Singlehood Syndrome

The two of them returned to their respective rooms, and Xiang Mo had a feeling that Du Chi actually understood everything and was intentionally being mischievous.

It was like Sanmao, who knew he couldn’t be mischievous with Sanmei, but since the punishment was not severe, he would still act mischievous. Du Chi seemed to be doing the same thing; he knew he could get away with it.

There are all kinds of owners for different kinds of dogs.

Being bitten by a dog for no reason, anyone would feel as if they were cursed.

However… Du Chi’s kissing skills seemed quite good.

The warmth of their lips and the soft yet assertive touch lingered on Xiang Mo’s lips. His gaze unconsciously drifted towards the desk, where he had impulsively drawn a picture of Du Chi’s neck and Adam’s apple. He hadn’t planned to continue the drawing, but after some hesitation, he picked up a pencil and outlined the contour of his jawline and lips.

Even though he didn’t have the actual subject in front of him, sketching was still challenging. But Du Chi’s lips were so vivid, forming a clear picture in Xiang Mo’s mind.

He outlined the lip peaks, deepened the shadows of the corners of the lips, and brought the three-dimensional lips to life on paper.

Suddenly, the footsteps of Du Chi coming downstairs to take a shower were heard outside. Startled, Xiang Mo quickly flipped the paper over. However, after the scare, he felt annoyed with himself for acting so guilty. Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong?

The next day was the weekend, and Xiang Mo, who rarely slept well, was awakened by the aroma of food early in the morning.

With sleepy eyes, he went to the kitchen and saw Du Chi wearing an apron, holding a frying pan, skillfully preparing toast. The fragrance of butter filled the entire kitchen, like an irresistible attack of deliciousness, triggering Xiang Mo’s hunger signals.

“Morning, artist,” Du Chi turned around and greeted Xiang Mo.

His tone was extremely casual, as if nothing had happened last night. Frankly speaking, Xiang Mo appreciated Du Chi’s attitude and also hoped to treat it as if nothing happened, so as not to affect their lives. After all, they were neighbors, and he didn’t want their relationship to become awkward.

But the problem was Du Chi’s way of addressing him.

The three words “artist” seemed to have become Du Chi’s teasing nickname for Xiang Mo. Whenever Du Chi said those three words, they held more than just their literal meaning.

Last night, after Xiang Mo pushed Du Chi away, he said that artists shouldn’t act like that. Although Du Chi seemed to have brushed it off and didn’t take it seriously, he continued to call Xiang Mo “artist,” as if he were scratching an itch.

Xiang Mo felt that Du Chi was scratching him, scratching him where it didn’t hurt enough to retaliate.

If he minded, he would seem petty; if he didn’t, Du Chi might intensify the teasing.

As Xiang Mo hesitated whether to tell Du Chi to stop calling him “artist,” he suddenly heard a creaking sound of footsteps behind him.

Du Chi was the first to notice the person behind Xiang Mo. He quickly put away his playful expression and asked, sounding normal, “Can we have sandwiches for breakfast?”

Zhao Xiaoqiao walked into the kitchen with some restraint and said, “Sure.”

Now Xiang Mo was even more certain of his thoughts. Du Chi could speak normally in front of others, but he insisted on teasing him.

“What about Teacher Xiang?” Du Chi looked at Xiang Mo again, using a more serious title this time.

He was acting more reserved in front of others, showing that he hadn’t totally lost himself.

Although breakfast wasn’t part of their plan, free food was not to be missed. Xiang Mo politely replied, “Sure, thanks.”

After speaking, he looked at Zhao Xiaoqiao and hesitated for a moment. With a meaningful look, he asked, “Did you finish your homework last night?”

After all, he had promised Master Zhao to look after Zhao Xiaoqiao, and now was a critical time for her during her college entrance examination preparation. If anything went wrong at this time, Xiang Mo wouldn’t be able to bear the responsibility.

Zhao Xiaoqiao seemed to have caught the implication in Xiang Mo’s words. Her face showed no expression as she nodded and replied, “Yes, I finished it.”

In the afternoon, it was the advanced sketching class again, and Lao Li was the model.

Different from the past, today Lao Li came with a solid wood cane in his hand. The rosewood color of the cane matched his tie, indicating careful coordination. If it weren’t for Lao Li’s slightly unsteady gait, Xiang Mo would have thought the cane was just an accessory.

“Do you know how funny he is?” Lao Zhang said to Xiang Mo, following Lao Li. “Playing chess with young people, he got so mad he ended up in the hospital.”

Both Lao Li and Lao Zhang were competitive, and the fact that Lao Li got so mad he ended up in the hospital didn’t surprise Xiang Mo at all. He helped Lao Li to sit on the wicker chair in the courtyard and asked, “Don’t you think you should go back and rest?”

“No need, it’s nothing!” Lao Li waved his hand, putting the cane aside. “Lao Zhang said he wanted to draw me today. I want to see how skilled he is.”

