chapter 15
Guan Heng was not in the empty room where the puzzles were assembled.
Ning Qiuyan walked down the long corridor and arrived at the door of the room where he always met Guan Heng.
He was about to knock, but before his hand touched the door, he heard Guan Heng’s voice.
“Come in.”
He heard Guan Heng say.
Just as the carpet muffled footsteps and the door separated them, Guan Heng still knew it was him outside.
Ning Qiuyan gently turned the handle and pushed open the double doors.
A blazing fire burned in the center of the room, making it very warm and tranquil, almost completely silent.
The firelight illuminated the two people inside, one sitting and one standing, casting a lively glow on their equally pale and handsome faces.
Guan Heng was seated.
The guest stood, slightly stooped, hands clasped behind his back, looking very deferential.
Ning Qiuyan’s arrival might have interrupted their conversation. As he turned to close the door, he felt their gazes fall upon him.
As he walked over, he noticed the guest’s eyes followed him, tracking his every move.
The guest also had deep black eyes. Unlike earlier downstairs, now there was a faint, almost imperceptible red in the guest’s eyes, just like what Ning Qiuyan had seen in Guan Heng’s.
Perhaps it was the firelight-Ning Qiuyan couldn’t be sure.
“This is Lu Qianque,” Guan Heng introduced to Ning Qiuyan. “He’s the contact who’s been keeping in touch with you.”
Contact? The one with the email account starting with LU?
Ning Qiuyan looked at the guest in surprise. “It’s been you contacting me all along?”
From the initial contact to confirming the agreement, and then the subsequent supplies and notifications.
Now Ning Qiuyan understood why the other had said downstairs that it was finally good to meet.
The guest, Lu Qianque, nodded gently.
Even as he nodded, his gaze never left Ning Qiuyan’s face, as if he was genuinely interested in him.
“I thought you lived on Du Island as well,” Ning Qiuyan said.
“I actually considered it once,” Lu Qianque replied. “But sir doesn’t like living with the same kind… with me, so I was pitifully driven off the island by him.”
Guan Heng neither confirmed nor denied this, only glancing at Lu Qianque.
Lu Qianque immediately dropped the joke and turned to ask Ning Qiuyan, “I heard you can play the guitar.”
Ning Qiuyan didn’t know why he was asking, but he nodded. “I can.”
Lu Qianque said, “It’s my child’s birthday today, but I can’t make it back. He really likes a certain cartoon,” he mentioned a household name, “could you play the theme song for him as a gift?”
That was certainly no problem.
But there was no guitar at hand, so Ning Qiuyan couldn’t play.
As if reading his mind, Lu Qianque smiled. “Come on, let’s go pick out a good guitar.”
Pick a guitar?
Ning Qiuyan was even more confused.
He heard Lu Qianque ask, “Sir, would you like to join us?”
The fire flickered.
Guan Heng propped his fingers against his temple, looking lazy and uninterested. “You two go.”
Lu Qianque nodded, his movements elegant and respectful. “Then I’ll be sure to pick the very best one.” With that, he turned to Ning Qiuyan. “Let’s go, Little Puppy, come with me.”
Ning Qiuyan was caught off guard by the nickname again.
This time, he didn’t dare look at Guan Heng to see if he was laughing, only correcting, “My name is Ning Qiuyan.”
As they walked, Lu Qianque said, “I think it’s very cute.”
Ning Qiuyan replied, “…I don’t think it’s cute. Please don’t call me that.”
Ning Qiuyan was annoyed, forgetting to use honorifics.
The two had already left the room. Lu Qianque walked quickly, paying no mind to Ning Qiuyan’s tone, seemingly eager to pick a guitar, even walking backwards to talk to him. “Oh, I didn’t come up with that nickname. If you want to protest, you’ll have to talk to Dr. Ling.”
Ning Qiuyan: “?”
Dr. Ling?
Lu Qianque was quite an interesting person, instantly familiar and friendly.
He told Ning Qiuyan, “Your name is hard to remember and a bit of a tongue-twister, so thanks to Dr. Ling, we all call you Little Puppy in private now.”
Ning Qiuyan’s face flushed red again.
Could it be that even Guan Heng… Was that the reason for the smile in Guan Heng’s eyes earlier?
Lu Qianque said, “When we first signed the agreement with you, we just thought you were adorably naive, daring to sign something like that. I didn’t expect you to be even cuter in person!”
Ning Qiuyan: “…”
That didn’t sound like a compliment at all.
Lu Qianque winked. “Don’t be upset, I promise we all mean it affectionately! Otherwise, why would sir personally come to fetch you when you got lost? As if if he were a minute late, you’d be torn apart by wild beasts-so dramatic.”
Ning Qiuyan couldn’t find a retort.
Guan Heng coming to get him had indeed made him feel flattered, but because of that secret agreement, he also felt it was only natural.
That was a secret between the two of them, and he certainly wouldn’t tell Lu Qianque.
Ning Qiuyan wasn’t truly angry, but he didn’t like being called Little Puppy.
In many contexts, Little Puppy wasn’t exactly a compliment.
But Lu Qianque was a guest, and Ning Qiuyan didn’t want to argue with him. He secretly resolved that next time he saw Dr. Ling, he would strongly protest and put a stop to this ridiculous nickname at its source.
Lu Qianque was much more familiar with the place than Ning Qiuyan.
He walked so fast that Ning Qiuyan had to quicken his pace as well, following Lu Qianque down the stairs with a thump-thump-thump, all the way to the first floor, to a place he had never entered before.
