"Because this is an amazing opportunity," he answered. "You and that Young Master Li were... close once. Now you have a chance to work together again. Think of it as taking back control of the story. The narrative, if you may. Whatever happened before, now you can set the stage your way. And the entire art scene will be watching."

The words "entire art scene" curled around Xu Jinli like incense smoke, dangerous but intoxicating. 

And just as usual, Zhao Feng was the perfect puppeteer. From behind his desk, he watched Xu Jinli as he struggled to come to a decision, knowing very well that his words had worked. For Little Xu, the spotlight was his oxygen. For as long as he could remember, he had run and chased it, even when it meant running himself dry. 

From the moment his eyes opened in the morning to the one his head rested on his pillow, Xu Jinli only lived for the stage. He craved it, feeding on standing ovations to find validation, giving his life meaning, and his existence a purpose. 

And yet, the idea of sharing his beloved stage with Li Zhen still made his stomach knot.

“You’re telling me this is my chance for revenge?”

“I’m telling you,” Dean Zhao said with a knowing smile, “that this is your chance for whatever you want it to be. Revenge, redemption, or simply putting him in a role where you hold the script.”

Those words painted a delicious image inside Xu Jinli's mind: having the silent and stoic Li Zhen completely under his control, just like Teacher Shen promised as well. He could stage his every movement, with every reaction falling exactly where Xu Jinli wanted it to be. No more uncertainty, no more confusion, just what he desired the most: a well-written script that he already knew by heart. And yet… somewhere inside, a different, softer picture itched to surface: Li Zhen’s eyes following him in the candlelight, the faint press of their knees when he sat on that precarious armchair...

...But that was an image that Xu Jinli was oh-so eager to quickly shove back right where it came from.

Dean Zhao must have seen the hesitation in his eyes because his tone of voice suddenly shifted, sounding like that of a concerned father. “But if you’re not comfortable," he started, "truly not comfortable, then we could always assign someone else. It's not like an official statement must be written in stone. We just wanted to pressure you to make a decision, but you know, I would never force you if it proves to be... painful." 

Xu Jinli scoffed, a sharp smile masking the heat creeping up his neck. "You say that like I'm made of porcelain."

"Please," Dean Zhao rolled his eyes before answering with a little chuckle. "If you're porcelain, you must be a shard stuck in my right foot! Pretty, yes, but sharp. Hurting, and digging deeper with every step I take."

Xu Jinli laughed, a light and theatrical sound that still carried a slight tremor. "You flatter me," he answered.

"I'm just being honest."

The office fell into a beat of silence as Xu Jinli's fingers tightened around his cup. His eyes seemed lost for a second, only to suddenly focus on the small stain of coffee left on his right cuff. Such a disgrace, he thought. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. 

Thump... Thump...

In between the silent walls of the office, that was the only thing that seemed real to him. The sound of his own heart struggling to rip through his chest, and that small, light brown stain on his cuff.

The thought of working with Li Zhen still rattled him, but the stage was right there, waiting. When Teacher Shen stormed over with that weird proposal of hers, he just played along for his amusement, and for the brief chance to tease that man once more. Therefore, everything that followed was nothing but a pretext. 

A pretext to play a situation he had fantasized about for years, a pretext to don a beautiful dress and step on the stage once more, showing his most exquisitely crafted character to the only audience that ever mattered to him, even a pretext to...

...To once again be alone with that man in the dead of night.

But not once had he taken it seriously.

Not once had he truly believed in his ability to swallow the past and embrace a future that he was part of, even if it only meant that their paths were just briefly intersecting before separating once more. But in the end, it all came down to the fact that Xu Jinli wasn't confident. He wasn't confident that he could perfectly play his part until the end of the performance, only to let him go once more after the curtain fell, nor was he confident that Li Zhen would approve of what he had become, and find him worthy of sharing his art with.

And yet, he had never been able to resist stepping into the light. That night, when he climbed the stage and felt that pair of green eyes watching him from the doorstep, the question he asked wasn't only for Li Zhen's ears.

Do you see it now?

That was very much an inquiry for himself as well, since he finally caught a glimpse of what he had lost years before, inviting him to reach out his hand and grab it.

“Fine,” Xu Jinli said. “I’ll do it. But not for you, and not for the university.”

“For the audience?”

“For the audience,” Xu Jinli agreed, smiling like a fox already rehearsing its next trick. “And maybe a little for myself.”

....................

