Reverse Domestication chapter 61

No one in this world can dislike you

So that’s how it is, Lu Ye thought.

In that moment, Lu Ye recalled many things he had deliberately ignored—Qi Yanbai’s superb cooking skills but unfamiliar techniques, the brand new kitchenware he brought when they moved. Back then, Lu Ye thought of him as clean and refined, but now he realized that Qi Yanbai didn’t cook often for himself; maybe even his cooking skills were learned on the fly.

It’s all fake, Lu Ye thought, realizing that everything had been a deception from the very beginning.

Everything that had once stirred Lu Ye’s heart turned out to be the result of Qi Yanbai catering to his preferences.

A heavy burden lifted from his heart, creating ripples that settled in. Lu Ye took a deep breath, suddenly feeling an inexplicable weariness.

As if he had lost the energy to argue pointlessly with Qi Yanbai, he didn’t want to question him further. Asking Qi Yanbai why he had deceived him would be meaningless. Love without equality was a joke, and clinging on would only make it more embarrassing.

Moreover, Lu Ye didn’t believe there was anything special about him that Qi Yanbai would be infatuated with at first sight. He thought that maybe artists were like this, free-spirited and romantic. They would engage in a love affair when the mood struck, treating it as a game or an experience.

As for him, he was probably just an accidental entry into Qi Yanbai’s interests. So he didn’t deserve the truth, and he didn’t deserve genuine affection.

Lu Ye thought he had found the truth, but even after this love affair, he couldn’t deny that he still had feelings for Qi Yanbai. So as long as Qi Yanbai hadn’t truly crossed the line or hurt someone else, Lu Ye didn’t want to pursue it any further.

“I’m done,” Lu Ye finally said. “I won’t hold you accountable for what you did before. Just take care of yourself from now on.”

Lu Ye knew that at this point, words were futile. The only effective solution was the word “breakup.” However, just like he couldn’t remove the bracelet from his wrist, this sentence felt like a heavy iron block, stubbornly lodged in his throat, impossible to spit out.

Qi Yanbai had played him, and in his earlier days, Lu Ye would have been furious by now and walked away, cleanly cutting ties with Qi Yanbai. But despite the deceit, Qi Yanbai had been good to him, and regardless of his motives, those warm meals in the cold nights were real, and the affection they shared was genuine. So Lu Ye had tried hard for a long time and ultimately couldn’t bring himself to say more decisive words.

He knew he still felt attached, and after all his efforts, he couldn’t force himself. He just clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and turned to walk towards the door.

But as he took two steps, Qi Yanbai quickly caught up and grabbed him without hesitation.

“Let go!” Lu Ye shook off his hand, coldly saying, “I’ve given you a way out. Don’t push me to the point of breaking up!”

“please,” Qi Yanbai stared into his eyes, ignoring the threat and spoke urgently, “I’m confessing to you not for any other reason, but to tell you that I know I was wrong, and I won’t lie to you anymore. Please, give me another chance.”

His posture was humble, his voice soft, tinged with a hint of pleading. However, Lu Ye found the situation quite ironic when he looked at Qi Yanbai’s expression.

“Another chance?” Lu Ye repeated the word slowly as if he hadn’t understood. Then he chuckled and asked, “What do you mean by ‘another chance’? Are you saying you won’t hide anything from me in the future, or are you saying you won’t monitor me anymore?”

Qi Yanbai was caught off guard by the question and struggled to find an answer.

Qi Yanbai knew that no one with dignity would want to be controlled all the time by someone else, especially someone like Lu Ye.

But Qi Yanbai also understood himself. He had an unusually strong desire to control Lu Ye, stemming from his deep-seated insecurity and his intense, almost pathological love for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of Lu Ye disappearing from his sight for long. So even though he would compromised for now as a temporary solution, he knew that one day, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to keep Lu Ye by his side.

Qi Yanbai couldn’t lie to Lu Ye anymore, and he didn’t want to. Since everything was already out in the open, he chose to be honest, hoping that Lu Ye would finally focus his attention on “himself.”

Lu Ye might be angry or hurt, but Qi Yanbai thought that admitting his mistakes, treating Lu Ye better in the future, and even changing himself for the better would be worth it.

He didn’t respond immediately, but Lu Ye had already guessed the answer from his silence. He sneered, unable to find more resolute words.

“I never truly understood you, Teacher Qi,” Lu Ye said. “Of course, that’s my fault. I misjudged you, thinking you sincerely wanted to spend your life with me.”

Considering how much he had loved Qi Yanbai, saying these words felt like tearing his heart apart.

“But now it seems I was mistaken,” Lu Ye continued. “This love game is over. You can find someone else willing to play with you, but as for me…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Qi Yanbai suddenly rushed forward and kissed him without warning. It was an unexpected kiss, and Lu Ye was both surprised and angry. He instinctively tried to push Qi Yanbai away, but after an entire day without eating and with his emotions fluctuating, he felt weak and unsteady. Instead of pushing Qi Yanbai away, he unintentionally took a step back, losing his balance.

