The Art of Teasing - Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Wen Zhengyu caught the sharp look Wen Shishu threw her way and hastily said, "How could we let you support us two—grandfather and granddaughter? Don't you think?" She raised both hands and waved them in front of Wen Shishu's face. "Your niece has hands and feet. Supporting herself and her grandfather is no problem."
Wen Shishu gently took hold of the delicate, bone-white, porcelain-fine fingers Wen Zhengyu had thrust before her. Her first reaction was fear that this niece of hers—who had never done heavy work or endured hardship—would break those claws. This niece, aside from painting, had no other talents. But knowing how to paint could count as a skill; perhaps she wouldn't starve? She gave Wen Zhengyu an exasperated glance. Seeing the somewhat uneasy, somewhat pitiful look in her eyes, her heart involuntarily softened. In a tone that was deeply reluctant, she said, "We'll look at it first, then see."
Wen Zhengyu hugged Wen Shishu's arm and wheedled, "Thank you, Second Aunt."
Wen Shishu quickly said, "Hey, don't. Don't thank me. Let's lay the ugly truth out first. I can let you two—grandfather and granddaughter—mess around, but I've still got an elder sister above me clamping down. If the day really comes when you two mess around and bring her back here, when the time comes for her to deal with you two, I won't make a peep... Hey, she'll deal with me too." As she finished speaking, she lifted her finger and poked Wen Zhengyu's forehead. "If there comes a day you can't survive, pack yourselves up—you and your grandfather—and send yourselves over to my place." After that, she forcibly stuffed a bank card into Wen Zhengyu's hand and said sternly, "I'm not around this area all year. Your grandfather is getting on in years. Keep this money aside, so if something urgent suddenly happens, you won't be left scrambling." Her tone shifted. "Business deals, the market—it's a battlefield. There are profits and losses. Old Third lost his investment, so be it. Money, that stuff, comes and goes; that's all there is to it. The family still has your Eldest Aunt and me. It won't collapse yet. As for you, if you run into a difficult situation or want to do something, don't hide it and hold it in. That'll only make us worry more."
Wen Zhengyu suppressed the bitter feeling in her heart, softly hummed an "Mm," and nuzzled her face against Wen Shishu's shoulder. Then she said, "I still have to pack my luggage. Second Aunt, please make yourself comfortable."
Wen Shishu gently patted Wen Zhengyu's back, looked at the emptied house, quietly sighed inwardly to herself, and turned and went out.
Anything in the house that could be sold had been sold off. What remained to be packed and taken away were only scattered personal belongings. What needed tidying up was more a matter of mood.
Leaving the place where she had lived for over twenty years, filled with countless memories—Wen Zhengyu felt, beyond reluctance, faint loss and sorrow, but also a bit of freshness and a subtle excitement about going out into the world and facing society. The feeling was somewhat like a fledgling leaving the nest, although as a twenty-six-year-old grown girl, she could hardly be considered a fledgling anymore.
She packed her luggage into boxes and sealed them, then went to the living room, only to see that the atmosphere between Old Master Wen and Madam Wen Shishu was somewhat off—it seemed they had been arguing again. Their personalities clashed. When they got together, they were guaranteed to start arguing within half an hour. Every time they met, they were like two fighting cocks. Wen Zhengyu was used to it already. She instinctively wanted to withdraw and give the two of them space to keep quarreling, but then suddenly felt that arguing at this time could probably only be about the matter of resettlement.
In the living room, besides a few tea stools beside the tea table, everything had been moved out. There was nowhere else to sit.
Wen Zhengyu could only steel herself and sit down between Old Master Wen and Wen Shishu. Silently, carefully, she gathered all the tea utensils on the tea table in front of herself, deathly afraid that if the two of them got agitated, they'd stage another drama of throwing teacups at each other and she, sitting in the middle, would suffer the collateral damage.
She listened for a while before understanding they were arguing about staff dismissals. Specifically, about whether to continue retaining the family physician and driver. She understood that her grandfather wanted to cut expenses. Her Second Aunt believed that Old Master Wen needed a family physician to monitor his health and that a driver to accompany Old Master Wen on daily outings was also essential. As she sat without saying a word, she still got caught in the crossfire: "If you only keep Yu'er by your side, what if you fall or trip? Yu'er can't even pick up a fallen soy sauce bottle, much less pick you up."
Wen Zhengyu, caught in the crossfire, turned her head towards her Second Aunt with a very speechless expression.
Wen Shishu sensed Wen Zhengyu's gaze, understood what Wen Zhengyu was about to say, and asked her, "Just tell me, have you ever picked up a soy sauce bottle?"
