Introduction to Ink-Toned Twin Cities
Seventeen-year-old Liu Jiangning stands on the edge of a cliff in her life.
Her family has gone bankrupt, debt collectors are crowding outside their door, and her mother’s hair is turning whiter by the day. Desperate to get into a good university, she forces herself to walk into a calligraphy and painting academy in Fuyang, Hangzhou, despite having no experience. She hopes the entrance exam for art students will boost her overall score. On those sleepless nights, she registers for an account on an app. She wants to find someone who can help her.
Then she receives that private message.
“Good night, Peach. You’re adorable. I hope you get to bed early tonight.”
His ID is “Love Isn’t Giving In,” his WeChat name is “Da Neng,” and his profile signature reads, “If only I had a mansion with ten thousand rooms, I’d shelter all the poor scholars beneath my roof, and they would all be glad.” He is thirty-seven and works in Chengdu, with a voice as steady as the autumn wind. He sends her money to buy paint, remembers every word she has ever said, and tells her “Good night, Peach” every night. He never crosses the line, acts frivolously, or rushes her. Like an adult watching over her from afar, he protects her while keeping just the right distance.
Liu Jiangning tells herself this is only a transaction. She doesn’t need to fall for him; she only needs to play the role of an “art student.”
But the lies grow like a snowball rolling downhill. She never dares show him her paintings, because those sheets of rice paper contain no landscapes at all, only carefully copied regular script. And the warmth of the man on the other side of the screen is slowly dismantling all her defenses.
What she doesn’t know is that, on the other side of Chengdu, Liu Jiaxuan also has a past he has never spoken of. The recordings hidden on his profile, the name “Da Neng”…
