Luck Ch.14

Chapter 14: “Survival of the Fittest”

The young man was slender, with long bangs hanging over his forehead that partially covered his eyes. His demeanor was especially aloof, like a born artist.

For some reason, upon seeing the boy in front of him, Jiang Chi paused in his steps and hesitated for a moment.

“The canvases are over here.”

A sales representative’s enthusiastic pitch snapped Jiang Chi out of his daze: “Sir, you truly have a discerning eye. Right this way, please.”

The salesperson led Jiang Chi over to where the boy was standing. “The canvases consigned by Sandro Ivedes are in high demand. In all of Wuchuan—no, in the entire South China region—only our gallery carries them. There are three editions: A, B, and C, available in various sizes. Which one would you like?”

Jiang Chi had no clue about oil painting canvases and asked, somewhat bewildered, “Is there any difference between them?”

The salesperson maintained a polite smile: “Edition A has the finest weave, made from fully imported fine-grain linen—ideal for professionals. Edition B uses high-quality mixed medium-grain linen and is also excellent. Edition C is pure cotton, more commonly purchased by beginners.”

Jiang Chi said, “I don’t want the pure cotton one.”

The salesperson nodded: “Of course. Given your status, I recommend Edition A. It performs best for personal use and is also respectable if given as a gift.”

Jiang Chi replied, “Then I’ll take Edition A.”

“Great. Please wait a moment while I get the sales form. You can check off the size you want.”

After the salesperson left, Jiang Chi curiously touched the linen canvas. Even after examining it for a while, he couldn’t tell the difference between Edition A and Edition B.

He sighed and muttered to himself, “They look pretty much the same. What’s the actual difference…”

The boy next to him spoke softly, “Edition A is better for painting people. Edition B is better for landscapes.”

Jiang Chi was briefly stunned—he hadn’t expected the cold-looking boy to take the initiative to talk to him.

Jiang Chi looked at him and asked, “Do you like painting too?”

The boy gave a slight nod. “I do a bit of oil painting. This canvas is quite unique. The fact that you came here just to buy it shows you have a good eye. I’d guess you’re also someone who loves to paint.”

 Jiang Chi turned around with a smile and said, “I have a friend who specializes in oil painting. I wanted to buy some supplies as a gift for him.”

The boy inhaled sharply, and his aloof expression cracked for a brief moment.

He glanced around cautiously, like a wary hamster, and asked in an uncertain tone, “You’re buying them here?”

Jiang Chi looked around as well and instinctively lowered his voice. “Why? Is the stuff here no good?”

The boy’s face returned to its calm expression. “It’s good. Just… expensive.”

Jiang Chi nodded. “I looked online before too, but the prices vary a lot on shopping sites. I was afraid of getting fakes… Aren’t counterfeit paints supposed to be toxic? My friend’s not in great health.”

A hint of surprise appeared on the boy’s face.

As the salesperson had mentioned, Sandro Ivedes’ canvases were indeed in high demand. Usually, only those deeply involved in the oil painting world—and who closely followed professional news—knew that a limited quantity was occasionally sold at exhibitions.

And yet, someone with access to such insider information couldn’t tell genuine supplies from fakes?

Explaining all the details about art materials would take an entire afternoon, and the boy, somewhat socially anxious, didn’t speak further.

After a moment, another salesperson approached, carrying a rolled and wrapped canvas. He nodded to the boy and asked, “Your canvas is packed. Would you like it delivered?”

The boy shook his head, swiped his card to pay, and signed the bank slip. “I’ll take it home myself, thank you.”

The salesperson smiled. “Very well, Sir Ji.”

The boy’s surname is Ji too?

Jiang Chi turned his head slightly, trying to sneak a glance at the name written on the slip.

“Jiang Chi!”

Suddenly, someone called out to him. Jiang Chi instinctively turned around and missed the name “Ji Yu” written on the slip.

Qin Yan pushed open the glass door and walked in quickly.

The salesperson clipped the receipt and sales form together and placed them in an envelope, handing it to Ji Yu. Jiang Chi’s attention had already shifted to Qin Yan and he no longer paid attention to the name signed on the slip.

