The Art of Teasing - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

It was her first time traveling out of town for business. Old Master Wen, feeling uneasy, assigned Zhan Cheng to accompany her, and had Li Bin, who normally drove for ride-hailing services, act as her chauffeur for a few days.

Her flight was the early morning one at six-fifty, so she got up at four in the morning.

Li Bin arrived at four-thirty to drive her and Zhan Cheng to the airport.

By the time they reached the airport, Ye Ling's entourage had already arrived and was heading toward the VIP business lounge. Ye Ling had brought a secretary, a driver, two assistants, a nanny, and four bodyguards—a rather eye-catching display of pageantry.

Wen Zhengyu pretended not to notice Ye Ling, who was surrounded by the crowd of people, and followed Zhan Cheng directly to the check-in counter to process their boarding procedures.

The art studio had just gotten off the ground and wasn't yet profitable; it required substantial capital to operate. For now, she was saving wherever she could, so she had booked economy class tickets. As for Ye Ling, the most she'd cover was the cost of a first-class ticket. The expenses for that whole retinue of bodyguards and nannies fell outside the scope of the studio's responsibilities.

She didn't know if the money Ye Ling earned by accompanying her on this business trip would even be enough to cover Ye Ling's own entourage's costs.

Wen Zhengyu had risen early and hadn't gotten enough sleep. She'd originally thought she could catch up on rest once she boarded the plane. The economy class seats were cramped, with very little room to adjust. It was a three-seat row, and her seat was originally in the middle. Zhan Cheng was on the aisle, and by the window was a young woman with a child. The child was about one or two years old, extremely mischievous, squirming restlessly all over his mother and refusing to settle down, and even reached out to yank her hair.

Zhan Cheng switched seats with her. The woman protested, saying, "How can you just switch seats casually on a plane? I'm not sitting next to a man. Switch back."

Although Wen Zhengyu didn't have much opinion on small children as a species, she had very little goodwill toward a child who pulled her hair, tugged her ears, and grabbed at her neck pillow. With Zhan Cheng sitting in the middle acting as a buffer, she couldn't be bothered to engage with the woman.

The child still tried to lunge toward her, relentlessly pursuing her. Stopped by Zhan Cheng, unable to grab her neck pillow or catch her hair, the child began to cry.

The woman then accused Zhan Cheng: "How can a grown man bully a child?"

Zhan Cheng called a flight attendant to mediate. A passenger in the back row, unable to stand watching any longer, switched seats with her.

The child was never quite settled, sniffling and squirming everywhere. Coupled with the small, cramped seat that was exceptionally uncomfortable, she endured the two-and-a-half-hour flight with weary, drowsy eyes.

When the plane landed, she turned on her phone and immediately received a text message from Ye Ling, telling her to meet at the arrivals gate.

She and Zhan Cheng were further delayed retrieving their checked luggage.

When she emerged from the exit, she saw Ye Ling standing right there at the arrivals area, waiting for her. Wen Zhengyu was quite taken aback. She scanned the surroundings and spotted Ye Ling's several bodyguards dispersed inconspicuously in the vicinity.

Ye Ling slanted a glance at Wen Zhengyu with a half-smile, teasing, "CEO Wen, so considerate for the studio, yet so hard on yourself?"

Wen Zhengyu glanced at Ye Ling, shrugged her shoulders, and said nothing.

Ye Ling smiled, gestured toward the exit with an inviting sweep of her hand, and walked with Wen Zhengyu toward the outside of the arrivals hall.

Outside the arrivals hall was a dedicated lane for buses and taxis. They walked for a stretch before reaching the parking area.

Ye Ling's driver opened the door for the two of them. As Wen Zhengyu got into the car, she swept her eyes over the car model and license plate. Ye Ling's car was quite understated, but the license plate was a bit ostentatious: the letter Y followed by four identical digits. At least it wasn't four 8s—that would have been truly nouveau riche gaudy.

Wen Zhengyu wasn't very familiar with Ye Ling's background. However, although Ye Ling was usually restrained and composed, she would occasionally, inadvertently, exude a faint hint of the nouveau riche, and sometimes, a subtle, elusive whiff of a political family background.

