Money seemed to flow like water from Hua Jie’s family.
Hua’s father signed up for driving lessons and considered buying a large truck to facilitate the transportation of furniture—it simply wouldn’t do to deliver thousands worth of furniture on a flatbed, that would be unseemly.
All the renovation materials were ready; Hua’s father himself swung the sledgehammer a few times, and Shen Mo took over the rest.
Young people are different: tall, strong, brimming with energy.
Hua’s father loved making friends and was known for his loyalty. Every weekend, brothers would come over to help out.
Even those without skills brought something, a bag of cement, a bucket of paint, and some hardware and lime—every little bit was appreciated.
Shen Mo helped with bricklaying. While Old Guo set aside the double-glazed windows, he clapped his hands and stared at Shen Mo for a moment, then asked:
“Isn’t your family supposed to have a daughter? Is this a relative’s child?”
“Not at all, he’s my godson,” Hua’s father pondered briefly, too lazy to explain further and simply blurted out.
“Where did you find such a fine son? I might go pick one up myself,” Old Guo walked up to Shen Mo, patted the young man’s shoulder, admiring his robust build and handsome features. Shen Mo’s diligence and honesty without a word of complaint were indeed endearing.
“…” Shen Mo stood up, his height of 1.85 meters always gave him a slightly superior air, coupled with his cool demeanor. When he looked down at Old Guo, there seemed to be a hint of cold ferocity.
“…” Meeting the young man’s gaze, Old Guo silently reconsidered his earlier thoughts.
Well, diligent he might be, but he didn’t look all that honest…
…
Hua’s father renovated the shop, and Shen Mo came to help whenever he could.
He didn’t find it tiring. Full of curiosity about the world, the young man found all these new tasks fascinating, like a child going on DIY activities with his parents over the weekend, tirelessly enjoying himself.
Half a month later, the other furniture stores that were rented out started to open one after another.
Furniture mass-produced by nearby manufacturers filled the shops, and a stroll through a few revealed that most sold the same items.
Even though some stores managed to get their hands on some unique pieces, these were still a limited proportion.
These store owners didn’t see anything wrong with this situation; it had always been done this way.
Like grocery and convenience stores, they sold similar assortments of items. As long as they could procure a few things different from other stores, the high degree of repetition wasn’t a problem.
Within half a month, Hua’s father had all the various permits in hand.
The small shop in the innermost part of the rented furniture mall has been renovated. It’s quite ordinary, with minimal design, and its compact size made the renovation, organization, and layout quick to complete.
The furniture factory shipped the low-end furniture 10 days after the order was placed, all delivered to Fuyun Building. Hua’s father moved them into the small shop, assembling each piece by piece. Within two days, everything was neatly arranged in the shop, ready for sale.
The shop was staffed by a 19-year-old girl who was newly hired, fresh out of high school. Previously, she had worked as a waitress in a restaurant. She was quite ordinary-looking but healthy and diligent, with clear and efficient speech, which led Hua’s father to keep her on.
Hua Jie had written a description for each item, which she had the young girl memorize thoroughly. To test her, Hua’s mother pretended to be a customer. The girl successfully introduced each item without faltering, which meant she passed the test.
Once the signboard was hung, the shop was officially open for business.
The wooden sign was personally designed by Hua Jie. After her father carved it and added the bas-relief, she painted over the bas-relief with oil paints, outlining the designs. It was exquisite and beautiful, exuding a high sense of artistic taste.
She even had her father install a wire to hang a small light by the sign, which was kept on during business hours to illuminate the words: “Xiaohua Furniture,” making it very conspicuous.
Below the Fuyun Building, a whip was hung, and a red vertical banner with ‘Xiaohua Furniture’ was placed in a flower basket to attract customers. Thus, their first shop was officially in business.
Everyone went out for a hotpot lunch to celebrate, and then they resumed their own work in the afternoon.
Although the ‘Dahua Furniture’ sign was hung and the small light illuminated it, the shop, with its double glass walls, was still covered with a large plastic sheet, mysteriously unfinished.
Taking advantage of the weekend, Hua Jie bought all the home decor she could find and custom-ordered the rest. She arranged for custom carpets, window sheers, and the genuine leather materials needed for the beds and chairs that her father would make. Everything was completed in less than half a month.
Everything that needed to be placed was placed, and everything that needed to be hung was hung.
The models of Hua’s father’s handmade furniture were produced by the factory, but the fine carving and engraving had to be done by him personally.
This part was the most time-consuming.
The carved furniture was assembled and arranged faster than if Hua’s father had done everything himself.
However, the five different functional rooms and one small counter hall designed by Hua Jie for display, totaling six rooms, still had several sets of furniture unfinished.
Thus, the unfinished parts were all concentrated on Hua’s father, who spent every day in the covered Dahua Furniture shop in the Fuyun Building, meticulously carving and eagerly busy.
Hua Jie and her mother were heartbroken seeing this, but they could not help him in any other way.
The owner of the neighboring Blue Sky Furniture store would see Hua’s father punctually entering Dahua Furniture every day. Throughout the day, there was hardly any noise of construction, just occasional tapping and knocking, and he would stay there all day, making people wonder what he was up to.