In the farthest corner of the campus, there was a concrete building belonging to the Sculpting Department. It had high windows and an open staircase, leading to a covered vaulted veranda that overlooked a pedestrian art street. During graduation season, it became an exhibition hall, housing student installations and sculptural showcases. But now, at the beginning of the semester, the ample studios and skylit workshops inside were mostly empty, except for a few closed doors that seemed to be slightly more alive. 

Behind such a door, a chisel moved without purpose, each strike marking more a mistake than the act of creation. From beneath Li Zhen's hands, dust curled away in fine particles of glitter, falling soundlessly over his boots.

And yet, the stone died a bit more with each strike, instead of coming to life. 

The block of marble didn’t know what it was becoming, and neither did he. There was no shape in Li Zhen's head, no vision to follow, just the repetitive motion, like an instinct drilled into his hands long before his mind caught up. The small studio smelled of plaster and dry wood, the air thick with the soft thud of tools. It was a rhythmic sound that usually calmed him, bringing him endless comfort in the nights when nothing else seemed to be under his control. 

But tonight, it only acted like ambient background sound, circling his thoughts back and forth around the same point: Xu Jinli’s hand on his face... the soft pads of his fingers pressing his jaw just enough to make him tilt his head back... the faint scrape of nails against his skin... the scent of cherry liquor that was close enough to taste... the way the cold, black silk of his gown had brushed against his knees. 

The scenes from the night before revolved in his mind like the faint shadows left behind a carousel, painting the back of his eyelids in countless colours and shapes he couldn't make sense of. 

The chisel caught on a slightly harder vein of stone, almost jumping from his hand and jolting his wrist. Li Zhen set it down with a confused look in between his eyebrows, flexing his fingers once more before resting both palms flat on the cool workbench. As he was still staring at the marble, the phone next to it started ringing.

Father. 

The name lit up the screen in clean, black text, and for a brief, treacherous second, Li Zhen considered letting it ring out. But he knew damn well that not answering would only make it worse...

...So he pressed the cold phone to his ear.

“Zhen,” Li Minghua’s voice was deep, precise, and heavy with the weight of inherited authority. “I heard the university approved your participation in this year's gala. This is your final chance to remind everyone why you carry the Li surname. Don’t disappoint me this time.”

The words rasped against his ear like the scrape of a chisel on stone, and unbidden, tangled with them came the ghost of Xu Jinli’s voice from the night before, warm with mischief: 

Darling, you just have to bring the slab of stone. I’ll take care of everything else.

Li Zhen’s jaw tightened as he answered: “…I’ll do my best.”

“Not your best. The best. Do you understand? The university, your family, the press, everyone will be watching. How hard can it be to produce satisfactory work at that level?”

"..."

"Show them why I allowed you to come back this time. And show me that you're still worthy of being the Young Master of this family."

Just as usual, the call ended with a sharp click, devoid of any goodbye, and the silence that followed landed heavier than the stone dust drifting through the air. Li Zhen let the phone slide from his palm back onto the workbench, the sound of it barely louder than his own breathing. He flexed his hand once more before picking up the chisel, only to pause halfway. The marble sat before him, raw and untouched except for the shallow scars he’d already cut into it, marks that went nowhere.

Like a path ending in front of a cliff.

Li Zhen stared at the stone he had killed with his own hands, as fine particles of dust slowly scattered around its base like pure, white snow. 

This is normal, he thought. 

Everything was normal. 

The studio around him was the place he found the most solace in, the slab of marble under his hands was nothing out of the ordinary, and even the weight in his chest was familiar.

The pressure to deliver, to meet a standard set before he was even born.

But layered beneath it, like a fine, almost imperceptible red thread that tugged at the tip of his heart, was another pressure entirely: the thought of Xu Jinli’s expectant gaze. The way his words about the gala had been tossed like a challenge. 

I want it to be big. Monumental.

So for a moment, he didn’t know which expectation was harder to bear. 

His father’s, or Xu Jinli’s.

But while Li Minghua’s expectations had always been a rusty chain coiling tighter and tighter around his neck, Xu Jinli’s were something else entirely. As the heavy and familiar bonds dragged him where he was told to go, Xu Jinli's eyes only lit sparks on his road, illuminating in vivid colours paths he never dared to even look straight at.  

But in the end, he also didn't know which one was harder to fulfil, or if he could even fulfil any of them at all.

All he knew was that somehow, he wanted to meet both... 

...Even if he didn’t understand why.

And yet, one thing was for sure.

Stone couldn’t be carved in two directions at once without breaking into pieces.