She had gotten up too early that morning and hadn't been able to rest properly on the plane. Once in the car, she had no desire to talk to Ye Ling and simply closed her eyes to rest.

The moment she shut her eyes, she fell asleep. In a hazy, drowsy state, she sensed Ye Ling gently draping a blanket over her. She murmured a soft, "Thank you," and then drifted back to sleep.

By the time the car reached the hotel, it was already past eleven. Her appointment with that elderly gentleman was for three-thirty in the afternoon. The hotel she'd booked wasn't far away; after lunch, she could still rest for a while.

Wen Zhengyu set her phone alarm and seized the time to catch up on another nap, finally feeling refreshed and energized.

Because Ye Ling had held an art exhibition featuring her paintings, hired people to feign both buying and selling to hype them up, and even bid against Wen Li for the Kunlun Myriad Demons Scroll, driving its price to an astronomical sum of over six million yuan, Wen Zhengyu had gained quite a bit of notoriety within the industry. It was just that this hyped-up reputation wasn't exactly the most savory.

The straightforward old gentleman she met that afternoon very kindly offered her a few words of advice: Young people, the road is still long. You must walk it steadily and solidly. Do not waste your talent.

She then spent the greater part of the afternoon discussing paintings with the old gentleman. He inquired about her insights into painting, her exploration of technique, and asked about the studio's operations. Their conversation stretched from three-thirty in the afternoon until past five. The old lady prepared dinner, and the old gentleman, with a broad wave of his hand, insisted that she and Ye Ling stay to eat. After dinner, she played a game of Go with the old gentleman.

The old gentleman knew the purpose of her visit. Since he didn't bring up the matter of selling a painting to her, she felt too embarrassed to thicken her skin and plead again. After the game of Go, seeing that it was getting quite late, she bid farewell to the old gentleman and his wife.

The old gentleman told Wen Zhengyu to wait a moment. He sent his wife to fetch his painting, Mount Tai Pines and Cypresses, for Wen Zhengyu to appraise and appreciate.

Ye Ling's mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Wen Zhengyu knew the old gentleman was testing her. Whether she could buy a painting from him depended entirely on whether her level of connoisseurship could satisfy him.

Fortunately, like her grandfather, the old gentleman painted ink-and-wash landscape paintings. Immersed in this environment since childhood, she had absorbed it all, and although her own painting skills were still lacking, her appreciation and evaluation abilities were somewhat developed. But knowing how to appraise wasn't enough; one also had to know how to articulate it. Some things you could discern and state directly; others you couldn't; some had to be expressed tactfully—and this had to be gauged according to the person. Otherwise, if you displeased the other party, you'd only find yourself shown the door. This old gentleman belonged to the straightforward faction, so she didn't take the roundabout path and said whatever was on her mind. The old gentleman's skill as a painter was leagues beyond hers; she dared not critique it. She could only articulate what she was able to perceive: the brushwork, the conceptual intent, the artistic conception, and then speak about the scenery in the painting, offering some imaginative musings, before asking the old gentleman for his pointers and guidance.

Where she spoke correctly, the old gentleman would nod in approval. Where her views diverged from his, the old gentleman would say she was wrong. If she were dealing with someone fussy and affected, she was, after all, just a buyer and reseller of paintings, not a collector herself—whatever you say is right, then. But seeing that this old gentleman wasn't a petty person, she wanted to argue her point a little. Even if their perspectives differed, that couldn't simply mean she was wrong, could it?

Though the old gentleman wasn't petty, his temper wasn't the best, and as they debated, he grew a bit agitated.

Ye Ling quietly tugged at her sleeve.

Wen Zhengyu glanced at Ye Ling and thought to herself, Principles are principles. Getting angry won't change them. Still, she couldn't truly anger him. She quickly offered the old gentleman tea, urging him to calm his temper.

The old gentleman was irritated, and looking at her only vexed him further, so he said, "It's getting late." He pointed at the painting and said, "Take the painting and be off."

Wen Zhengyu was momentarily stunned, then said, "We haven't discussed the price yet."