It was a huge music room, or rather, a showroom. As soon as he entered, Ning Qiuyan was a little stunned.
Guitars, saxophones, harps, violins, cellos, and other Western instruments filled the room, dazzling in their variety. In the center stood a piano, while at the other end were displayed traditional instruments like the guzheng, chime bells, and flutes-some of which Ning Qiuyan couldn’t even name.
He couldn’t help but move his feet, wandering around the room, stunned by these spotless, meticulously maintained, gleaming instruments.
At last, he understood what Uncle Kang meant the last time he brought his guitar to Du Island, when he was told he didn’t need to bring anything at all.
“How about this one?” Lu Qianque casually took down a guitar.
Ning Qiuyan looked at it.
It was just one of the three guitars-a classical guitar, entirely black, with a slightly mottled lacquer finish on the body. He couldn’t tell its origin or story, only that it was extraordinary.
“Or do you want to play another kind?” Lu Qianque asked. “I’m fine with anything.”
Ning Qiuyan took the guitar from Lu Qianque and said, “No, this one is fine.”
They had chosen their instruments.
Ning Qiuyan asked, “Why does Mr. Guan collect so many instruments?”
Lu Qianque replied, “Some he played a long time ago, some were gifts. He’s never lacked these things. But I think it’s been years since he touched them. See, he’d rather let us play than play himself.”
Years?
Ning Qiuyan asked, “Does Mr. Guan not play anymore because he’s ill?”
He stood among the instruments.
His gaze was as innocent as his age, tinged with worry.
“Ill?” Lu Qianque’s smile faded a little. After a pause, he said, “You still don’t know, do you?”
Ning Qiuyan was confused.
He wanted to know about Guan Heng-what illness he had, whether it threatened his life.
Or perhaps, subconsciously, he wanted to know something else, to overturn those increasingly unrealistic suspicions.
But Lu Qianque didn’t continue.
Ning Qiuyan was left without an answer.
Lu Qianque picked up the selected guitar, murmuring, “First time encountering something like this,” then said to Ning Qiuyan, “We’re ready, let’s go upstairs. Mr. Guan is waiting.”
*
They returned to the original room. Sure enough, Guan Heng was still waiting, but he wasn’t sitting; instead, he had found a video camera and tripod, already set up, the lens aimed at the chair the Servant had just brought in.
Ning Qiuyan asked, “We’re recording?”
He had thought they’d just use a phone to record the audio-after all, there was no signal jammer here, and Lu Qianque had managed to send birthday wishes to his child.
He hadn’t expected such a formal setup with a video camera.
“Yes.” Guan Heng finished adjusting the camera. “Come here.”
Ning Qiuyan walked over and stood beside Guan Heng.
Guan Heng looked down at him, realizing he hadn’t understood, and patiently explained, “Sit down and look at the camera.”
Ning Qiuyan said, “Me?”
Guan Heng replied, “Yes, Lu Qianque will be in the shot too.”
Ning Qiuyan could only sit awkwardly in the chair, uneasily facing the camera.
He didn’t like selfies and had never recorded a video of himself, especially not with Guan Heng behind the camera.
Whenever he looked at the lens, he inevitably saw Guan Heng adjusting the equipment.
He saw the man’s strong brow, straight nose, and that faint, inscrutable expression.
Guan Heng was perfect, gentle, powerful.
Aside from the so-called blood disease, there was hardly a flaw to be found.
Lu Qianque’s presence seemed to anchor Guan Heng to reality, making Ning Qiuyan feel that Guan Heng wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
Even so, the mystery surrounding Guan Heng hadn’t diminished in the slightest.
“Ahem.” Lu Qianque coughed lightly.
Ning Qiuyan snapped back to himself.
Guan Heng slowly looked up from behind the camera, shifting his deep gaze from the screen to Ning Qiuyan’s face.
Ambiguity filled the air.
Realizing they’d been staring at each other all along, Ning Qiuyan grew annoyed, his ears burning as he hurriedly broke the inexplicable eye contact.
“Are you ready?” Lu Qianque handed him the guitar. “Do you want to get familiar with it first?”
Ning Qiuyan tuned the guitar and strummed a few chords to show he was ready.
Lu Qianque moved to stand beside him.
The theme song from the cartoon wasn’t childish, and Lu Qianque sang it well. They finished recording in one take.
After playing, Ning Qiuyan’s face grew even hotter.
He heard Guan Heng say, “Play another one.”
Ning Qiuyan looked over, embarrassed, only to see Guan Heng already seated on the chaise, watching them, saying, “The one you played by the lake last time.”
By the lake?
The last time Ning Qiuyan came to Du Island, unable to find a network, he had indeed played guitar by the lake.
How did Guan Heng know?
Had he heard it…
Or had Guan Heng been nearby at the time?
He played the song he’d played several times before, but Guan Heng quickly interrupted him: “Not that one.”
Ning Qiuyan hesitated.
Guan Heng said, “The other one-the one you hummed softly.”
That was Ning Qiuyan’s original composition, played once by the lake, only hummed, with a brief melody before stopping.
Other than his mother, who heard it before she passed away, he had never played it for anyone else. He wrote it during his mother’s illness; it didn’t even have lyrics yet.
Ning Qiuyan nervously bit his lip, his fingers trembling slightly.
This night was nothing like he’d imagined; he was completely unprepared.
Guan Heng’s request felt like he was exercising a natural right.
“Play it for me.”