Jiang Chi pointed to the dazzling array of art supplies in the showroom and said, “You’re finally here. I really don’t know how to choose any of this.”

Choosing canvases was no longer the most important matter. For Qin Yan, there was something far more urgent he needed to handle.

This was the biggest crisis he had faced since returning to the country!

Qin Yan’s gaze passed over Jiang Chi and landed on the boy holding the canvas.

Just moments ago, Qin Yan had learned from his assistant that Ji Yu had also come to see the exhibition.

What were the odds of something like this happening?

Maintaining a calm exterior, Qin Yan let his gaze rest on Ji Yu for half a second—seemingly casual and fleeting. But in that single glance, thanks to his photographic memory, he firmly etched Ji Yu’s appearance into his mind.

So this is the protagonist Jiang Chi has been obsessed with?

Qin Yan shifted his gaze back to Jiang Chi, quietly observing both of their expressions, and silently analyzing: there was a high probability that Ji Yu and Jiang Chi hadn’t exchanged names yet.

Good—Jiang Chi hadn’t realized anything yet.

But the crisis wasn’t fully averted.

Distracted, Qin Yan casually picked out a few art supplies. Each one was placed in the most prominent display areas and was among the most expensive, best-promoted items.

These products came with high commissions, and the salesperson was overjoyed—his smile nearly reached his ears—as he eagerly led Jiang Chi to the checkout counter.

Ji Yu, meanwhile, was speechless. He thought to himself: The first guy who came in didn’t know much, but at least he asked questions. This new one looks just as clueless—and he’s buying things with such confidence.

Could he really be someone who majored in oil painting?

Even a high school art student preparing for entrance exams would know more than these two.

And buying so many canvases…

What a waste.

If only he had the money to buy that many canvases.

Hugging the canvas tightly, Ji Yu walked out of the exhibition hall, heart aching.

Qin Yan watched Ji Yu’s retreating figure. On a strange impulse, he followed behind him out of the shopping gallery.

In the corridor, Qin Yan called out to Ji Yu.

Ji Yu turned back in surprise. “You know me?”

Qin Yan was much taller than Ji Yu. Lowering his gaze slightly, he looked at the boy who was supposed to marry him and asked, “How are you getting home?”

Ji Yu looked thoroughly confused. “Who… are you?”

Qin Yan pulled Ji Yu over behind a Roman column. “I’m Qin Yan.”

Ji Yu’s aloof expression instantly cracked again. He subconsciously stepped half a pace back. “President Qin?”

How could that possibly be President Qin?

How could President Qin be this young—and this good-looking?

He had to be a scammer. Definitely a scammer.

Qin Yan seemed to read Ji Yu’s thoughts. He pulled out his phone and sent a WeChat message to verify his identity.

At that moment, Ji Yu’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He took it out and saw:

[Qin Yan: I’m Qin Yan.]

It was as if a typhoon had swept through Ji Yu’s mind—utter chaos. He snapped his head up in shock.

Qin Yan held up his phone like a Hong Kong police officer showing his ID, practically shoving the screen into Ji Yu’s face. “Any further questions?”

The phone screen was paused on the WeChat interface, showing the conversation thread with Ji Yu.

Ji Yu’s eyes widened in fear, his entire worldview crumbling. His body leaned backward instinctively.

He pressed against the wall, his voice trembling slightly. “President Qin… do you have any instructions?”

Qin Yan found the situation a little funny.

Ji Yu had unexpectedly shown up in front of Jiang Chi, and logically, he should’ve been the nervous one. Yet it was Ji Yu who looked far more flustered.

Qin Yan asked him, “That man just now—does he know who you are?”

Ji Yu hesitated for half a second. “Who? The one buying the canvas?”

Qin Yan nodded. “Did he talk to you?”

“I didn’t say much to him…” Ji Yu’s imagination seemed to be spiraling. He looked extremely anxious and hurriedly recounted everything that had happened with Jiang Chi, desperately trying to prove his innocence: “I didn’t know he was one of your people! I won’t talk to him again!”