Wen Zhengyu's heart secretly felt stifled. She thought: "Who has nothing better to do than go pick up a soy sauce bottle?"
Old Master Wen and Madam Wen Shishu argued for a long time, neither willing to yield. In the end, they dumped the difficult problem onto her. She said, "May I ask, which family staff members are being dismissed?"
Old Master Wen indicated that he knew she couldn't cook or buy groceries, so they were keeping A Yuan.
A Yuan—Sun Yuan—whom she called Aunt Sun, had worked at her home for over twenty years.
Wen Zhengyu also felt that indeed, expenses could be cut in other areas. Since her family no longer had a large garden, they didn't need a gardener. Without so many valuable ornaments in the house, they didn't need to worry about people coveting them and didn't need so many bodyguards. With a smaller residence, they didn't need so many people to clean. Many aspects could indeed be reduced, but they couldn't cut everything. She said, "Grandfather, Uncle Zhan Cheng has been driving for our family for over ten years too, right?"
Wen Ru lifted his eyelids towards Wen Zhengyu.
Wen Zhengyu said slowly, "I've heard that Uncle Zhan's child is taking the college entrance exams this year. It's precisely a time of high pressure. For you to make him lose his job now—how bad that is." Her tone shifted. "If a soy sauce bottle falls, I can pick it up. But with your weight, old man, if you trip or fall, Aunt Sun and I together still couldn't lift you up. With Uncle Zhan, with Dr. Shen, I can be at ease. Otherwise, if one day you really do bang yourself accidentally, I'll be the one taking the blame."
Wen Ru glared at Wen Zhengyu, stifled and aggrieved. But seeing his own granddaughter, so delicate and frail she looked like the wind could blow her away, he inwardly sighed in resignation. He considered himself hale and hearty, but couldn't hold up against having a granddaughter who couldn't shoulder a load or carry anything with her hands, who hadn't experienced life's storms. Yet seeing that despite such a huge upheaval in the family, his granddaughter hadn't panicked or flustered but had been methodically helping to handle affairs, his old heart felt somewhat soothed. At least this child could still shoulder things, and knew how to be considerate of him. Old Master Wen said grudgingly, "Fine, have it your way." He got up and left.
Although Ye Ling had given them ample time to move, Wen Zhengyu, after finishing packing her luggage, moved out of the mansion together with Old Master Wen. They moved to a residence of her Second Aunt's by the lake.
That residence was also an old house. Its construction history could be traced back to before Liberation: a small courtyard of grey bricks, grey-and-white walls. Upon entering the gate was a modestly sized area with a bit of a rockery, some potted plants, a dug-out little pond, and even a small bridge you could cross in two steps. The courtyard wasn't large, but it was enough for Old Master Wen to do several sets of tai chi fitness exercises every morning upon rising. The building was a two-story small house: upstairs were three bedrooms; downstairs was the living room, kitchen, a one-room study, and a bathroom.
The rooms were slightly small, half the size of her previous bedroom—after all, her old bedroom had also connected to a study originally used by the young masters and misses for studying, which had been remodeled into her walk-in closet. Fortunately, she didn't have many things now; she could fit them in.
The furnishings in the house were complete. Many items had been newly procured and replaced.
She could see that before they moved in, her Second Aunt had put considerable thought into fixing up this house.
This whole area of houses belonged to the old city district, demarcated within a commercial tourist pedestrian street. It was just that her Second Aunt's house was slightly off the beaten path, so tourists rarely wandered this way. But it wasn't far from the lake. Push open the window, and your gaze, brushing past the black roof tiles outside, could see the willows by the lake and the glittering ripples of the water. Her Second Aunt had also very thoughtfully placed a writing desk in front of the window, and on the desk even set a brush holder—was she preparing for her to sit by the window, gazing at the lake and painting?
Although moving to a new home made things temporarily somewhat unfamiliar, it was still far better than facing the emptied, desolate large mansion every day.
Her Second Aunt asked about her plans. Learning that she wanted to find a job, before returning to the capital, she had helped contact several positions for her, telling her to take some time to go see if any were suitable—all related to her painting. Her master and her senior apprentice brother also asked if she was willing to come to their art studio.
Wen Zhengyu hadn't figured it out yet.
When she painted, she didn't just copy landscapes and scenery before her, didn't merely take what she saw, infuse it with her own spirit through the brush, and render it onto paper. Her paintings all existed within her mind's eye. When painting, she needed stillness—stillness of the person, stillness of the heart—forgetting everything around her in reality, immersing herself in the world of the painting, using the brush in her hand to outline and depict, stroke by stroke, bit by bit, the scenes and images that floated through that mental realm. When she painted, those mountain spirits, ghosts, monsters, demons, immortals, and gods in her mind's eye were all alive. They had their own greed, anger, delusion, love, and desires. Like the vicissitudes of this mortal world, they enacted the shifting seas and mulberry fields, rights and wrongs, disputes and grievances.