The old gentleman quoted a unit price and handed her a ruler, telling her to measure it herself.

Wen Zhengyu immediately realized this price was far lower than the old gentleman's usual rate. She silently calculated it; the old gentleman had actually given her a twenty percent discount. She thanked the old gentleman, but then still persisted in her own viewpoint. A twenty percent discount wouldn't change her convictions.

She measured the dimensions, asked the old gentleman for his account number, opened her laptop, and transferred the money into his account.

By the time she emerged from the old gentleman's house with the painting, it was already eleven o'clock at night.

Ye Ling lifted her head, looked at the dusky, overcast night sky, and asked Wen Zhengyu, somewhat on the verge of a breakdown, "Don't tell me all your appointments to procure paintings are negotiated like this?"

Wen Zhengyu knew what Ye Ling was trying to imply. She said, "There are all kinds of painters. With some painters, to buy a painting, you just talk money. With others, it depends on the person. If someone they don't like goes, they won't sell no matter how much money you offer. Then there are painters who sell depending on the situation—they sell when they're short on cash, and don't sell when they're not."

Ye Ling said, "I still prefer..." She noticed Wen Zhengyu's lips curving slightly upward, a glint even shimmering in her eyes, and recalled how Wen Zhengyu had chatted so congenially with the old gentleman that they'd nearly ended up quarreling. She swallowed the words "the ones who just talk money."

The two of them reached the car parked in a roadside parking spot and found Zhan Cheng and Ye Ling's driver, each holding a bowl of instant noodles, squatting outside the car and slurping them down noisily.

During dinner, Wen Zhengyu had sent Zhan Cheng a text message, saying they might be able to leave after dinner. She hadn't expected to end up discussing with the old gentleman until this hour. Feeling very apologetic, she hurriedly said, "Uncle Zhan, take your time eating. We'll get in the car first and wait for you."

She and Ye Ling got into the car. Ye Ling asked her, "Tired?"

Wen Zhengyu had been quite sleepy that morning, but after a nap at noon, she was no longer tired. Right now, she was in good spirits. She chuckled softly and shook her head, finding this blunt, straightforward old gentleman rather amusing. She then sent a text message to her grandfather, telling him that her appointment to procure the painting today had gone very smoothly, that the old gentleman was a wonderful person, that she had played a game of Go with him, and that they had chatted for a long time about painting. The old gentleman also painted ink-and-wash landscapes.

After reporting the day's itinerary to Old Master Wen, she urged him to go to sleep.

Old Master Wen asked her, "Ye Ling accompanied you the entire day?"

Wen Zhengyu replied with a brief "Mm," and turned her head to look at Ye Ling, who seemed a bit worn out. Ye Ling was leaning wearily against the car door, propping her chin on one hand and looking at her, a bit listless and wilted.

She asked Ye Ling, "CEO Ye, you alright?"

Ye Ling gave a soft hum and said, "I'm managing."

Zhan Cheng and the driver finished their instant noodles, brushed off the lingering smell clinging to their clothes, and then got into the car. Ye Ling's driver took the wheel, with Zhan Cheng sitting in the front passenger seat.

Ye Ling closed her eyes to rest as soon as the car started moving.

Wen Zhengyu watched the night scenery outside the car window.

Truth be told, there wasn't much night scenery. The air quality in this city wasn't very good; everything was gray and hazy, as if the entire city were shrouded in dust.

After a while, she felt a weight on her shoulder. Turning her head, she found that Ye Ling had leaned to the side, her head resting on Wen Zhengyu's shoulder.

Wen Zhengyu reached out a finger, intending to push Ye Ling's head away, unwilling to let her lean. But thinking that Ye Ling had accompanied her all day and was utterly exhausted, she withdrew her hand. She had never been leaned on like this since childhood; it felt extremely awkward. Wen Zhengyu wanted to quietly edge away a little, to put some distance between herself and Ye Ling, but the moment she moved, Ye Ling wrapped her arms around her arm, then shifted into a more comfortable position, nestling her head into the crook of Wen Zhengyu's neck.

Wen Zhengyu: "..."

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