His secretive behavior was suspicious.
In less than a week, the salespeople from the nearby furniture stores got to know each other. When they sat together cracking sunflower seeds, what they talked about most was ‘Dahua Furniture’.
Nobody knew exactly what Hua’s father was doing inside. He would enter in the morning and leave in the evening with nothing in his hands.
The curious owner of Blue Sky Furniture repeatedly peeked and tried to sneak into Dahua Furniture to see what was going on, but she never succeeded.
Driven by curiosity, she wished the solid wall between the two stores could be smashed and replaced with a glass wall, just to catch a glimpse of what Hua’s father was doing inside.
After many days of competitors watching and wondering, on the morning of December 24th, the plastic covering the exterior of Dahua Furniture was finally removed.
It was opening.
…
…
In the city of Jinsong in the year 2000, Western culture had not yet fully integrated.
The city did not celebrate Christmas; rather, the 24th just happened to fall on a Sunday, a day worth celebrating as a day of rest.
Hua Jie dressed up nicely that morning. Though she didn’t wear her own redesigned JK uniform, she looked very pretty in a wool skirt paired with a light yellow sweater, demure yet stylish.
When Shen Mo opened the door for Hua Jie in the morning, he noticed her refreshingly new outfit down to the boots on her feet, and proudly thought to himself: Clothes always need changing, but boots are the everyday versatile staple.
After several months of painting watercolors and gouaches, switching between still lifes, portraits, and landscapes, today Shen Jiaru suddenly changed the subject—
Scene sketching.
Over these days of drawing, Shen Jiaru realized that everyone’s skills were generally okay, but when expanding to an entire scene, problems often arose in maintaining accurate sketch relations.
Thus, Shen Jiaru decided to focus on teaching scene sketching for a few days to enhance students’ grasp of the overall environmental relations in large scenes.
During the previous trip to the Snowy Mountain Villa for a sketching session, the paintings by Fang Shaojun and his group, which involved scenes with multiple depth relationships, seemed to intimidate them. They took much longer to paint these expansive scenes compared to smaller ones.
Now, tasked with sketching environments rather than still life watercolors, Fang Shaojun and Lu Yunfei’s expressions turned a bit more serious.
The larger the scene, the more complex the various painting relationships involved.
Indeed, the difficulty was somewhat high, especially since today, Shen Jiaru asked everyone to draw not a simple, open scene, but a large studio cluttered with countless items, still lifes, bookshelves, books, easels, papers, and more.
“Could it get any more complicated?” Qian Chong asked, somewhat daunted.
“Today we’re drawing the studio, with light only coming from the windows facing south. Next time, I’ll open the door as well, and you’ll draw a sketch of the scene with two different light sources: one from the natural light outside the window and the other from the indoor light coming through the open door,” Shen Jiaru explained lightly.
“…” Qian Chong held his forehead.
It could indeed get tougher.
So, everyone sat in a row against the wall, beginning to sketch the studio environment.
Now there was no distinction between watercolor and gouache; everyone held up a drawing board, a sheet of sketch paper, and a sketching pencil.
The young men and women sat side by side, occasionally unable to resist glancing at each other’s work, inevitably leading to comparisons and critiques of others’ compositions and linework, proportions, and structure.
Qian Chong sat to the left of Hua Jie, frowning every time he glanced at her work.
No wonder the teacher said she had a solid foundation; it was evident in her sketches.
But she wasn’t flawless. After a while, Qian Chong turned to Hua Jie and whispered:
“It’s not just in color rendering that you need uniqueness and style. Your sketch is a finished artwork too; you can’t just focus on the act of drawing. You need to immerse yourself and bring out your style as well.”
“The expression of strokes, lines, and light-dark relationships should blend with your watercolors, forming your framework.”
“How come you find your style when you paint with watercolors, but become rigid when sketching?”
Hua Jie paused, pen in hand, staring at her drawing, feeling somewhat dazed.
Indeed, Qian Chong made a lot of sense.
Such a simple truth, yet she had been blind to it while being directly involved.
How could she separate sketching from watercolor so completely? When sketching, she would instinctively switch off her brain, as she used to, and simply apply techniques she recalled from various masters without much thought.
If Artist A’s structural lines were good, she’d use their approach; if Artist B had an appealing way of outlining, she’d adopt B’s style.
It was handy and time-saving, and the drawing naturally just emerged.
She took a deep breath and rallied her spirits.
Before continuing to draw, she turned to Qian Chong with a soft smile and said:
“Thank you, Qian Chuanzi~”
Qian Chong expected Hua Jie to respond as she usually did when interacting with him, with sharp retorts like ‘your drawing isn’t that great either.’
Even if they didn’t argue, he thought she might act dismissive like Fang Shaojun, with arrogance written all over her face.
But he didn’t expect Hua Jie to thank him so sweetly, acting as if he really was brilliant and had just enlightened her.
With pursed lips, he was about to force a nonchalant smile when he suddenly sensed something amiss—
“What the heck is ‘Qian Chuanzi’? Who are you calling?” Qian Chong frowned.
“Ah!” Hua Jie was startled.
What?