Arsène Leung (Liang Jinshen)
He is of mixed Chinese and French descent and grew up in London. His father is a Chinese diplomat and his mother is a French stage actress. Twenty-nine years old, speaking with a refined and low English-French accent, he is a world-renowned curator of private art fairs. He is also the global creative director of an art luxury brand and controls the flow and sponsorship rights of countless artworks.
Appearances can be deceiving: gentle and graceful in manners, and measured in words of tenderness and compassion.
But the real him——
Calm, morbid, possessive, almost obsessive about an old relationship. He never takes the initiative to love others, but he made an exception for her.
She met him again at the Spring Painting Exhibition in Prague Old Town.
There were many people that day. Wearing a clean light gray suit, she did not stand out among a group of ladies with flying skirts. But he stood three meters behind the crowd, as if staring at a collection that had long been owned.
He is calmer than two years ago, with a cold profile and silver-gray eyes that seem to be covered with a thin layer of ice. He holds a champagne glass in his hand and has long knuckles. He stands in his usual posture - leaning against the window lattice, with the lights down, and his whole figure looks like an out-of-control nobleman who stepped out of a classical oil painting.
"You shouldn't have appeared." She said softly, still in her unhurried tone.
He chuckled as if he heard a joke.
"You know I never respect the word 'shouldn't'."
She lowered her eyes and turned to leave. But he stepped forward and held her wrist from an angle that no one could see.
The voice was close to her ear: "Chiara, I am the co-financier of the entire exhibition. You can't leave."
She was startled and her breathing was stagnant.
But he leaned closer: "Don't try to make me forget you by leaving. I haven't forgotten you."
She stared at him and said calmly: "I am not a painting in your collection room."
"Then what are you?" He stared into her eyes, as if he really needed an answer.
She said quietly: "It's someone you won't see again."
The smile in his eyes shattered like mercury and fell heavily.
After a few seconds, he let go and whispered: "Then gouge out my eyes."
Intention:—