The phrase “your people” came out of nowhere—odd and inexplicable—but somehow, it sounded strangely pleasing.

Qin Yan gave a satisfied “Mm”: “From now on, don’t appear in front of him. And if you go out, you need to report it.”

Ji Yu looked alarmed, afraid that if Qin Yan got upset, he’d forbid him from going out altogether. He quickly clarified, “I told Secretary Zhang, President Qin!”

“From now on, report directly to me,” Qin Yan said with no particular expression. “Head home for now. I’ll have a car pick you up.”

Ji Yu was overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness. “Thank you, President Qin… Oh, right—about the noodles I made the other day—what did you think?”

To be honest, Qin Yan thought the noodles were just average. But Jiang Chi had insisted they were delicious. Either way, Qin Yan certainly hadn’t tasted any so-called “taste of home.”

So, Qin Yan gave a summary of both perspectives: “They were okay. Not as good as I imagined.”

Ji Yu: “……”

Ten thousand grass mud horses thundered through Ji Yu’s heart. He practically turned into a walking bullet screen, with a million things he wanted to rant about.

What’s there to imagine? It’s just a bowl of noodles—how good could it possibly be?! It’s just noodles, and it was delivered, probably all clumped together by the time it arrived! Don’t set your expectations so high and you won’t be disappointed, President Qin!!!

Do you not understand the concept that the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment?!

Even though his inner monologue was overflowing with complaints, Ji Yu didn’t dare voice a single one. Instead, he sucked up with a flattering smile: “I’ll practice my cooking more when I get back.”

Qin Yan, expressionless, gave a slight nod: “Go practice.”

Ji Yu: “…Alright, President Qin.”

Qin Yan glanced at his watch. “If you show up somewhere you shouldn’t be again…”

Ji Yu looked up at him, pitifully, his big dark eyes almost brimming with tears, as if he might start crying at any second.

Qin Yan: “……”

He really couldn’t imagine what would happen if he made Ji Yu cry here—and Jiang Chi found out.

The words “then just don’t go out anymore” circled in Qin Yan’s mouth, but in the end, he didn’t say them.

After all, if it were Jiang Chi, he definitely wouldn’t make things this hard for Ji Yu.

Qin Yan switched to a milder threat and warned: “If you show up somewhere you shouldn’t again, I’ll confiscate one of your canvases.”

Ji Yu looked like a startled rabbit, his back pressed tightly against the wall, hugging his canvas like a lifeline. His eyes went slightly blank, as if the person standing in front of him wasn’t a billionaire CEO, but some unreasonable bandit thug.

Ji Yu pleaded bitterly: “President Qin, I bought full-size canvases—they haven’t even been cut yet. I only have three in total!”

Qin Yan said coldly: “Then you should treasure your opportunities more.”

Ji Yu: “……”

*

《Ji Yu’s Diary》 —

July 15, 20XX, Light Rain

Heavy rain today. An inauspicious day for everything!

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to run into the legendary President Qin at the Sandro painting exhibition!

President Qin is actually so young—he looks like the most popular senior at a university, completely different from the domineering CEO I’d imagined!

His features are ridiculously proportioned—his facial structure is textbook perfect, better than any sketch model I’ve seen. That jawline is clean and sharp, and his head-to-body ratio is flawless. Head, neck, shoulders, waist, hips, and legs come together to form a silhouette so perfect it should be sculpted into a statue for public admiration.

But… he seems kind of scary. And he even scolded me for showing up at the art exhibition.

I’m a fine arts student majoring in oil painting—is it weird for me to be at an oil painting exhibition? If anything, he’s the one who’s out of place! And that other handsome guy he was with bought a bunch of overpriced art supplies—my heart aches for his wallet.

President Qin warned me not to show my face in front of that guy again, or he’d confiscate my canvas.

Sure, he said canvas—but I feel like what he really wants is my life.

If that guy sees me again, I’m pretty sure President Qin will kill me!

Because of this whole “must not be seen” situation, I’ve decided to call that guy Medusa.

I suspect… Medusa is actually the person Qin Yan was supposed to marry but ran away from.

It all makes sense now.

