After Escaping Marriage - Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Yu Qingtang returned from the old town on Sunday evening. As she opened the door to her apartment, her gaze swept across Cheng Mo's "Blizzard" hanging on the opposite wall. A strange feeling washed over her, and she instinctively looked away.
She had brought some papers back from school to grade. Sitting at her desk in the quiet study, the only sound the scratching of her pen against the paper in the otherwise silent, upscale apartment complex, she suddenly stopped writing, her pen hovering in mid-air, her gaze unfocused, her mind wandering.
—"There are always such pretentious fools."
—"What do you think of this one?"
—"I asked the gallery staff, and they say Cheng Mo is here. Would you… like to meet her?"
—"Are you Cheng Mo?"
—"I wanted to give you a painting."
—"I don't need one."
—"That was my original intention."
Yu Qingtang snapped back to reality, looked down at the two thin stacks of papers beside her, put down her pen, and went to the living room.
In "Blizzard," the fishing boat was still caught in the storm, the waves like a gaping maw, the colors and movement of the churning water creating a powerful, dynamic scene. The wind and snow seemed to reach out from the canvas, drawing the viewer into the fishing boat's precarious struggle for survival.
Previously, Yu Qingtang had seen herself in the painting, but now, all she could see was Cheng Zhanxi.
How could Cheng Zhanxi be the artist behind this painting?
Had she misheard yesterday? Or had she imagined the whole thing, the visit to the art museum nothing more than a dream?
Because of her mother, Yu Qingtang had always harbored a special sentiment towards painters, towards the profession itself. She had often dreamt of living a different life, one where she, like her mother, Yu Ci, became a painter, even though she had never held a brush in her hand.
Humans yearn for the distant and unknown, yet they also seek their roots, their origins.
All her imaginings about her mother had been projected onto paintings, onto painters. If she had to choose a word to describe it, she had placed painters on a pedestal, like an untouchable, idealized figure.
For personal reasons, she had deliberately avoided paying attention to artists. But now, she had met one, a real, living artist, who would talk to her, smile at her. Her idealized figure had not only descended from her pedestal, becoming a familiar colleague, but was also someone she often found annoyingly talkative.
Yu Qingtang held her water glass, unconsciously biting the rim.
How had things turned out this way?
How was she supposed to face Ms. Cheng now?
She covered her face with her hands and sighed deeply. That night, Yu Qingtang tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Cheng Zhanxi at the art museum, in her elegant cobalt blue dress, her long, wavy hair cascading down her back, a strand occasionally falling forward as she spoke, its subtle fragrance filling the air.
Cheng, the painter, her voice soft and gentle, had asked, "What do you think of this one?"
How had she replied?
—"Too flashy."
How could she have said such a thing to the artist herself?
Yu Qingtang was filled with regret. She turned over, pulling the blanket over her head.
On Monday morning, Yu Qingtang entered the office, deliberately avoiding looking at Cheng Zhanxi's desk. Even though Cheng Zhanxi had taken two weeks off, she was still worried Cheng Zhanxi might suddenly appear, defying all logic. She couldn't focus on her work that morning, her mind elsewhere.
When the warning bell rang for the third period, Yu Qingtang gathered her books and lesson plan and left the office, and the gossip session began.
The female biology teacher tapped her pen on her desk, attracting the attention of her colleagues. "Did you see that?" she said. "Ms. Cheng's not even here, and Ms. Yu's already lost her soul!"
The physics teacher said, "That's what being in love is like. Just like when I was young."
The chemistry teacher, adjusting his glasses, said, "We just saw a hint of something last week. I don't think they're officially together yet."
The female biology teacher said, "Young people these days get married on a whim. Two days is more than enough time to go from a spark to a flame."
Yang Li, the English teacher, entered the office. "What are you all talking about?" she asked with a smile.
The female biology teacher enthusiastically filled her in.
When Yu Qingtang returned to the office, the atmosphere seemed different, but she wasn't interested in office gossip. She walked straight to her desk.
Yang Li suddenly looked towards the door. "Ms. Cheng?" she said.
Yu Qingtang's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively looked towards the door.
