Chapter 160: Painting

Chapter 160: Chapter 160: Painting

Jiang Chinan knew all too well that she was the intended victim of a premeditated murder attempt, and he could not stop his mind from racing about what might have happened if she had actually crashed. If she had been maimed or killed on the highway because of his petty malice, he would have been a direct killer.

The crushing weight of that realisation left him feeling physically sick.

That specific terror was the exact reason Jiang Chinan had locked himself in his room and refused to come down for family dinner. He knew Qiao Meixia would be seated at the table, and his guilty conscience made facing her an absolute impossibility.

He had assumed she would already be safely tucked away in her bedroom by this late hour, which was why he had finally mustered the courage to sneak downstairs to grab some food. He certainly had not expected to run straight into her on the stairs.

Jiang Chinan stood frozen on the steps for a long moment, staring blankly at the empty hallway where Qiao Meixia had vanished. Once he was completely certain she was gone, his tense shoulders finally dropped. However, his stomach chose that exact second to let out a loud, aggressive growl, reminding him that he had not eaten a single bite since morning.

Panicking slightly, he turned on his heel and rushed toward the back kitchens.

Several domestic staff members were bustling around handling their late-night chores when Jiang Chinan burst through the swinging doors. Catching sight of him, they immediately halted their work and offered polite, respectful bows.

"Young Master Chinan? What brings you down to the kitchen at this hour?" A senior cook stepped forward, wiping her hands on an apron.

"I am starving. Is there anything left to eat?" Jiang Chinan asked anxiously.

"Madam specifically left strict instructions for us to set aside a warm plate of dinner for you, sir. Please give me just a moment to pop it in the warmer and bring it out." The cook replied kindly.

"Oh... Right. Perfect." Jiang Chinan nodded, swallowing hard.

"Would you prefer to wait in the main dining hall, Young Master Chinan?" The cook suggested.

"No... Hmm, actually, just send the food straight up to my bedroom. I will eat in my room tonight." Jiang Chinan instructed hurriedly.

"Very well. I will have a servant bring the tray up to your door shortly." The senior staff member agreed with a nod.

Without another word, Jiang Chinan turned around and scurried back out of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, upstairs in her private quarters, Qiao Meixia sat cross-legged on her bed, quietly examining the detailed design draft she had been meticulously refining earlier. The artistic composition was nearly fully realised in her mind’s eye, and the core sketch had already taken solid, elegant form on the paper.

All that remained for her to do was carefully transfer the proportions onto a heavy-grade canvas and begin the process of layering the oils.

She had originally planned to tackle the project over the upcoming weekend. However, she knew for a fact that she could not execute it inside the suffocating walls of the Jiang Family Residence. There were simply far too many eyes, ears, and petty distractions in that house, and she vastly preferred working in absolute isolation where nobody could pry into her personal space.

After weighing her options, she decided her private downtown apartment would be the ideal studio.

After all, nobody in the main family estate particularly cared where she spent her downtime, especially Feng Lan, who would undoubtedly celebrate having her out of sight. As long as Qiao Meixia was not actively rocking the boat or causing drama in the mansion, Feng Lan would be more than happy to pretend she did not exist.

The only person who warranted a brief notification was Jiang Suhan. She could simply drop him a short text message letting him know she would be staying at a friend’s place for a few days. That casual explanation would be more than enough to satisfy him.

The following afternoon, right after school was dismissed, Qiao Meixia drove her superbike straight to her downtown apartment complex.

When she pulled into the underground garage, the professional delivery team had already arrived with the massive blank canvases and premium art supplies she had pre-ordered. She quickly dialled the building’s front security desk to authorise the delivery van, ensuring the workers could clear the gate without unnecessary delays.

Moments later, she directed the delivery men to haul all the heavy crates directly up to her apartment floor.

Once everything was safely unloaded inside the living room, Qiao Meixia tipped the delivery crew generously for their hard work in carrying the heavy supplies up the stairs. The workers beamed with genuine delight at the extra cash, eagerly helping her stack the boxes neatly against the wall before taking their leave.

Qiao Meixia spent the next hour moving the supplies one by one into the spare, sunlit room she had designated as her permanent home art studio.

Since the room had previously remained entirely empty, it provided an abundance of open floor space for her to set up her easel, organise her oil paints, sort her fine-bristle brushes, and arrange her auxiliary equipment. She took her time configuring the layout until every single item was precisely where she wanted it.

Once her workspace was thoroughly organised, she slipped into comfortable loungewear, turned on a low-volume playlist of ambient instrumental music, and stepped into the creative zone.

Her brush glided effortlessly across the primed canvas, faithfully translating the vivid mental imagery from her preliminary sketches into physical reality. She lost herself completely in the rhythm of the brushstrokes, blocking out the rest of the world. Soft melodies drifted through the quiet room while she painted for hours on end, utterly consumed by the creative process.

She completely lost track of time. It was not until her stomach emitted a sharp, audible rumble that she finally snapped back to reality.

Stepping back from the easel, Qiao Meixia wiped a smudge of charcoal from her wrist and checked the digital clock on the wall.

It was nearly midnight.

She had been so intensely absorbed in her work that hours had slipped by unnoticed. Realising she was ravenously hungry, she unlocked her phone, opened a popular food delivery application, and began scrolling through late-night dining options.

Even though the delivery fees and menu prices were heavily inflated due to the late hour, she did not bat an eye at the total. She simply selected a satisfying meal, finalised the transaction, and placed her order.

Scarcely fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed with an incoming call from an unfamiliar number. It was the delivery rider, explaining apologetically that the building’s strict night security protocol required him to verify the order directly with the resident before they would grant him access to the residential elevators.

Qiao Meixia immediately dialled the lobby security office, verbally confirming that the incoming food order was entirely legitimate. Hearing her authorisation, the guards finally unlocked the lobby turnstile and let the rider through.

The delivery driver hurried to the elevator bank and patiently waited for the doors to slide open. Within two minutes, the chime rang, and the elevator doors slid back. He raised his head and caught sight of a striking young woman stepping out into the lobby, her appearance somewhat dishevelled.

"Are you the customer named Qiao?" The rider asked, squinting down at the receipt in his hand uncertainly.

"Hmm." Qiao Meixia nodded quietly.

"Here is your dinner order." The delivery rider said, extending the heavy paper bag toward her.

"Thank you." Qiao Meixia took the bag with one hand and immediately pivoted on her heel to re-enter the elevator.

The delivery driver stood frozen for a second, watching through the gap as the elevator doors slowly hummed shut in front of her.

Seeing her dressed in casual, paint-smudged clothes with her dark hair tied up in a slightly messy knot made him mentally speculate about what kind of intense activity she had been doing before coming downstairs. Perhaps she had been buried in late-night academic studies or artistic projects and had only remembered to eat once his phone call jarred her memory.

Not to mention, the girl was undeniably gorgeous. For a brief, lingering second, the delivery rider found himself staring blankly at the closed metal doors, lost in a daydream.

However, he snapped his fingers and shook his head to clear the silly thoughts away.

A resident living in a high-end luxury building like this clearly belonged to elite, wealthy circles. Someone of her social status was entirely out of his league, and he had no business entertaining unrealistic fantasies.

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