After Escaping Marriage - Chapter 26
Chapter 26
This unexpected move silenced Yu Qingtang, preventing her from asking the question that had been on the tip of her tongue.
She herself had said she was going home, so she had no grounds to question Cheng Zhanxi's actions.
Nevertheless, after making her statement, Cheng Zhanxi leaned in, whispering a casual explanation, "I saw a lot of people here, so I came to see what was going on."
Yu Qingtang nodded, not bothering to fabricate an excuse.
They found themselves standing before the same painting, a person's distance separating them, maintaining Yu Qingtang's personal space.
Cheng Zhanxi, standing slightly back, leaned in and, lowering her voice, asked, "Do you like Cheng Mo's paintings?"
Yu Qingtang, her eyes on the painting, replied indifferently, "Just browsing."
Cheng Zhanxi hummed in response, letting Yu Qingtang observe the painting in peace.
The painting, titled "Cat Sitting on a Clock," was one of Cheng Mo's most distinctive and acclaimed works, one that had previously been offered a high price at the Venice exhibition, only to be rejected by Cheng Zhanxi herself.
It was abstract, devoid of any recognizable forms or narrative, consisting solely of lines and color blocks, the proportions deliberately off-kilter, the images distorted, reminiscent of reflections in a shattered mirror, bizarre and unpredictable. This kind of artwork required careful observation, the viewer needing to discern the meaning from the subtle details.
Yu Qingtang spent only three minutes before moving on to the next painting.
Cheng Zhanxi blinked. She didn't like it? she wondered.
Yu Qingtang moved even faster, spending only three minutes on the next two paintings.
Cheng Zhanxi: "..."
If it had been anyone else, appreciating her art so superficially, Cheng Zhanxi might have politely asked them to leave. She had done so before.
It had happened during her first exhibition at a Parisian gallery. Firsts were always different. Even though she rarely appeared in public and wasn't easily recognizable, she had still made a small effort to disguise herself and was excited to see her exhibition. On the first afternoon, she had encountered someone who clearly didn't understand art, pointing and commenting on her paintings nonsensically.
Cheng Zhanxi had contacted the gallery staff and, after explaining the situation, had asked them to ask the visitor to leave.
Two university students were now standing before "Cat Sitting on a Clock."
The one in the yellow shirt glanced at the painting and said loudly, "What is this junk?" Her voice, uncontrolled and loud, broke the quiet atmosphere of the gallery, drawing annoyed glances from those nearby.
You encountered such people everywhere.
The girl in the yellow shirt shut up and pretended to appreciate the painting.
Others turned away.
Cheng Zhanxi and Yu Qingtang were nearby and overheard the girl in the long skirt say softly, "Don't be rude. It's art."
The girl in yellow said with a giggle, "Just a few random strokes and it's art? I could do that too."
This time, she spoke quietly, only those nearby hearing her. They shook their heads and moved away.
The girl in the long skirt seemed annoyed. "Even if you could paint, would anyone buy it? Do you think the people who spend a fortune on these paintings are stupid? They know more about art than you do," she said.
The girl in yellow, acting as if she was wiser than everyone else, scoffed, "Modern art is just hype. Most people don't understand these paintings, and they can't see the difference. As long as they sell for a high price at auction, the artist becomes famous. Those buyers probably don't even understand the art, they just want to impress others, acting as if they're connoisseurs. It's just like diamond marketing – create hype, make people think it's valuable."
Yu Qingtang couldn't help but frown and wanted to turn and see who was making such nonsensical statements.
But then she heard a scoff from beside her.
Yu Qingtang turned to look at Cheng Zhanxi.
Cheng Zhanxi's lips curled into a sneer. "There are always such pretentious fools," she said, her voice dripping with contempt.
She rarely spoke with such disdain, her usually gentle demeanor replaced by a sharp, aloof aura.
Cheng Zhanxi continued, "The barrier to entry for painting is low. Anyone who can hold a brush can make a few strokes. That's why some people think they can paint. Some people say they could paint Picasso's later abstract works with their feet. But have they seen Picasso's plaster cast sketches from when he was thirteen?"
Yu Qingtang stared at her in surprise.
Cheng Zhanxi stopped, regaining her composure. "I apologize," she said softly.
Yu Qingtang: "It's fine."
Yu Qingtang continued browsing, and Cheng Zhanxi remained quiet, until Yu Qingtang stopped before a brightly colored oil painting and stared at it for a long time.
This painting was one Cheng Zhanxi had completed in Sicheng, inspired by a train journey she had taken in March. The colors were rich and vibrant, expressing her energy and passion.
Cheng Zhanxi smiled slightly. "What do you think of this one?" she asked.
Yu Qingtang, her expression unchanged, said, "Too flashy."
Cheng Zhanxi: "..."
Yu Qingtang hadn't finished her thought: But I do like it. It was as if she could feel the painter's zest for life, like the sun in June. The colors were vibrant, and the emotions were raw and unfiltered.