But the hallway was empty.
A few students were playing and chatting by the window.
Yu Qingtang's breathing returned to normal as she took a sip of water.
Yang Li, resting her chin in her hand, sighed. "The first day without Ms. Cheng, and I already miss her," she said.
Yu Qingtang: "..."
The female biology teacher teased, "Missing her so much you're hallucinating?"
Yang Li said, "Yes! Without her, there's no one to compliment my new hairstyle."
The female biology teacher smiled and said, "I'll compliment you. Your hair looks great, Ms. Yang."
Yang Li held out her hand, playfully rolling her eyes. "I got a new manicure, actually," she said.
Yu Qingtang tuned them out.
The two teachers chatted for a bit, then, seeing that Yu Qingtang wasn't responding, they stopped.
It was Monday morning, and the teachers, still recovering from the weekend, were sluggish and unmotivated. With the two teachers' chatter ceasing, the office became incredibly quiet, the silence so profound you could hear a pin drop.
Yu Qingtang turned a page in her book, glanced towards Cheng Zhanxi's empty desk, and unconsciously pursed her lips.
Class 7's schedule was posted on Yu Qingtang's desk. They had a PE lesson that afternoon, covered by a senior teacher from Class 8, so Yu Qingtang didn't need to worry. Ten minutes into the PE lesson, she closed her book, exhaled softly, and went to the field.
The Class 7 students were lined up under their usual tree, the music playing, someone leading the dance, the others following.
With the sports meet fast approaching, practice time was limited, and even without Cheng Zhanxi, the Class 7 students were determined to put on a good performance, to bring honor to their class.
Yu Qingtang took out her phone, found Cheng Zhanxi in her contacts, and looked at her profile picture. It was a detail from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling – a famous image, but one Yu Qingtang hadn't paid much attention to before. Seeing it now, she felt a different kind of appreciation.
She had initially intended to message Cheng Zhanxi, telling her that the students were practicing diligently, but her fingers, seemingly with a mind of their own, tapped on Cheng Zhanxi's profile picture, opening her Moments.
Cheng Zhanxi's Moments were public, mostly filled with artwork – paintings, sketches, sculptures – endless grids of images. There were very few photos of herself. Yu Qingtang scrolled down, finally finding a photo from March, a picture of Cheng Zhanxi and the cross-dresser, Yu Jianxing, with the art sculpture at Zhongting Square in the background.
There was another photo, taken by Yu Jianxing, of Cheng Zhanxi looking up at the sculpture, her profile tinged with a melancholic beauty, as if tears were about to fall from her eyes.
The sky was a dusky hue, her figure blending into the twilight.
The image was stunning, more like a painting than a photograph.
It took all of Yu Qingtang's willpower not to save the photo.
Yu Qingtang took a deep breath, returned to the chat interface, and sent Cheng Zhanxi a message: [The students are practicing their dance.]
Cheng Zhanxi didn't reply immediately.
Florence, Italy, the birthplace of the Renaissance, a city that had nurtured countless great artists, including Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo, their influence still felt today. It was a world-renowned cultural center and artistic paradise.
Home to the world's first academy of fine arts, the Accademia di Belle Arti di Firenze, it stood alongside the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, the Repin Academy of Arts in Russia, and the Royal Academy of Arts in London, as one of the "Big Four" art academies. [Note]
The city center retained its ancient Roman layout, its numerous historical buildings well-preserved. Walking through the old streets of Florence, one often felt a sense of timelessness. "The spirit of Dante Alighieri, the artistic soul of Leonardo da Vinci, still linger in the air, still seeking the people and events of the Renaissance." [Note]
It once had another name – Firenze – still used by many, a name that evoked a sense of nostalgia and longing. It was a city steeped in history, art, and culture, its museums and galleries scattered throughout, a jewel among art capitals, a paradise for artists.
Cheng Zhanxi stood on Piazzale Michelangelo, across the Arno River, the wind blowing against her face as she gazed at the beautiful city of Florence.
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at her phone.
[Yu Qingtang]: The students are practicing their dance.
[Cheng Zhanxi]: Thank you for looking after them, Ms. Yu.
