The Art of Teasing - Chapter 103
Chapter 103
Ye Ling called Wen Zhengyu. "Zhengyu, what's wrong?"
Silence on the other end of the line.
Ye Ling called out again: "Zhengyu? What happened?"
Wen Zhengyu sat in the car, holding the phone, listening to Ye Ling's voice, thinking about what her grandmother had said. Her eyes felt dry and stung. Her heart ached terribly, her thoughts drifting aimlessly without anchor, her throat constricted as if blocked by something, making it hard to breathe. After a long while, she forced out two words with difficulty: "It's nothing." She wanted to hang up, but hesitated and asked, "Ye Ling, why did you let Grandmother know I wanted to become a nun?"
Ye Ling froze for a moment, opened her mouth, but found no way to explain. She hadn't told Old Madam Zhang, but she had told Lian Xin, and Lian Xi had mentioned it to the old lady—which meant she had indirectly revealed it.
Wen Zhengyu heard the silence on the other end and hung up the phone.
Her thoughts were tangled; she couldn't calm her mind.
She cared about Ye Ling, and it was precisely because she cared that she felt this pain.
She thought further—perhaps she had chosen the wrong friend. Or perhaps, regarding the matter of her becoming a nun, Ye Ling, her grandmother, and everyone else stood on the same side. It was she who had made her grandmother grieve.
Wen Zhengyu forced herself to rally her spirits and went to Lao Zhou's place to appraise the painting. Once she had examined it, she took her leave.
After getting into the car, she thought for a moment and told Wen Jing to drive to the Lian family residence.
The old lady was watering flowers in the courtyard. Seeing her, she asked with a darkened expression, "What are you doing here?"
Wen Zhengyu looked at her grandmother, her throat choked with emotion, unable to speak. She liked Ye Ling, but she was also afraid—deeply terrified. Ever since her family's downfall, her life seemed no longer within her control, not even within the scope of her own plans. The people and events around her were always pulling her along, pushing her forward. Ye Ling wanted her to fall in love with her, to be with her. Grandmother wanted her to transform from a small painter into a shrewd businesswoman. Grandfather wanted her to stand firm and never be bullied again. What she wanted was to pick up her brush again and paint with a calm heart—not to scramble daily for money. She feared becoming like the nightmare, where money turned into corpses, then into vengeful ghosts, then into fire that burned her, burned her paintings, burned everything.
What she had studied since childhood was painting, not business. She was a painter, not a merchant.
Now she busied herself daily earning money, learning how to earn money, busy with social obligations, busy sorting out her feelings for Ye Ling, tangled in whether she should be with Ye Ling. That fire was burning, about to burn her to ash, to burn everything to ash.
But she couldn't say any of this.
She wanted to paint, but painting couldn't put food on the table.
She didn't want to lose the peace in her heart, yet the people and events around her, everyone's hopes and demands upon her, made it nearly impossible to find time to be still. She didn't want her family's collapse and the pressures of survival to make her completely lose her true self. She didn't want that world of countless gods and buddhas to turn into nothing but ledgers and reports.
The old lady saw Wen Zhengyu standing at the doorway like a block of wood, not even saying a word, and her anger flared uncontrollably. The scolding energy she usually reserved for her grandsons surged up. She railed at her with the frustration of one who wishes iron would turn to steel: "Didn't you want to become a nun? Then go and do it! Go! No one is stopping you. If you find life in the mountains so comfortable, then stay there and don't come back. The Lian family has many children—we can spare one. Go, get out! Someone, drive her out! Someone! Throw her out!"
The bodyguards, hearing the old lady's shouts, came out and looked at each other in dismay.
The old lady cursed: "What are you all standing around for? Throw her out!"
The bodyguards, seeing the old lady was truly furious, had no choice but to step forward and say quietly, "Miss, perhaps you should wait until the old lady's anger subsides before returning?"
Wen Zhengyu looked at her grandmother, seething with rage, waving her hands continuously to shoo her away. She had never imagined there would come a day when her own grandmother would drive her out the door. Stepping out of the Lian family residence, she truly felt like a stray dog.
Her family's house had been sold. Before, she had lived at her second aunt's. The house she lived in now had been gifted to her jointly by Lian Xin and Ye Ling. Her car had been in a fatal crash, killing someone and destroying the engine—the insurance had written it off. The car she now rode in still belonged to her grandmother.
Having left the Lian residence, she watched as Wen Jing drove the car over, but she didn't want to get in.
She had no face left to ride in the old lady's car. She said to Wen Jing, "Walk with me for a while. Have Ma Jun take the car to be washed and return it to my grandmother."