It was something she lacked, and so, she was drawn to it.
Like the way she felt seeing Cheng Zhanxi leaning against her motorcycle at the bar.
Yu Qingtang's features softened as she stood quietly before the painting.
Cheng Zhanxi, initially feeling a little disheartened, felt her spirits lift, seeing Yu Qingtang's expression. Whether or not the paintings were "flashy," if they could bring her a moment of joy, it was worthwhile.
She had also confirmed that Yu Qingtang truly didn't understand art, her artistic appreciation stuck at a kindergarten level, easily captivated by bright, bold colors.
Cheng Zhanxi felt a surge of affection for her, her eyes soft and tender as she looked at Yu Qingtang.
Leaning closer, Cheng Zhanxi whispered, "Ms. Yu, I'm going to the restroom."
Yu Qingtang nodded without turning.
Cheng Zhanxi was gone for a long time. Yu Qingtang had finished looking at the paintings and was about to text Cheng Zhanxi when she saw Cheng Zhanxi entering the gallery again, wearing a cobalt blue dress, her long, wavy hair cascading down her back. The gallery lights highlighted her delicate skin, and she moved with an elegant grace.
Almost everyone in the gallery turned to look at her.
Yu Qingtang sighed inwardly.
Ms. Cheng was so different when she was talking versus when she was quiet.
Cheng Zhanxi stopped before Yu Qingtang, her expression slightly awkward. "I asked the gallery staff," she said quietly. "They say Cheng Mo is here. Would you like to meet her?"
Yu Qingtang said, without hesitation, "No."
Cheng Zhanxi, her attempt at a surprise ruined: "..."
Yu Qingtang asked, "Aren't you going home?"
"I am," Cheng Zhanxi said, trying to persuade her. "But it won't take long. Many people want to meet her but don't have the chance."
Yu Qingtang's expression remained unchanged. "Not me," she said.
"I know," Cheng Zhanxi said, pausing, as if to console herself. "I know."
At that moment, only she knew the turmoil within her. A successful, sought-after artist, yet she wasn't even worthy of meeting the artist she admired.
Yu Qingtang started walking towards the exit, Cheng Zhanxi walking beside her. Lowering her voice, she said, "I want to meet her. Will you come with me?"
Yu Qingtang stopped.
Cheng Zhanxi, biting her lip, lightly tugged at Yu Qingtang's sleeve. "I'm a little scared," she whispered.
Yu Qingtang: "..."
After a short silence, Yu Qingtang said, "Let's go,"
She gently pulled her sleeve away from Cheng Zhanxi's fingers.
"I'll come with you," she said.
Cheng Zhanxi beamed. After meeting Yu Qingtang's gaze, she composed herself, her smile sweet and innocent. "Thank you, Jiejie," she said.
Yu Qingtang glanced at her, then looked away, walking forward.
"Which way?" Cheng Zhanxi asked, following her.
Cheng Zhanxi pointed towards the curator's office. "This way."
They walked away from the main exhibition hall and towards the curator's office.
Cheng Zhanxi knocked on the door.
The sound of footsteps approached.
The curator, a man in his fifties, opened the door, his eyes wide with surprise. "Ms. Cheng Mo? What brings you here?" he exclaimed.
Yu Qingtang was startled, instinctively looking behind her, but there was no one there.
Slowly, she focused on Cheng Zhanxi, her gaze flickering between the two, her expression questioning.
The curator and Cheng Zhanxi exchanged a look.
Curator: How was my acting?
Cheng Zhanxi, unable to meet his eyes, murmured: Too dramatic.
The curator closed his mouth and stepped aside. "Please come in," he said.
They entered the office, the curator offering them tea and settling into his seat to watch the proceedings.
"Are you Cheng Mo?" Yu Qingtang asked, getting straight to the point.
She showed no surprise, either because she was incredibly good at concealing her emotions, or because she was truly unfazed.
The situation unfolded differently from what Cheng Zhanxi had anticipated. She had thought Yu Qingtang would be eager to meet Cheng Mo, but she had to practically trick her into it. And even then, Yu Qingtang hadn't expressed any surprise or excitement. Cheng Zhanxi's confidence was waning. "Yes," she said calmly.
Yu Qingtang: "What do you want?"
"I wanted to give you a painting."
"I don't need one."
"That was my original intention," Cheng Zhanxi clarified.
"But thank you for the offer."
Cheng Zhanxi took a deep breath, then smiled gently. "You're welcome," she said.
Yu Qingtang sensed the underlying sadness in Cheng Zhanxi's smile. "Your paintings are beautiful. I just don't know how to appreciate them," she said sincerely.
Cheng Zhanxi smiled but didn't reply. That wasn't what she wanted.
"It's getting late. Let's go home," Cheng Zhanxi said softly.
Yu Qingtang, after a brief pause, nodded. "Okay."
The curator walked them out to the entrance.
The art museum, bathed in the setting sun, looked magnificent.