It was evening in China, eight hours ahead. Cheng Zhanxi put her phone away after sending the message.
Normally, Yu Qingtang wouldn't reply so quickly.
But this time, her phone buzzed almost immediately.
[Yu Qingtang]: It's my duty as their homeroom teacher.
[Cheng Zhanxi]: What are you doing, Ms. Yu?
[Yu Qingtang]: Preparing for my lessons.
Cheng Zhanxi glanced at her watch, calculating the time in China: 11 p.m.
[Cheng Zhanxi]: Preparing for your lessons so late?
[Yu Qingtang]: A few students are struggling to adapt to the pace of No. 1 High. Their grades are slipping. I'm trying to find ways to help them.
Cheng Zhanxi raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Yu Qingtang was actually sharing so much information! This wasn't like her. A simple "okay" would have been more her style.
[Cheng Zhanxi]: You're working hard. Shoulder massage
Cheng Zhanxi took a photo of the replica of Michelangelo's David in the center of the square and sent it to Yu Qingtang.
Yu Qingtang opened the image.
She recognized the statue of David from her middle school textbooks.
Where was Cheng Zhanxi?
[System notification: Cheng Mo has withdrawn a message.]
[Cheng Zhanxi]: It's just a replica. I won't show you. I'll take you to see the original someday.
Yu Qingtang searched online: Where is the original statue of David? The answer: The original David by Michelangelo is housed in the Galleria dell'Accademia, the crown jewel of the Accademia Gallery in Florence, Italy.
Yu Qingtang still couldn't quite believe it. She almost wished Cheng Zhanxi was lying.
[Cheng Zhanxi]: I'm here for an art exhibition.
As if interrupted mid-sentence, another message from Cheng Zhanxi popped up:
[Gotta go. I'm meeting my teacher. Get some sleep. Goodnight.]
Yu Qingtang: "..."
The next afternoon, Yu Qingtang saw a new update on Cheng Zhanxi's Moments.
The location tag: Uffizi Gallery · Florence. The post contained a photo of a painting – Leonardo da Vinci's unfinished "Adoration of the Magi" – and a group photo. There were six people in the photo, two elderly men in academic robes, and four younger people, including Cheng Zhanxi. Amidst the group of Europeans with blond hair and blue eyes, Cheng Zhanxi's Asian features stood out.
Yu Qingtang: "..."
Yang Li, seeing Yu Qingtang covering her face with her hands, asked with concern, "Are you alright, Ms. Yu?"
Yu Qingtang lowered her hands, her expression returning to normal. "I'm fine," she said.
Yu Qingtang exited Cheng Zhanxi's Moments, still reeling from the confirmation. She didn't notice that Cheng Zhanxi's post, usually flooded with likes and comments, was devoid of any feedback from her colleagues.
Cheng Zhanxi had restricted the visibility of her posts. While she had many friends, very few knew what she actually did.
In this aspect, she was surprisingly private, a stark contrast to her usual outgoing personality.
But she was also sincere and honest. Having realized Yu Qingtang had seen her art exhibition, she had openly revealed her identity, a gesture of respect and honesty she felt Yu Qingtang deserved.
Life at No. 1 High continued as usual.
Two classes a day, flag-raising ceremony on Mondays, morning exercises during the second and third periods, the school radio playing music during lunch and in the evenings. After an autumn rain, the leaves started turning yellow, the colors deepening with each passing day.
Yu Qingtang followed Cheng Zhanxi's Moments, vicariously experiencing her vibrant life in Italy.
A photo of a long queue in front of the Accademia Gallery, taken at 8 a.m., with the caption: [Sneaking in a quick visit before my teacher calls me back. The gallery opens at 8:15].
Photos of the Duomo, Pitti Palace, Ponte Vecchio, Fountain of Neptune, and various streets and alleys.
Photos of sculptures, paintings, prints, and various other art forms.
And photos of her own paintings for the exhibition, displayed in the gallery, without captions, but with the name "Cheng Mo" on the labels.
