The Art of Teasing - Chapter 16
Chapter 16
The ribbon-cutting and speeches were all just procedural steps in the flow of the event; the painting exhibition was the true centerpiece of the opening.
Wen Li and Ye Ling were both laypeople in this domain, so the task of presenting the paintings at the exhibition fell to Wen Zhengyu.
This time, her audience wasn't just senior peers and predecessors, but also news media, online media outlets, and guests from a vast array of industries. Fortunately, she had been studying painting since childhood. Though her personal fame hadn't yet reached first-tier status, her connoisseurship was formidable. Moreover, the paintings she was introducing were works she had specifically asked Wen Li to personally solicit on her behalf; she knew every piece inside and out. To avoid any oversights, she had even communicated and discussed the presentation approach with the senior artists who created these works just the day before.
Her introductions essentially followed a structure: first, identify which renowned painter created this piece, then offer a detailed background on the artist—their prominent titles, major awards they had won, their artistic specialties, and their most famous representative works. After that, she would introduce the specific features and characteristics of the painting itself. For those artists willing to face the public and media, Wen Zhengyu would also, at appropriate moments, invite them to the front of their paintings to personally introduce the works to the press.
Though there were many paintings and introducing each one required considerable time, the schedule arranged for the exhibition was more than sufficient. Wen Zhengyu proceeded according to the timing and rhythm Wen Li and Ye Ling had prearranged, moving neither too quickly nor too slowly, perfectly poised.
Wen Zhengyu had initially thought she would be extremely nervous facing so many media outlets and guests from every industry. Yet, the moment she spoke of the paintings, the paintings themselves became the most vivid splash of color in her vision.
Honestly, she had no love for business. Engaging in commerce was purely a matter of survival.
But when she was introducing these paintings—facing them, bringing them to a broader audience for understanding and recognition, introducing more people to the artists who created these works—she felt once again as though she was stepping into the world within the paintings. The difference was, before, she had painted alone; today, she was displaying other people's paintings, sharing them.
Good paintings, good works, possess their own souls. Looking at a painting, one can see the world within it—a world originating from reality yet transcending it. It carries a certain corner, a certain crevice, a particular piece of heaven and earth. A painting is an inanimate object, but when it falls upon human eyes, it can evoke an emotional and spiritual resonance. People say music knows no national boundaries. The same is true for painting.
After finishing her introduction of the artworks, she briefly presented the painting auction scheduled for one month later.
She was now a businesswoman. Keeping paintings in hand was not art collection; it was tied-up capital.
Once she had finished speaking and the media concluded their interviews, Ye Ling came over and handed her a bottle of mineral water. "Have some water. Rest a bit."
Wen Zhengyu's mouth and throat were parched. A part of her was reluctant to drink the water Ye Ling offered, but Ye Ling had already twisted open the cap and held it right in front of her, and the bottled water station was still some distance away. She couldn't very well reject Ye Ling's gesture and goodwill. She accepted the water, murmured a word of thanks, and first moistened her lips and throat.
"Rest for a while first," Ye Ling said. "I've arranged for people to escort them to the restaurant. You can come over later."
A strange sensation flickered through Wen Zhengyu's heart. Why did she feel like Ye Ling seemed rather concerned about her? Had she come specifically to deliver water and tell her to rest? She instinctively glanced outside the studio toward Wen Li, who was busy greeting guests. Wen Li had been so swamped all morning she hadn't even spared her a single look. Yet she and Ye Ling had inadvertently exchanged quite a few glances today. More precisely, whenever she inadvertently swept her gaze toward Ye Ling, she found Ye Ling already watching her. Their eyes would meet, Ye Ling would offer a faint smile, then shift her gaze away.
But she couldn't exactly ask Ye Ling, "Are you concerned about me?"—that kind of self-flattering nonsense. So she merely offered a polite word of thanks and suppressed the strange feeling.
Ye Ling, concerned about her? They were neither relatives nor close friends. At most, Ye Ling perhaps had some slightly eccentric fondness for her paintings, plus a recent business collaboration. Dragging "concern" into it seemed absurd.
Wen Zhengyu drank half the bottle before her thirst was quenched. She said to Ye Ling, "I'm going to touch up my makeup." She retreated to the small attached restroom in her office for a brief break.
Though she said "touch up makeup," there really wasn't much to touch up. Mainly, she wanted to wash her face and straighten up her appearance.
She disliked caking powder on her face. She only ever applied moisturizer, with the occasional use of a light-colored lip gloss or tint. Anyway, she was still young; her face wasn't aged or marred by neglect. She took reasonable care of her skin and hadn't abused her face too much, so she could appear in public with a bare face and get away with it.
Just after she finished washing her face, her phone rang. She picked up and saw it was her driver, Li Bin, calling.
Li Bin informed her that Ye Ling had said there weren't enough cars and wanted him to help shuttle guests to the restaurant.
Wen Zhengyu thought to herself: The transportation was arranged in advance, and chartered buses were already deployed. Still not enough? But then she recalled they had also arranged parking in advance, and even the parking hadn't been sufficient today.
Then Ye Ling's voice came through the phone. "Zhengyu, I'll have Mr. Li take the elder gentlemen over first. You can ride with me later. Is that alright?"
Wen Zhengyu thought: You've already called personally to ask; can I say no? She replied, "That's fine."
She finished washing her face, applied a touch of lip gloss, slightly adjusted her hair and clothes, then headed downstairs to go to the restaurant. As she stepped out of the studio's main entrance, she saw a black sedan parked outside. The driver's side window was rolled down, and Ye Ling was sitting in the driver's seat.
Seeing her emerge, Ye Ling leaned over and pushed open the passenger-side door.
