I have a Tantric panel

"Excuse me, Byron Hillman, who is he to you?"

Xia En stepped forward, looked at the young man in the lead, and his gaze fell on the silver family crest below his bow tie.

"……Um?"

The young man squinted, but still answered, "Byron was my cousin, but he unfortunately passed away from illness a few days ago."

"Are you...my cousin's friend?"

He passed away due to illness?

Xia En was somewhat taken aback.

It had been less than a month since he met Byron at the charity dinner.

At that time, Byron showed no signs of illness whatsoever.

How could he have suddenly passed away from illness?

He couldn't help but recall the "curse" the Hillman family had mentioned in Aurora's words, and a chill ran down his spine.

"You, you are... Senior Xia En?"

The freckled-faced man stared at the scene intently for a long while before finally uttering a sound of disbelief.

"Shane? Isn't that the artist of this painting?"

The young men reacted quickly, their faces showing embarrassment.

It's bound to be a little embarrassing if the person you're talking about hears you saying bad things.

They'd be willing to offer their opinions behind their backs, but when it came to confronting Xia En face-to-face, they immediately chickened out.

After all, the other party is a painter recognized by the Royal Academy of Arts and Cecil.

No matter what, their level is still higher than mine.

"Ahem... those paintings over there look pretty good too, let's go take a look."

"Hurry up, hurry up!"

The group made an excuse and left in a hurry.

Shay turned around and greeted the freckled face: "Shay, long time no see."

Upon hearing the title "senior," he finally retrieved the other person's information from his memory palace.

This is his junior from his university days in Ashburton—the original owner's hometown, a medium-sized industrial city.

Because we were in the same college and lived relatively close to each other.

So we've met a few times.

We've spoken, but we're not very close.

"Senior, it really is you!"

Shay took two steps closer with delight, but then suddenly stopped, his expression becoming reserved again, as if separated by an invisible, thick barrier.

In his eyes, the senior in front of him was completely different.

When I left Ashburyton earlier.

Xia En's parents had just passed away, leaving him thin and haggard, in addition to his persistent lung disease.

It's as if it wouldn't be strange if he quietly died at home one day.

At the time, other students at the university thought so.

After he went to the capital, he either slunk back or struggled and gasped for breath in some corner.

But not long after Shay arrived in the capital, he saw that familiar name in the newspaper.

He initially thought it was just a coincidence of having the same name.

Only after seeing the posted photos could one vaguely see traces of the past on the handsome and confident young painter's face.

Now I've seen him in person.

Xie Yi then realized that the senior had become a completely unfamiliar person.

—He became more attractive, gained higher status, and even his cough disappeared.

That composed confidence seemed to have gilded him with a golden glow.

Shay felt both envious and somewhat inferior.

"Don't be so formal."

Xia En saw through his thoughts and smiled gently.

"It's been so long since I've seen anyone from my hometown. You've come to Beijing this time?"

"I've been living in Beijing for a while now."

Shay's cheeks flushed slightly: "I'm currently working as a clerk at a newspaper."

Xia En glanced at his junior's clothes.

It's not hard to guess that the clerk he was referring to was probably a low-level employee at the newspaper, responsible for various miscellaneous tasks.

I'm pretty much the same as I was back then.

It's enough to make a living, but it's not exactly respectable.

He's a familiar face from our hometown, so it's only right that we take care of him.

So Shane said, "I live at 221 Winchester Street now. You can come to me if you have any problems."

"Okay, thank you, senior."

After chatting for a few minutes, the two parted ways to enjoy the art exhibition separately.

As Shane was about to leave, he noticed that Shay was still standing in front of the painting "To Victory".

It seems the junior student quite likes this painting?

Xia En smiled slightly, turned around and walked out of the exhibition hall.

He didn't notice.

As he gazed at "To Victory," a strange light flashed in the eyes of the shy and delicate young man.

……

……

arrive home.

Neither Eileen nor Lucius returned, and even Watson the Blackbell was nowhere to be found.

After thinking for a moment, Xia En decided to go directly to the attic that had been converted into an art studio.

He plans to paint a picture.

It was used to solve Clara's mother's problem.

In fact, he had already prepared a draft in his mind some time ago.

The reason I haven't started writing is that I feel my skills aren't mature enough.

Currently, after gazing upon the [pure white canvas], both [art] and [passion] have been greatly enhanced.

in other words.

Xia En couldn't resist the urge to draw!

This is the time to paint this picture!

Beneath the half-open skylight, a gentle breeze flows with the setting sun.

Xia En picked up a paintbrush and used colors and lines to unfold the images in his mind onto the canvas.

Moth...cocoon...flame...two figures...

With the support of [Passion (2)], the drawing process was extremely smooth and fluid, with almost no stuttering.

When applied to a novelist, this translates to a flow of words that is incredibly efficient.

Considering that the painting was intended for Clara's mother to see alone, rather than being exhibited to the public.

Shane chose a simple, direct drawing method, which made drawing faster.

As the bells echoed in the night.

Shane made the final stroke on the canvas.

"Is it already this late?"

Xia En put down his pen and glanced at his pocket watch.

The clock has just struck twelve.

The bell just now signaled the arrival of midnight.

Xia En carefully climbed down the stairs.

Inside the restaurant, a dim candle still burned, and some sliced ​​bread sat on the table.

Eileen clearly knew he was back.

Seeing that he was so focused on his painting, I didn't disturb him.

The bread and candles were naturally reserved for him.

Xia En has experienced this feeling of being cared for by her mother many times these days.

He washed his hands, ate bread by candlelight, and filled his hungry stomach.

Then he tiptoed back to his room.

It's late today.

He skipped the breathing exercises and began meditating.

As Xia En's consciousness sank once more into the deep lake, there were already many more points of light, some bright and some dim, all around him.

This change stems from the exhibition of Shane's "To Victory" and its increased recognition.

Visitors to the art exhibition came and went.

Inevitably, a few insightful "seeds" will be touched by the painting.

It can be said.

The process of exhibiting the paintings is like casting a large net.

Now, it's time to harvest and reap the rewards.

Shaen scanned the many points of light.

First, exclude the spirituality of those that are exceptionally bright, which are mostly those of truly extraordinary beings.

Then, a group of relatively less talented individuals were excluded.

In the end, there weren't many spots of light left.

Soon, a silver-gray spot of light came into Xia En's view.

The light seemed to carry a sense of familiarity and warmth.

—You're the one!

Without further hesitation, Xia En extended his invisible spiritual tentacles upwards.

With a soft "pop," as if passing through a layer of transparent water bubble, a feeling of weightlessness came over me.

Consciousness rapidly declined.

Until you fall into the depths of a dream.