C5

He Yao'an never once looked for Xia Yuli ever since she had left him. She also never turned back ever since that day, but that didn't mean that she didn't see him everywhere. From Weibo to news channels, she'd see other women standing beside him, and they all looked dignified. Every time she'd catch sight of them, she'd change the channel, not wanting to see any more of his face. Even then, she couldn't mitigate the sudden throb in her chest.

As she was starting to move on from the past, something else had rocked her world–a plagiarism report.

In recent years, her artworks had won hundreds of awards all around the country. All her pictures were tiny reminiscents of her memories, and some of them had been adored for the sense of life carved within their eyes.

However, most of her artworks revealed a distinguished man. In some canvases, he was lying on the bed. In the others, he was captured sitting in front of his laptop. There were a few strokes that defined the intensity of his eyes and the quirk of his lips, and these were the features that had attracted the public's attention.

While others were only meant for the canvases, these sets of artworks were commercialized. Now, she could say that almost everyone she had met had the man's face as their profile picture or screensavers. Nobody had talked about it before, that was until evidence had risen of her 'plagiarism'.

The person who had accused Xia Yuli had pictures of her own manuscripts. "That bitch had copied all my paintings," the woman had accused her. "She only modified them a bit, but all the major details were there!"

Of course, everyone didn't believe her so readily as they waited for Xia Yuli's clarification, but she didn't make any comments. Instead, she sat back and watched as the scandal grew and grew.

The man in the canvases was actually He Yao'an, and there was no way she was going to tell the world that they had been together.

No matter how smitten she was with him, she had already chosen to leave. At this point, if everyone knew that the paintings were him and that she had painted the man who would never love her back, they'd only humiliate her even further. That was the last thing she needed if she wanted to move on from him.

She'd rather bear the plagiarism accusations than being known as the woman who had been rejected by He Yao'an.

Xia Yuli had already moved on from these kinds of shady relationships and nonessential secrecies.

However, there was a point in her life when she carried out hope–hope that he may one day help her out. That he may one day claim her as his woman, and that they may move on from the dozens of disagreements they had in the past.

But no matter how long she had waited, the man didn't say a word in reply.

"Stupid," she murmured to herself, shaking her head. He Yao'an had already met dozens of women–those more beautiful and extravagant than she'd ever be. Why the heck would he dip himself in the mud she had created?

He knew of all of this–of course, he did. How could he not recognize his own face every time he'd look them up when he was the first one she'd show them to? So he didn't clear it up because he knew nothing of this, but because he wanted nothing to do with her.

"Are you really that embarrassed of me?" Xia Yuli laughed bitterly as she stared at her phone, gripping it tightly. "What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

After the plagiarism incident, her career had plummeted. And the high money had used up all her savings.

Xia Yuli retreated to a small city in Lin Province to become an art teacher. However, when the parents knew of her real identity, they immediately set up a meeting. "We'd pull out our child if you're going to let this plagiarist teach them," they warned, and she was immediately let go.

At that point, her life had become even bleaker. None of the businesses wanted to accept her as an illustrator, no matter how much potential she had shown. Who would've thought that such a popular artist would now become a shameful blotch in the artist community?

Now, Xia Yuli could only change her name and draw some drafts for some unknown company. That was the only thing keeping her afloat at this point. She sighed.

Suddenly, she snapped out of her thoughts as soon as she felt something dripping down her leg. Glancing down, she realized that the brush she was holding had fallen to her skirt, staining the fabric. "Fuck," she breathed out. That was acrylic!

"That's it. Enough." She shook those memories out of her mind and continued to finish her canvas.