Through Cheng Zhanxi's Moments, Yu Qingtang felt as if she was traveling with her, experiencing the ancient yet vibrant city of Florence. A sense of longing stirred within her, her usually calm heart rippling with unfamiliar emotions.
As for school, Ms. Cheng was temporarily absent, but her legend lived on.
In Classes 7 and 17, the two classes Cheng Zhanxi taught, especially in Class 7, every time a student entered the office, they would glance at Cheng Zhanxi's empty desk and ask the other teachers, "Has Ms. Cheng said when she'll be back?"
The female biology teacher, glancing at Yu Qingtang, would reply with a smile, "Why don't you ask Ms. Yu? She's closest to Ms. Cheng."
The student would invariably decline, a look of terror on their face.
The biology teacher, watching the student scurry away, turned to Yu Qingtang. "Why are your students so afraid of you, Ms. Yu?" she asked.
She had been a homeroom teacher herself. Female teachers were generally less strict and more approachable, so students tended to be more comfortable around them.
Yu Qingtang said indifferently, "I don't know." Then, after a moment, tilting her head slightly, she asked, her tone genuinely curious, "Is that a bad thing?"
The biology teacher was stumped. After a pause, she said cautiously, "It's not necessarily bad. It depends on your teaching style." Class 7 seemed to be doing well academically, ranked among the top half of the grade level, with no subjects lagging behind, especially math and physics, thanks to the two Jinghua University graduates. They were both excellent teachers.
In exam-oriented education, weren't academic results the most important metric?
Yu Qingtang: "Okay."
The biology teacher felt something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. "But I still think it's better to be closer to your students," she said, lowering her voice. "Especially now, at the beginning of the first semester. They're still a little intimidated by you. Later, when they get more comfortable, they might be harder to manage."
Yu Qingtang looked at her intently.
The biology teacher continued, whispering, "For example, you need to cultivate your informants in the class, your eyes and ears. It's exhausting to keep an eye on so many students all by yourself."
"Aren't the class representatives supposed to do that?" Yu Qingtang asked.
"That depends on whether the representatives are on your side or on the students' side. If everyone's conspiring against you, you're in trouble," the biology teacher replied.
Yu Qingtang looked thoughtful.
She had noticed Li Lan's subtle dissatisfaction lately. While she still performed her duties as class monitor, her attitude had changed significantly. The other day, at school, Li Lan had seen Yu Qingtang from afar and had taken a different route to avoid her.
The other class representatives, having less interaction with Yu Qingtang, hadn't noticed anything unusual. Lian Yabing, the math representative, was an exception. She was becoming increasingly proactive, constantly visiting the teachers' office, always asking about Cheng Zhanxi. She was much bolder than the other students, a more extreme version of Tong Feifei, even daring to ask Yu Qingtang directly.
Yu Qingtang always gave the same calm reply: "She'll be back after her vacation."
Lian Yabing would always respond with a knowing smile Yu Qingtang couldn't decipher.
Yu Qingtang hadn't paid much attention to it. The math representative, apart from being a little talkative, seemed normal.
The autumn sports meet was scheduled for Friday and Saturday, with Sunday being a regular day off.
There was no class meeting that week, so Yu Qingtang used the last period on Thursday for a class meeting, explaining the rules and regulations, reminding them about the opening ceremony on Friday morning, telling them to wear their uniforms and not to be late, and so on. Attendance wasn't compulsory, but she encouraged them to participate. After all, it was their first high school sports meet. The athletes had been practicing hard, even learning a special dance routine, and their classmates should show their support.
Yu Qingtang read through the notes she had prepared, then, with ten minutes left, and evening self-study cancelled, assuming they wouldn't be able to focus on their studies anyway, she decided to let them go early.
"Be careful on your way home. No running or playing on the streets. That's all for today. Class…"
Tong Feifei raised her hand, interrupting her. "Ms. Yu!"
Yu Qingtang looked at her.
Tong Feifei: "Is Ms. Cheng back yet?"
Yu Qingtang: "She hasn't told me."
The class groaned, slumping over their desks, disappointed.
Yu Qingtang was puzzled. Cheng Zhanxi had only taught them for a few weeks, less than a month. Why were they so devoted to her, treating a sports meet like a major event?