Qi Yanbai’s weight was already on him, and in the moment of surprise, they both staggered, causing a heavy collision with the door behind Lu Ye.

The fragile door made a creaking sound of distress, and the doorknob came loose, sliding inward due to the force. Lu Ye managed to regain his balance, but before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar face out of the corner of his eye.

In this room he had never entered before, there were numerous paintings hanging on the walls—on the walls, on easels, and even hanging from the ceiling in frames, each depicting various portraits. Those portraits showed people standing, sitting, walking, or lying down, all with the same face.

Ignoring the piles of canvases in the corners, there were nearly thirty to fifty oil paintings hung around the room. The lighting was dim, and most of the works were hidden in shadows. However, even so, when Lu Ye saw his own face in those paintings, goosebumps formed on his back, and he felt like he was making eye contact with himself.

Qi Yanbai didn’t expect them to crash into the art studio’s door, and he was momentarily stunned. But he quickly realized it was an opportunity.

“I admit that I initially deceived you,” Qi Yanbai said when he saw Lu Ye in shock. He reached out and gently pulled Lu Ye’s waist, leaning in carefully and speaking in a soft, pleading tone. “But I really fell in love with you at first sight.”

There was only one source of light in the room, on the wall directly facing the door. Lu Ye’s attention was irresistibly drawn to that bright spot, and he saw a huge life-sized oil painting hanging there. The person in the painting had their back to the door, standing in a dark expanse of wilderness, tilting their head slightly to reveal a side of their face.

The endless wilderness extended beyond the frame, seeming boundless, and the red marks on the back of the person’s neck and waist, standing in a splattering of black and red, glistened in the spotlight.

Smoke lingered, tentacles emerging from the ground, winding up around the person’s ankles and legs in the painting, tightly entwining their legs and wrists, like a soft cage that bound them in the center of the canvas.

The image appeared dark and twisted, but the person in the painting didn’t seem sinister at all. The colors used were clean and pure, and their gaze seemed both compassionate and indifferent, as if they were looking into the void of the wilderness and also at someone beyond the painting.

It looked as if they were deeply trapped in hell but also like the supreme god above all.

The painting hung high on the wall, and even Lu Ye had to tilt his head to see it properly. He didn’t understand art appreciation much, but at this moment, as he looked at that enormous oil painting, he felt nothing but awe.

It was as if he could feel the artist’s devotion and admiration through the strokes of the brush, a passionate and almost obsessive emotion splattered across the entire canvas.

The person in the painting looked about ninety percent like him, incredibly lifelike, but as Lu Ye stared at it, he felt like he was looking at a different person.

His expression changed and changed again, from anger to bewilderment, and then to disbelief.

Did Qi Yanbai paint this? Lu Ye wondered. Is this how he sees me?

A sketch could be forged, but a room full of oil paintings couldn’t be. Lu Ye’s gaze swept over those paintings, and his once certain conclusions became uncertain.

“The first time you knocked on my door, I was actually contemplating self-harm,” Qi Yanbai confessed without waiting for Lu Ye to respond. “At that time, I hadn’t painted in years, and I was feeling miserable, suffocated, as if I would never get past a creative block. I didn’t know what to do, so I thought, maybe pain and blood could help me in some way. But I hadn’t even started, and you showed up.”

Yes, Lu Ye remembered the circumstances of that day. Qi Yanbai did have an art knife in his hand, but Lu Ye had thought he injured his hand while cutting paper and hadn’t considered other possibilities.

“That day, you praised me and gave me a band-aid. I don’t know why, but my mood suddenly improved,” Qi Yanbai said. “After you left, I created my first artwork in five years.”

So that’s why he called me a ‘gift,’ Lu Ye thought.

“I didn’t know what ‘liking’ meant at first, so I saw you as my savior,” Qi Yanbai continued. “But as I spent more time with you, I realized how amazing you are.”

“No one has ever protected me like you have,” Qi Yanbai said softly. “No one ever.”

His living situation was simple yet complicated. It seemed straightforward, like a path with a visible end, but it was complex, like a quagmire beneath the surface, full of intrigue and endlessness.

“Before you, everyone I encountered had their own motives. They only cared about whether they could get what they wanted, never about my feelings,” Qi Yanbai paused and then said, “But you do.”

“You protect me, comfort me, genuinely love me without any ulterior motives or reasons,” Qi Yanbai’s voice softened even more. “I know it may sound calculating, but you’re just too good. I can’t stop myself from loving you.”

“Lu Ye,” Qi Yanbai sighed lightly. “In this world, no one can dislike you, no one can not love you.”

Qi Yanbai’s words struck a chord deep within Lu Ye.

Since the moment he had discovered the listening device, Lu Ye had been torn between conflicting thoughts.

On one hand, he knew that Qi Yanbai was not the gentle teacher he had thought he was. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but recall the way Qi Yanbai looked at him.