Xiang Mo looked surprised at Lao Zhang, who was standing nearby. “You can draw too?”

“Of course,” Lao Zhang said proudly, raising his chin. “When I was studying abroad, I had exposure to Western art.”

“You’re just boasting,” Lao Li said with disdain. “Prove it by drawing.”

“I never boast. Mrs. Wu from the street next door even wanted me to draw her portrait, but I declined.”

“I bet you can’t draw. You’re just afraid I’ll die and you won’t be able to continue.”

“…”

Seeing the two grandpas starting to argue again, Xiang Mo quickly intervened and arranged a seat for Lao Zhang.

Lao Zhang wanted to do an oil painting, and it seemed like he had some foundation in it. After preparing the necessary materials for him, Xiang Mo left him to his work.

Soon, the students began to arrive one by one, but there were noticeably fewer students than last week. Normally, Xiang Mo could handle the class by himself, but Meng Yun still came to the studio. She made herself a cup of coffee and leisurely sat in one corner of the courtyard, treating the place like a cafe and enjoying her weekend.

“They’re all waiting for tomorrow,” Meng Yun sipped her coffee, leaning back comfortably in her chair. “They want to see our ‘Master’s wife.'”

The two grandpas were bickering with each other, and the students behind their easels were focused on their paintings, not paying attention to Meng Yun and Xiang Mo’s conversation.

“Master’s wife?” Xiang Mo was puzzled.

“He’s already called you that, so why deny it?” Meng Yun said with a look of understanding.

It turned out they were talking about Du Chi, who would be the model for tomorrow’s sketching class.

The story about the bun and ponytail had already been shared in the group chat. Xiang Mo couldn’t be bothered to explain, but hearing the term “Master’s wife” made him chuckle.

The person upstairs probably doesn’t like being called that.

Du Chi suddenly appeared in the courtyard with his canvas bag, probably going to the bookstore again.

Usually, when Xiang Mo and Du Chi bumped into each other in the house, one of them would greet the other. But today, as soon as Du Chi stepped out of the house, his attention was drawn to Lao Zhang’s canvas. He went straight to Lao Zhang and looked at Lao Li before pointing at the canvas, gesturing, “Can you emphasize this part?”

“How do I emphasize it?” Lao Zhang stopped painting and looked at Du Chi.

“Like this.” Du Chi took the paintbrush from Lao Zhang’s hand and made a couple of strokes on the canvas. “Does it look more like this?”

“Amazing!” Lao Zhang’s eyes lit up, giving Du Chi a thumbs-up. “Incredible!”

On the other side, Lao Li stretched his neck curiously. “What about my painting?”

Curious as well, Xiang Mo walked over to Lao Zhang’s easel. What he saw was an abstract oil painting that was even more abstract than Picasso’s style; you couldn’t even make out where the eyes, nose, and mouth were.

“Great job, Lao Zhang,” Du Chi complimented, giving Lao Zhang a thumbs-up. “You’ve captured the essence.”

What essence?

Xiang Mo didn’t understand at all. As he was about to urge Du Chi to stop interfering with his class, the cheers erupted from the Eight Jin Restaurant across the street. Everyone turned their heads to see what was happening, and through the open courtyard door, Xiang Mo saw Luo Yang running out of the restaurant, shouting excitedly to curious neighbors, “We got a Michelin recommendation!”

Xiang Mo didn’t understand what he said, but Du Chi explained, “Michelin recommended the restaurant.”

Then Du Chi’s gaze returned to Xiang Mo as he said, “He made it.”

In a daze, Xiang Mo recalled Luo Yang’s dream he mentioned before. He had thought that Michelin would be an unattainable goal, but unexpectedly, Luo Yang turned his dream into reality.

Through the street, Xiang Mo could feel Luo Yang’s joy, like a refreshing breeze that swept through the entire street, spreading happiness to every corner.
Every ordinary person has an extraordinary side, and Xiang Mo couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of Luo Yang.

Not for achieving the Michelin recommendation, but for having his efforts recognized.

Du Chi had once asked Xiang Mo why he no longer held exhibitions, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He was just afraid of stirring up ripples in his peaceful life. In the end, he was still running away.

“I envy him a little,” Xiang Mo confessed.

Du Chi’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear. If it weren’t for the fact that Xiang Mo knew he didn’t speak, he would have thought he was the one who said that.

“Everyone needs recognition, don’t they?” Du Chi smiled lightly, answering himself nonchalantly.

The atmosphere seemed a bit strange. Changing the topic, Du Chi asked in a casual tone, “What do you want to eat for dinner tonight? I’ll buy groceries on my way back.”

Xiang Mo didn’t have anything particular in mind, but thinking about Luo Yang’s restaurant specializing in seafood, he replied, “I feel like having fish.”

A familiar teasing smile appeared on Du Chi’s lips. “Does the artist want to go fishing again?”

Xiang Mo: “Silence could kill you.”