Wen Zhengyu, accustomed to always sitting in the back seat, paused slightly in surprise before settling into the passenger seat and immediately fastening her seatbelt.
"My driver was also commandeered," Ye Ling explained.
Wen Zhengyu replied politely, "I never imagined CEO Ye would personally drive. I feel deeply honored."
Ye Ling let out a soft laugh and pulled the car onto the road.
The car moved very slowly, crawling along the lakeside road.
Wen Zhengyu gazed out the window at the gilded parasol trees.
It was the season of falling leaves. The trees were crowned in brilliant gold, the ground carpeted in layer upon layer of fallen leaves, illuminated by the autumn sunlight and a slightly bleak, desolate wind. It was as beautiful as the sunset clouds at dusk.
The phoenix perches on the parasol tree.
A hundred birds dare not perch on the parasol tree; they yield it solely to the phoenix.
Legend had it that the parasol tree understood the seasons and the celestial order. It was a spiritual tree, the king among trees. The phoenix, king of all birds, chose the parasol tree upon which to perch.
Wen Zhengyu thought of the phoenix, and her mind once again returned to her painting, Phoenix Falls from the Ninth Heaven. The recent busyness had left her with no time to even pick up a brush. She supposed that once this period passed and everything was on the right track, things would improve.
Neither she nor Ye Ling were talkative people. Neither of them uttered a sound, riding in silence all the way to the restaurant.
Wen Zhengyu rather appreciated this quality in Ye Ling—her dislike of idle chatter.
On opening day, she was so frantically busy she barely had time to touch the ground with her feet. By the time she returned home that evening, she was utterly exhausted, collapsing in a heap.
Thankfully, the entire day had passed smoothly.
Dragging her weary body, Wen Zhengyu took a shower and then collapsed into bed.
The next day, she went to the studio. The finance department reported to her the sales list and accounts from the opening day.
Quite a number of paintings had been sold.
Because this was her first time opening a studio and selling paintings, she wasn't sure whether these results were good or not. She emailed the sales list and accounts to Ye Ling and Wen Li, asking them to take a look.
That afternoon, Wen Li replied with three characters: "Not bad."
Ye Ling replied with five characters: "Email received."
After the hectic days of the opening had passed, and the vacant positions had been filled through a headhunting firm, Wen Zhengyu finally found a bit of free time.
Running a business meant that, as the boss, she had to be stationed at the studio every day, without even weekends off. So she simply brought her unfinished Phoenix Falls from the Ninth Heaven to the studio to work on there.
The place where she conducted business and managed her own affairs was naturally not ideal for painting.
The studio had a workspace designated for the hired painters.
It was partitioned by glass, offering a wide-open view and ample light, which was gentle on the eyes. The room was fitted with floor-to-ceiling curtains; if one didn't wish to be disturbed, drawing the curtains could instantly create a secluded, tranquil little space.
The studio had now signed a number of painters, but they either preferred to paint holed up at home or were out sketching and gathering inspiration, only delivering the completed works afterward. The painting room had been sitting empty. However, all the necessary materials for various types of painting—brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, pigments, painting tools—were fully stocked and ready for use at any time.
Now, she could finally put it to good use.
On weekends, the studio saw relatively more visitors. She would spend almost the entire day in the exhibition hall introducing paintings to clients. Weekdays were relatively quieter. Only the occasional tourist would wander into the studio to browse a couple of rounds. Sometimes, going half a day or even a full day without selling a single painting was perfectly normal. If someone did wish to buy a painting, the staff could always call on the internal line or come upstairs to summon her.
Most of the time, she could focus quietly in the painting room and work on her art.
In the blink of an eye, half a month passed. Her Phoenix Falls from the Ninth Heaven was already complete with the phoenix bird and the plummeting myriad flock of birds.
The sky, the mountain ranges, and the little sprites hidden among the rocks had yet to be painted.
Wen Zhengyu stared blankly at the phoenix bird in the painting. The plummeting figure in the painting overlapped with the figure in her mind's eye.
A painting she had drawn with her own hands. A world she had imagined in her mind. Yet there was so, so much she did not understand. She did not understand why Nine-Tails, fully aware that the other was dead, would still wait endlessly, waiting until the very day she herself died of old age. She did not understand why the phoenix bird, fully aware that it meant death, would still wage war against the heavens.
She was just like that little sprite, watching this world in a daze of ignorance and wonder.
A voice suddenly broke in from behind her. "Is this painting part of the same series as Phoenix Battles the Heavens?"
Wen Zhengyu was so startled by Ye Ling's sudden voice that she nearly jumped. Fortunately, her hand was steady. If her brush had dropped and splattered ink on the painting, she might have cried herself to death. Gongbi painting was not like ink-wash painting, where you could just dab a little extra ink and brush over the mistake to cover it up. She turned her head to look at Ye Ling. "Why has CEO Ye come by?"
"I was passing by and decided to come up for a look," Ye Ling said. She scrutinized the phoenix bird on the painting meticulously. "This is that phoenix from Phoenix Battles the Heavens, isn't it? Even though it's now a plucked phoenix, almost burnt into a roasted chicken, you can still tell by the look in its eyes, its beak, its talons, and its general heft relative to the frame."
Roasted chicken? General heft?
Wen Zhengyu shot Ye Ling a mildly exasperated look and really wanted to say, "CEO Ye, if you're hungry, I'll treat you to a meal. I'll treat you to roast chicken. My Aunt Sun makes a roast chicken that's absolutely divine." But then she reconsidered. She truly didn't want to treat Ye Ling to a meal, and even less did she want to invite Ye Ling over to her home for dinner.
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