Cheng Zhanxi and Yu Qingtang got on the same bus. The route was always crowded. There weren't any seats left, and only one handrail was available, so Cheng Zhanxi let Yu Qingtang hold it, using her height advantage to grip the bar above.
Yu Qingtang seemed lost in thought, her gaze downward.
The bus driver, with the heart of a race car driver, turned sharply at a corner, causing the passengers to sway. Many passengers gasped and were thrown sideways.
Yu Qingtang was no exception.
Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handrail, her body swaying. Just then, a warm arm encircled her waist, steadying her.
Yu Qingtang's back pressed against the soft curves of Cheng Zhanxi's body, her breath catching in her throat.
The bus steadied.
Cheng Zhanxi released her.
Yu Qingtang felt a sense of unexpected disappointment.
Cheng Zhanxi, only slightly taller, her warm breath near Yu Qingtang's ear, was intensely present. Yu Qingtang subtly turned her head, looking at the other passengers to distract herself.
Her eyes fell on a man, around 170cm tall, short hair, a black t-shirt, his face covered in acne. He was pretending to look around casually while rubbing his body against a girl in front of him, repeatedly making physical contact.
The girl noticed and moved away, but the man followed, his hands still touching her.
Yu Qingtang watched, her lips pursed, saying nothing.
"Ms. Yu?" Cheng Zhanxi's voice came from above.
Yu Qingtang heard her, but she was too preoccupied. She saw the man reach into his pants.
The girl was about to cry.
"Ms. Yu?" Cheng Zhanxi said again, following her gaze, her expression turning stern.
Yu Qingtang, her heart sinking, was about to see if anyone would help when she saw a figure pushing through the crowd, kicking the man hard in the back.
The passengers scattered to avoid the commotion. The man fell hard, hitting the floor with a thud, unable to get up.
The figure stepped forward, landing an elbow strike. The man yelled in pain.
Cheng Zhanxi swiftly twisted the man's arms behind his back, her knee pressing firmly against his back. "Someone call the police," she demanded, tossing back her hair.
Her long, chestnut curls cascaded down her back, framing her beautiful face. The elegant cobalt blue dress seemed incongruous with her aggressive actions. Yu Qingtang was stunned for a moment before opening her mouth to say she would call, but the girl who had been harassed quickly pulled out her phone, her voice trembling. "I'll call the police."
Cheng Zhanxi caught her breath. "Someone else, please help hold him down, and prevent him from running," she said.
A strong man in the crowd stepped forward and held the man's struggling shoulders.
"Ms. Yu," Cheng Zhanxi said, turning back to Yu Qingtang. "You can go home now. I'll leave this creep to the police."
Yu Qingtang shook her head, her resolve firm and unwavering.
Cheng Zhanxi smiled. "Alright then," she said.
Coincidentally, they were near the spot where Cheng Zhanxi had apprehended the thief. When she arrived at the police station, she was greeted by the same female officer.
The officer smiled when she saw Cheng Zhanxi. "It's you again," she said.
Cheng Zhanxi accepted the water offered by the officer and took a sip. "I'm a law-abiding citizen," she replied with a smile.
The officer said jokingly, "You should consider joining the police force. We could use you."
Cheng Zhanxi pretended to hesitate. "But I've already joined the ranks of 'human soul engineers'," she said.
The officer was surprised. "A teacher?" she asked.
Cheng Zhanxi nodded and smiled.
The officer gave her a thumbs-up.
Turning to Yu Qingtang, she asked, "Who's this?"
Cheng Zhanxi proudly introduced her. "A teacher. A homeroom teacher, actually," she said.
The officer said enthusiastically, "Amazing!"
Yu Qingtang: "..."
Amazing? How?
By the time they left the police station, it was evening. The streets were filled with traffic.
Cheng Zhanxi had an early flight the next day and couldn't stay with Yu Qingtang, so she hailed a cab and opened the back door for Yu Qingtang.
"I'll be away from school for the next two weeks," Cheng Zhanxi said, leaning down to look into the car.
"Okay."
Waiting for a response that didn't come, Cheng Zhanxi looked at Yu Qingtang for a moment, then closed the door.
The car window slowly descended, and Cheng Zhanxi leaned in again. "Is there anything you want to say?" she asked.
Yu Qingtang looked at her silently for a while, then said, "Are you Cheng Mo?"
Cheng Zhanxi was taken aback. Hadn't they already established that at the museum?
Had she only just realized?! Had she wasted all that emotional energy for nothing?!
Yu Qingtang: "Have a safe trip."
Cheng Zhanxi: "Is that all?"
Yu Qingtang raised an eyebrow, a flicker of animation in her eyes. "Yes, that's all," she said.
Rolling up the window, she smiled.
She had a name so elegant and refined, yet her artistic name was "Mo" (Silent). Was she compensating for something?
Cheng Zhanxi: I've been silent for twenty years, and I want to be heard now.
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