Yu Qingtang asked, "What did she tell you?"
Tong Feifei said, her face downcast, "She said she'd try her best, and if she couldn't make it back in time, she told us to do our best and win medals."
Yu Qingtang nodded. "Ms. Cheng is right," she said.
Tong Feifei's eyes suddenly lit up. "Ms. Yu, could you call Ms. Cheng now and ask her when she'll be back?" she asked, then sighed. "We need a definite answer," she said.
Yu Qingtang: "..."
Tong Feifei bit her lip, her eyes pleading.
"Please?"
The scene reminded Yu Qingtang of Cheng Zhanxi at the art museum, asking her to go meet Cheng Mo. Yu Qingtang shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the image, and said, "I can call her, but I can't guarantee she'll answer. Ms. Cheng is very busy lately."
"What's she busy with?" Tong Feifei blurted out.
Yu Qingtang looked at her pointedly, a silent warning in her eyes.
"Her own personal matters."
Tong Feifei buried her face in her arms, feigning death.
Under the watchful eyes of her students, Yu Qingtang suddenly felt nervous. Calling a teacher was perfectly normal, but this teacher was different. This was Cheng Mo, the artist she had always admired, almost to the point of reverence.
Though, applied to Cheng Zhanxi, the idea seemed almost comical.
With a mix of complicated emotions, and a hint of anticipation, Yu Qingtang dialed Cheng Zhanxi's number.
Ring… ring…
After two rings, the call was answered. A polite but emotionless voice said, "Hello."
Yu Qingtang: "???"
She looked down at her phone, confirming it was Cheng Zhanxi's number, and then replied, "...Hello."
Cheng Zhanxi's voice immediately softened. "I'm sorry, I didn't see the caller ID," she said, gesturing to her companion and moving to a quieter area. "What made you call me so suddenly?" she asked gently.
Cheng Zhanxi didn't usually share much about her personal life on social media, but Yu Qingtang was so reserved, never asking what she was up to, that Cheng Zhanxi had resorted to posting updates.
In a relationship, someone had to make an effort.
Yu Qingtang rarely reacted to her posts, while Cheng Zhanxi's frequent updates had surprised her other friends, who had commented, asking if she was traveling, if she was in love, demanding she turn on her camera and show them her surroundings. Cheng Zhanxi had eventually restricted the visibility of her posts.
On her last day in Florence, she finally received a call from Yu Qingtang. All the longing she had been suppressing for days surged forth, and she wished she could fly back to Yu Qingtang immediately.
Before Yu Qingtang could speak, Cheng Zhanxi said quickly, "I'll be back tomorrow. I might not make it in time for the opening ceremony, but I'll arrive in the afternoon. Can I come see you at school?"
Yu Qingtang gave a quiet "hmm" in response.
Cheng Zhanxi, listening to her breathing, her heart racing, cleared her throat and asked, "So, why did you call…?"
She was hoping for some sweet words, some acknowledgement of the longing she had been enduring.
Yu Qingtang replied, "It's nothing now."
Cheng Zhanxi: "You just wanted to ask when I was coming back?"
Yu Qingtang, biting her lip, gave a quiet "hmm."
Cheng Zhanxi smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
No need for further interpretation. Yu Qingtang clearly missed her.
Cheng Zhanxi, standing in a small art gallery, the Duomo and Giotto's Campanile visible in the distance, pedestrians passing by outside, said softly into the phone, "I'll be there tomorrow. I promise."
Cheng Zhanxi asked about her students, and they chatted for a bit longer. Even after the call ended, Yu Qingtang couldn't explain why she hadn't told Cheng Zhanxi the truth: that her students had asked her to call.
Cheng Zhanxi: Have I become her "white moonlight" now?
Ms. Cheng will return in the next chapter. Their relationship will enter a rather interesting "ambiguous" phase. Haha.
Thank you for your patience. 66 red envelopes will be given out in the comments section of this chapter.
[Note 1]: There are two versions of the "Big Four" art academies ranking online.
[Note 2]: Quote from Chen Yunhe's "Florence is Still Young".
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