If her heart was not still, she could not paint.
These changes in her family, the things that happened, the sold paintings—each individual matter didn't seem like some insurmountable catastrophe. But piled up one after another, they tangled her heart somewhat, and she still hadn't quite figured out her future work plans.
She simply set aside her painting brushes to do other things: playing chess with Old Master Wen, drinking tea, quieting her heart, calming her spirit, trying to empty herself and sort out her thoughts. Yet the world full of mountain spirits and strange monsters kept surfacing in the depths of her mind.
In the afternoon, her senior apprentice brother, Fan Feng, came over.
Fan Feng was the prized disciple of her master, Qi Qianshu. Like her grandfather, he enjoyed painting birds and flowers, though one painted in the Realist style and the other in the Freehand style.
Wen Zhengyu buried her head in painting all day, wishing she could block her ears to all outside matters. Her senior apprentice brother was not entirely like that. He greatly championed marketing, often saying, "As the saying goes, even the finest wine fears a deep alleyway." Art exhibitions, joint exhibitions, auctions, various media organizations, online marketing—you could often find traces of his activities. Barely past thirty, his career was already showing modest success.
Fan Feng had come this time with contracts. No sooner had he sat down than he said, "Junior Sister, I know you're ethereal like an immortal, but even immortals have to eat, don't they?"
Wen Zhengyu poured a cup of tea for her senior apprentice brother and said, "Immortals—just dining on wind and sleeping in the dew is enough. No need to eat."
Fan Feng accepted the tea with both hands and said, "I just feel it's too much of a pity for your talent to languish in obscurity. Look at your Weibo—I photographed your paintings and uploaded them, and in no time, casually got you over two hundred thousand followers. Real followers too—I didn't buy any for you."
Wen Zhengyu said flatly, "I saw. You also uploaded photos of my back and profile while I was painting, even blurred out my face with a mosaic."
Fan Feng, without blushing or breathing hard, said, "The painter herself—" He got to this point, caught the look in Wen Zhengyu's eyes, swallowed his words back, and corrected himself: "Look at the contract."
Wen Zhengyu took the contracts and found there were two: one was a contract inviting her to join the studio, the other a contract inviting her to participate in an art exhibition. She handed the exhibition contract back to Fan Feng and said, "My paintings have all been sold."
The way Fan Feng watched Wen Zhengyu return the contract told him it must be that same old line again: "My paintings aren't for sale, and right now I don't want to exhibit them either." So he just said "Oh," and after he'd said it, he realized this "Oh" was a bit off—it didn't seem like she was saying she wouldn't sell. He said, "I didn't catch that just now."
Wen Zhengyu said, "My paintings have all been sold."
Fan Feng looked Wen Zhengyu over and over. After a long while, he asked, "You're fooling me, right? You would sell your paintings?" He felt his junior sister was the type who would sooner sell herself than sell her paintings.
Wen Zhengyu, having held it in these past few days, had come to terms with it somewhat. She said very calmly, "Sold them. Sold them as a throw-in along with my grandfather's mansion." She kept the contract inviting her to join Fan Feng's studio and said, "This one—I must ask my senior brother to allow me to consider it."
Fan Feng said, "No problem." He asked with immense disbelief, "Who did you sell them to? The Kunlun Myriad Demons Scroll—was that sold too? The Goddess Bathing painting—was that also sold?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "I even sold the scribbles from when I was three years old along with them. Not a single one left behind, including that half-finished piece... the other party bought that as well." Mentioning this matter made her feel a surge of stifled resentment.
A half-finished painting—only halfway done—Ye Ling's one line: "It was agreed that 'all paintings in this Painting Hall'..."
Wen Zhengyu had left behind an unfinished half-completed piece in the sold Painting Hall.
Fan Feng's heart thundered as if a herd of strangely-shaped animals was stampeding through it. He asked again, "Who bought your paintings?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "A woman named Ye Ling."
Fan Feng: "..." He asked, "Ye Ling of Yushan Group?"
Wen Zhengyu said, "She left a personal business card. I don't know which company she's from."
Fan Feng was utterly speechless. He sighed, pressed his palms together, and said, "Immortal Yu, I, your senior brother, beg you—come to your brother's place. Don't accidentally sell yourself one day without realizing it."
Wen Zhengyu swept a flat glance at Fan Feng and said, "If you have something to say, say it. What's the deal with Ye Ling?"
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