The man looked up at me, then took the painting off the easel and handed it to me: "For you."

I took the painting and examined it carefully.

It looks just like me - the same features, the same expression, but the me in the painting looks more vibrant and radiant than I do now.

I blinked, smiled bitterly, "Great painter, the painting doesn't look anything like me."

"Why?" he asked me.

"It doesn't feel like me," I pointed to the me in the painting, "She looks too vibrant, different from me."

"No," the man vetoed, "She looks a lot like you."

I was a bit puzzled, does he understand me better than I do?

But then I thought, perhaps this is just his professional stubbornness as an artist being pointed out by the model?

I didn't expose him, instead I nodded along with his suggestion, "The great painter is right."

He didn't say anything, so I sat quietly next to him watching him continue sketching.

After a while, he suddenly asked me, "How are things with Lu Yan?"

For some reason, he seemed particularly familiar with my affairs.

I didn't even know his name, yet he seemed to know everything about me.

I suddenly remembered the figure I saw outside the park the day I was pushed into the water by Lu Yan, it seemed to be him.

I asked him, "Have we met before?"

He froze, his hand paused in mid-air.

But it was just a moment, then he resumed his work.

He lowered his head, quietly drawing, seemingly calm, but the lines were noticeably rough.

He spoke slowly, "I don't know you."

I asked him again, "Were you also present the day Lu Yan pushed me into the water?"

He neither confirmed nor denied.

I tried hard to extract any information about him from my memory, trying to figure out his intentions, but to no avail.

I asked again, "What's your name?"

This time, he finally looked up, meeting my gaze.

He solemnly replied, "Xia Sili. My name is Xia Sili, Lin Zhi."