you need to get closer, so close that even you feel the danger," Sheng Yunlan looked at Luo Yu, observing his expression, ensuring he understood.

Some suggestions were just that—suggestions. But a talented actor could grasp the director’s intent, the kind of relationship and effect they were aiming for.

Luo Yu nodded. In truth, he already felt the “danger.” Gu Xiaowei possessed a kind of composed and dignified charm. When he hinted for Luo Yu to lure him, it was also a deadly attraction for Luo Yu. So many people in the world desired to get a glimpse of Gu Xiaowei’s desires, yet he gave Luo Yu that privilege.

"Don’t be afraid of getting in too deep, or of not knowing how to deal with Gu Xiaowei after the filming is over and you’ve returned to reality."

Luo Yu was stunned. He hadn’t expected Sheng Yunlan to see through his concerns after just two scenes.

"Acting can lie, but the eyes cannot. He’s used to drawing from you the feelings needed to become Lu Pingfeng. He treasures your scenes together. You need to trust that, whether before or after filming, you two will always be each other’s unique counterparts," Sheng Yunlan’s voice was calm yet solemn.

It eased the small bit of unease in Luo Yu’s heart.

When he looked up, he saw Gu Xiaowei sitting by the easel, glancing sideways at him.

Luo Yu smiled, lifting his chin slightly and mouthing, "See you in the next scene."

Gu Xiaowei lowered his head, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.