Technically, President Qin and I are still in a betrothal arrangement, but it’s clear that he and Medusa are the real pair. That’s why he doesn’t want Medusa to ever see me.

Oh my god, I think I’ve just uncovered a huge secret.

Please, President Qin, don’t kill me to keep it quiet—I swear I won’t tell a soul.

*

Through his brief interaction with Ji Yu, Qin Yan discovered that although Ji Yu appeared calm and aloof on the surface, he was actually quite timid.

He often seemed to be lost in his own world, with an unfocused gaze. His face carried a multitude of shifting expressions, like he was constantly imagining something in his head.

Qin Yan really couldn’t understand how Jiang Chi could possibly confuse him with Ji Yu.

It seemed that the novel Jiang Chi had read didn’t align closely with reality.

He remembered Jiang Chi had mentioned that he would fall in love with Ji Yu at first sight.

Although Qin Yan was skeptical about this so-called “original novel” Jiang Chi referred to, he still consciously tried to avoid meeting Ji Yu.

What if he did fall in love at first sight?

He didn’t want to suddenly lose his mind over a spontaneous romance and turn into the gloomy, paranoid scumbag from the novel.

But today, when Qin Yan saw Ji Yu, the only thing he felt was nervousness about Jiang Chi discovering his identity—there was no other emotion at all.

So, that “original novel” that Jiang Chi treated like sacred scripture wasn’t unchangeable after all.

Of course it wasn’t.

From the moment Jiang Chi appeared out of nowhere backstage at the wedding, the overture of fate had gained a new melody, veering off its original course.

It was still raining outside. After returning to the apartment, Jiang Chi drove straight into the underground parking lot.

While waiting for the elevator, Jiang Chi faintly heard some strange sounds.

Whimpering… chirping… It sounded like the wind, or maybe a cat…

Or even a baby crying.

The voice-activated sensor light suddenly went out, leaving only the glowing green emergency exit sign, which looked particularly eerie.

Jiang Chi instinctively grabbed Qin Yan’s arm.

Qin Yan, still caught up in thoughts about the book-transmigration situation, was startled. “What’s wrong?”

Jiang Chi pretended to stay calm and stomped his foot to trigger the sensor light. “Nothing.”

Qin Yan then remembered, “Oh right, you’re afraid of the dark.”

Jiang Chi clenched the sleeve in his hand. “I’m not that scared… Did you hear something?”

Qin Yan tilted his head to listen. “Some kind of animal call. Maybe a cat.”

The moment he heard it might be a cat, Jiang Chi’s courage instantly returned.

Cats could give humans infinite bravery.

He followed the sound, listening as he walked. Eventually, he stopped at a corner near the emergency staircase and looked up at the ceiling.

Rustle rustle. Up close, it sounded like soft squeaks and scrapes—maybe a kitten, or possibly a squirrel or hedgehog.

Jiang Chi said, “It’s above us.”

Qin Yan looked up and responded, “Mm, sounds like a cat might be stuck in the ventilation duct.”

Jiang Chi listened carefully for a while, trying to pinpoint exactly where the sound was coming from.

Just then, the elevator chimed: “Elevator arriving at B1.”

Qin Yan said, “The elevator’s here. Let’s go.”

Jiang Chi turned around, looking at Qin Yan in shock. “There’s a cat trapped in the emergency piping, and you’re saying ‘let’s go’?”

Qin Yan looked slightly puzzled, unsure why Jiang Chi was so surprised. He asked politely, “What should I have said?”

Jiang Chi guided him patiently, “When we encounter someone who needs help, we should…”

Qin Yan replied, “Offer assistance.”

Jiang Chi snapped his fingers. “Exactly! So now we should…?”

But Qin Yan didn’t follow his logic. He calmly countered, “But it’s not a person.”

Jiang Chi’s expression turned serious as he stared at Qin Yan. “We should have reverence for all living beings. If you were that trapped cat, wouldn’t you hope some kind-hearted human would come help you?”

Qin Yan lowered his gaze, thinking for a moment. A few seconds later, he answered with four words: “Survival of the fittest.”

Jiang Chi’s blood pressure spiked on the spot.

