Unexpected Moment (2)

Just as Jiang Yanxu reached for the lock on his bedroom door, a voice interrupted him from behind.

"President Jiang, Director Zhang just emailed me. He said someone was looking for you."

Jiang Yanxu barely acknowledged his assistant's presence until now. He turned around, brows furrowed.

"Who?"

Song Yuhang hesitated before shaking his head. "Director Zhang didn't recognize him. He said the guy just asked about you and then left."

Jiang Yanxu let out a slow, knowing exhale, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "It must be Yufan."

"But, sir .…" Song Yuhang's voice dropped to a cautious whisper. "This feels suspicious. One of our subordinates discovered an attempted breach into the company email. It could be one of your father's rivals."

Jiang Yanxu pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a breath laced with irritation. "If it were the Song family's lackeys, they wouldn't dare confront me. Spying me? Heh, chicken. Meeting me face-to-face? Not in a million years."

His words rang with such certainty that Song Yuhang could only nod in agreement.

Sensing his assistant's concern, Jiang Yanxu clamped a firm hand on his shoulder. "The Song family is irrelevant as long as they don't cross the line."

He was about to walk away when something struck him. He turned back abruptly, eyes sharp. "Where's the document?"

Song Yutong blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Which document, sir?"

"The one my father left for the Yan Family," Jiang Yanxu clarified, his voice taut with urgency.

Realization dawned on Song Yutong's face. "Lawyer Wen has it, sir. He'll hand it over once you've spoken with the Yan Family."

Jiang Yanxu's jaw tightened. His distrust of Wen Jie was absolute. The man had once backed Tang Shilin in the attempt to strip him of his inheritance. Now, the thought of Wen Jie holding something so crucial made his stomach churn with unease.

"Contact Liang Mingcao. I want him to keep it for me," he ordered, his tone firm.

"I can talk to him when we return, sir," Song Yuhang responded immediately.

Jiang Yanxu narrowed his eyes. "Why not now?"

"I could, but wouldn't it be better to discuss it in person? Besides, Lawyer Wen was appointed by your father," Song Yuhang reasoned.

Jiang Yanxu exhaled sharply, considering the logic. After a pause, he relented. "Fine. I'll leave it to you."

"You can count on me, sir."

Jiang Yanxu smirked, pleased with the response. "Then take your time. Enjoy yourself while we're here."

Song Yuhang chuckled. "Of course—so long as we're not in the office."

With that, Jiang Yanxu left, heading toward the nearest train station. Thanks to some helpful locals, he arrived just fifteen minutes before departure.

The journey wasn't unpleasant. The train hummed steadily along the tracks, carrying him through sprawling countryside and glimpses of ancient architecture. The view outside was a masterpiece in itself—golden fields stretching endlessly, hills rolling in the distance, rivers glistening under the midday sun.

For three hours, he watched, his thoughts drifting somewhere far beyond the scenery.

By the time he arrived, his focus had sharpened. He wasted no time heading to the Uffizi Gallery, weaving through cobblestone streets, his steps swift and purposeful.

Yet, upon reaching the gallery, there was no sign of Wen Haoyi.

A sigh left his lips. He checked his watch before finally deciding to enter.

The moment he stepped inside, his breath hitched.

The air was thick with the scent of aged paint and polished wood. Canvases stretched across towering walls, each one telling a silent story in a language of colors and textures.

He had never cared for art. Paintings had always been lifeless things to him—especially his paintings.

Yan An's paintings.

Jiang Yanxu hated them.

Or at least, he used to.

But now, standing here, surrounded by centuries of masterpieces, something in his chest tightened.

He wandered the halls, drawn like a phantom to a massive oil painting. The figures within it—royal women draped in silk, warriors clutching spears—didn't speak of chaos. They exuded something else entirely. Exhilaration.

For a long moment, he stared, trying to grasp its meaning.

But then—

Something shifted.

A strange sensation curled at the nape of his neck, a whisper of intuition.

He turned his head, and in that instant, the world stopped.

His breath locked in his throat.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

Everything—every sound, every movement—blurred into a muffled hum as his gaze landed on a single figure in the distance.

His pulse roared in his ears. His vision tunneled.

There.

Standing among the paintings, staring at a canvas with quiet contemplation—was him.

Yan An.

Jiang Yanxu's entire being seized. His lungs refused to draw breath. His hands, trembling at his sides, curled into fists.

It had been so long. Too long.

And yet, in this moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Shock rippled through him, followed by an overwhelming rush of something he couldn't name. A hurricane of emotions crashed against his ribs—disbelief, elation, trepidation—twisting into a tight knot in his chest.

He wanted to move.

His body screamed at him to close the distance, to reach out—to make sure Yan An was real and not some cruel illusion his mind had conjured in longing.

But just as he took a step forward, another figure approached Yan An.

Jiang Yanxu froze.

His throat ran dry. His stomach twisted.

Yan An turned to the newcomer, exchanging a few words before moving toward another painting.

Jiang Yanxu stood rooted to the floor.

He watched.

And with every step Yan An took away from him, something inside him cracked.

Doubt seeped in like poison.

What if Yan An didn't want to see him?

Jiang Yanxu clenched his jaw, his pulse erratic. The idea of it—of being nothing but a ghost of the past to Yan An—made his breath come in shallow bursts.

But then—

No.

He inhaled sharply, steeling himself.

He had spent years chasing shadows, running from the things he should have faced. Not this time. Not now.

With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders.

Then, step by step, he started moving toward Yan An.