Ma Jun said, "Miss, the car was just washed this morning."
Wen Jing turned her head and glared at Ma Jun.
Wen Zhengyu said, "Then return it directly. Wen Jing, get out."
Wen Jing had no choice but to get out of the car. She still urged, "Miss, the old lady is just in a fit of anger right now."
Wen Zhengyu nodded, indicating she knew.
Wen Jing could only pick up Wen Zhengyu's bag and follow behind her.
Ma Jun, jolted alert by Wen Jing's glare, suddenly understood. Wouldn't going in to return the car right now be adding fuel to the old lady's fire, deliberately provoking her further? If this were any of the young masters, they would undoubtedly be scolded half to death first, then beaten half to death. But if the young miss gave an order and he dared disobey, he'd be fired on the spot. He could only quietly drive the car to the garage, then call Old Master Lian to report what had happened.
Wen Zhengyu's mind was in turmoil. With Ye Ling at her house, she didn't want to go home either. Besides, that house—it was still one Ye Ling had returned to her. She walked to the roadside and hailed a taxi, heading back to the art studio.
When one's thoughts are tangled, one tends to let the mind wander into dark places. She didn't want to think wild thoughts, so she went to the painting room, unrolled her paper, laid out her brushes and ink, and lifted her brush to paint.
In her mind, Ye Ling's figure and her grandmother's scolding words echoed endlessly. She thought again of the nightmare she'd once had.
A long corridor, lavish décor, walls built from corpses. Through open doors, money floated down from the ceiling, blood covering the floor transformed into flames burning, and from the doors on both sides came unbearably obscene scenes...
She stood in this burning corridor, the fire spreading toward her body.
After she finished the painting, her heart finally settled.
If it weren't for lack of money, she wouldn't be in business. But even while managing business, she didn't want to abandon her brush. She had started learning to paint before she even understood the world. She had painted for more than twenty years.
She sensed someone behind her. Turning to look, she saw Ye Ling standing in the doorway watching her. She didn't know how long Ye Ling had been standing there.
She looked at Ye Ling, and Ye Ling looked at her. That tangled mess in her heart simply quieted down, as if the fact that Ye Ling had let her grandmother know about her wish to become a nun wasn't so unforgivable after all. The old lady's anger had passed; she had scolded, and the scolding was over. And she hadn't become a nun yet.
Ye Ling saw that Wen Zhengyu's expression and gaze were relatively calm and secretly sighed in relief. She pointed out the window and said, "It's morning."
Wen Zhengyu responded with an "Mm," signed her name, and began washing her brushes and paint palette.
Ye Ling waited for Wen Zhengyu to finish putting away her painting tools, then led her out for breakfast.
Once the two were seated in the car, Ye Ling asked Wen Zhengyu, "Are you okay?"
Wen Zhengyu replied, "I'm okay." She paused, then said, "That matter—about me wanting to become a nun—I don't blame you."
Ye Ling looked at Wen Zhengyu with some surprise.
Wen Zhengyu said, "Grandmother... isn't just anyone. All of you... wouldn't want me to become a nun. My wanting to become a nun wasn't because I devoutly believe in Daoism; I just wanted to find a quiet place to paint. Ye Ling, this past year, the changes have been so enormous—enormous enough to frighten anyone." She paused, then continued, "Maybe some people think that liking someone is just a matter of having a romance, and if it doesn't work out, you just break up. But in that coming together and falling apart..."
Ye Ling tightened her grip on Wen Zhengyu's hand. She understood. Just like with Cen Xun—by the end, they had come within a hair's breadth of stabbing each other. Wen Zhengyu was not like Cen Xun. Cen Xun would act out whatever she felt, but Wen Zhengyu, most of the time, could only silently endure it all alone. When she was unhappy, she feared worrying her elders and dared not tell them. She had no friends, not even someone to confide in. When something troubled her, she could only console herself. What she couldn't resolve, she could only suffer through alone.
Ye Ling could touch the scar left behind and calmly say she hadn't come out the loser. But Wen Zhengyu didn't even know how to fight back. Yesterday, she had clearly been furious beyond endurance, yet the most she had done was tell her to move from the room to the guest courtyard, then go off alone to the studio and paint all night. She said to Wen Zhengyu, "Don't be afraid. I'm here."
Wen Zhengyu was silent for a few seconds, then asked, "Did you move to the guest courtyard?"
Ye Ling said, "No."
Wen Zhengyu felt a little better. "If you haven't moved, then don't."
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