Qi Yanbai’s affection felt so real, too real to doubt. Lu Ye believed he had the ability to distinguish between genuine “love” and mere “playacting,” so he couldn’t believe that all those looks filled with joy and satisfaction were fake.

But the evidence against Qi Yanbai was hard to refute. So, Lu Ye had been struggling, feeling anger, pain, disappointment, and an inexplicable inner conflict. He fought not to let this relationship turn into a pure mockery, but when Qi Yanbai confessed that everything was planned, he had to reluctantly accept it.

But now, Qi Yanbai had placed a new weight on the other side of the scale with his own hands.

Lu Ye had finally allowed a hint of confusion into his mind.

Perhaps he had never truly understood Qi Yanbai, Lu Ye thought. When he believed that Qi Yanbai was real, he discovered that he was fake. But when he was prepared to accept the deception, he found that there was still something real in it.

This internal struggle surfaced once again. Lu Ye’s once resolute mind began to waver. He looked away from the painting and turned to face Qi Yanbai.

His gaze was calmer this time, more like recognition than scrutiny.

“I know I was wrong, I shouldn’t have treated you that way,” Qi Yanbai said as he noticed Lu Ye’s expression softening. He hurriedly continued, “But it became a habit. You know about my family situation. Everyone in my family is competing, fighting to get what they want. They can do anything to achieve their goals. So, I got used to that way of doing things, subconsciously choosing the easiest, quickest, and also the wrong path.”

Once there was a shortcut in life, it quickly became the only path. Qi Yanbai had gained Lu Ye through this shortcut, but he had also planted a huge hidden danger for himself.

“Afterward, when I truly gained your affection, I was afraid of losing you,” Qi Yanbai bit his lip and said softly, “back at home with my father, if I didn’t keep an eye on a painting at all times, it would be destroyed the next second. So, I had to keep all the paintings close, where I could see them.”

“Many of my paintings were destroyed,” Qi Yanbai’s voice grew soft, sounding a bit pitiful. “My competition entry at the age of twelve, the year-end artwork at fifteen, and my masterpiece at sixteen—all those paintings were torn, burned, or splattered with paint when I wasn’t paying attention. Even now, the thought of it pains me.”

Qi Yanbai’s gaze was different from before, Lu Ye thought. He used to be subtle and bashful, rarely gazing at Lu Ye with such directness, and seldom staring at him with such open, candid eyes.

His apology was sincere, his posture humble, but there was a fire burning in his eyes, an almost obsessive determination to win Lu Ye over.

So, this is the real Qi Yanbai, Lu Ye realized. His love, previously concealed beneath a gentle exterior, had finally shed its protective shell, becoming intense, passionate, and relentless, with an all-or-nothing commitment.

This kind of direct and sharp affection seemed more dangerous but also more real. As Lu Ye’s thoughts shifted, the scales in his mind, which had already tipped in one direction, slowly began to waver and become uncertain.

“I don’t want you to become one of those painful memories,” Qi Yanbai explained, seizing the opportunity to clarify. “I truly know I was wrong, but I was afraid, Lu Ye. I didn’t want to hurt you; I just wanted to protect myself.”

Lu Ye could see that this time, Qi Yanbai was being sincere.

However, his once overactive mind had cooled down under the rollercoaster of emotions. He didn’t want to make any decisions in this environment—whether to continue or end the relationship, whether it was good or bad. He wanted to carefully consider this matter.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Lu Ye asked.

Qi Yanbai was momentarily puzzled by Lu Ye’s sudden question. But before he could grasp the reason, Lu Ye provided the answer himself.

“Because you think it’s the best time,” Lu Ye said. “It allows you to be honest and explain your actions. If my emotions were more unstable right now, I might have been impulsive and thought you had ‘valid reasons,’ right?”

Qi Yanbai was struck by Lu Ye’s insight. He was first amazed by Lu Ye’s quick response, but then he realized that Lu Ye had always been this perceptive. All his clumsy attempts to probe and guide had been carried out under Lu Ye’s indulgence. Once Lu Ye withdrew his irrational favor and leniency, Qi Yanbai’s every thought would be exposed before Lu Ye.

“Yes,” Qi Yanbai reluctantly admitted. “But I really—”

“Really what?” Lu Ye didn’t let him finish. He just shook his head and then forcefully pushed Qi Yanbai away.

“Let’s end it here for tonight,” Lu Ye said. “Both of us need some time to calm down before we can talk again.”

His voice was calm this time, but it carried an undeniable finality. Qi Yanbai stared at him in a daze, watching as Lu Ye brushed past him and walked to the entrance, where he opened the front door.

“Let’s calm down,” Lu Ye repeated before walking out of the room. He closed the door behind him, leaving Qi Yanbai behind in the corridor.

Qi Yanbai, leaning against the door, pressed his forehead against his arm. He stared blankly at the dark door and, after a long while, a tear streaked down from the corner of his eye.”