Completely immune to reason!

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, but Jiang Chi found that “Ji Yu” was far too indifferent.

He never paid attention to anything that wasn’t strictly necessary—aloof and detached, with minimal connection to the world, drifting outside all forms of intimacy.

In the novel, Ji Yu disappeared for two whole years, and no one even noticed.

Jiang Chi tried to awaken Ji Yu’s awareness of the world, to help him form ties with his surroundings. That way, even if one day Jiang Chi was no longer around, if something happened to Ji Yu, someone would notice.

Mutual assistance was a reliable way to build positive relationships. Unfortunately, they had a major difference in how they understood the idea of “help.” Maybe, for Ji Yu, just taking care of himself was already a heavy enough burden—he simply didn’t have the mental energy to care about others or anything else.

After a moment of silence, Jiang Chi asked Qin Yan, “If I were trapped in a cave and couldn’t get out, would you also say it’s ‘survival of the fittest’?”

Qin Yan looked deeply at Jiang Chi, said nothing, and turned to leave—leaving behind nothing but an ice-cold silhouette.

In that instant, Jiang Chi finally understood what the novel’s male lead had felt.

In the original story, the protagonist had accused Ji Yu of being “an ice that won’t melt,” “completely devoid of human emotion,” “like the moon—beautiful but untouchable.”

Jiang Chi let out a sigh.

Even someone as emotionally steady as him couldn’t help but feel a sharp sense of defeat.

Qin Yan had left far too decisively.

But more than disappointment, Jiang Chi felt helpless.

A leopard doesn’t change its spots. In the original story, the protagonist and Ji Yu had been entangled for years, and neither of them had ever truly changed. Jiang Chi had only known this “Ji Yu” for a short time—how could he hope to change the habits and personality shaped by a lifetime?

Forget it. One step at a time. Let’s save the cat first. Everything else can wait till they’re home.

Jiang Chi drooped his head, utterly dejected.

Who would’ve thought—when Jiang Chi turned around, he saw Qin Yan had come back!

Qin Yan stood silently at the stairwell, holding a folding ladder with one hand.

Jiang Chi: “!!!!”

So Qin Yan hadn’t stormed off in anger—he’d gone to get a ladder!

In an instant, Jiang Chi’s mood flipped from gloom to sunshine.

Who said his Ji Yu was a block of ice? It’s only a useless protagonist who couldn’t melt him!

Look, look—didn’t Ji Yu come back with a ladder to rescue the kitten?

In contrast to Jiang Chi’s joy, Qin Yan’s expression was dark. For once, his emotions were written plainly on his face.

He walked over, shoved Jiang Chi aside, and—seemingly angry at someone, though it was unclear who—unfolded the ladder with great force and started climbing it.

Qin Yan was deeply unsettled.

Just now, the principle of “survival of the fittest” had collided with the assumption that this was Jiang Chi—forcing him to make a choice.

On one hand was a well-established, thoroughly proven biological theory. On the other hand, a completely illogical, utterly impossible premise. Any rational person would know which to choose.

And yet, Qin Yan had gone against the 100% correct answer… and chosen the impossible one.

Even with all his accumulated knowledge, he couldn’t explain why.

It was absurd—something so absurd had never happened in his life before. And yet, when it happened, it felt so natural, so inevitable, like it was always meant to be.

In a state of complete rationality, he had yielded to some nameless, unknowable force.

Order was crumbling.

He had betrayed the logic and composure he once took pride in.

The feeling wasn’t pleasant—it was like swimming against a current, or falling into an abyss.

Qin Yan silently lifted the ceiling panel and casually tossed it to the ground.

Dust cascaded down.

Jiang Chi covered his mouth and nose, coughing from the dust, and steadied himself on the ladder with one hand. “Slow down.”

With his face covered in years of accumulated dust, Qin Yan’s mood soured even further.

He held his breath, using the light from his phone to slowly shine it toward the dark, gaping vent.

Unfortunately, it was too dark, and he couldn’t make out anything inside.

Qin Yan stared into the unknown darkness, his voice cold. “Jiang Chi, get out.”

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