It was an ordinary morning, yet an extraordinary one.
Today was Christmas Day. Although Jinsong City had not yet embraced various Western holidays, the youth had already caught a whiff of the essence of Western Valentine’s Day and Christmas.
At the school, newly graduated English teachers took the initiative at the school entrance by decorating a snowman and turning two cedar trees into Christmas trees, adorned with a variety of quirky trinkets.
During the morning English reading session, classes began singing Christmas carols.
“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way~” echoed repeatedly between the school buildings, as several English teachers introduced Western culture into the school in a simple and enjoyable way.
That day, Hua Jie arrived at school exceptionally early, even leaving without waiting for Bian Hong, and quickly set off on her own.
She didn’t head straight for school but detoured to the city center. At the top floor of the Fuyun Building, Dahua and Xiaohua Furniture stores had already opened. Sales clerks Xiao Li and Sister Xiu Juan were busy cleaning inside and outside the shops, and signs to be placed at the entrance were also set up.
After greeting Sister Xiao Li, Hua Jie headed straight for Xiaohua Furniture.
Seeing her, Xiu Juan couldn’t help raising an eyebrow curiously:
“Why are you here, Hua Jie?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Good morning, Sister Xiu Juan. I am supposed to be in class, but I need to move that thing!” Hua Jie winked at Xiu Juan.
“Oh, it’s in the back. I’ve covered it with a cloth and kept it well hidden for you,” Xiu Juan replied.
Hua Jie paid with one hand and took the goods with the other, carrying a piece of small furniture as she left.
Watching the young girl’s retreating figure, Xiu Juan thought to herself: She’s like Wonder Woman!
…
Amid the Christmas songs played by the English teachers who had taken over the broadcasting station, students gradually arrived at school.
As each student from Class 1-7 entered the classroom, their scattered gazes instantly focused on the seat of honor.
Their eyes widened as they walked to their own seats while turning back to look—it was almost a standard reaction for all the students.
When Yao Nan burst into the classroom, he even exclaimed in surprise.
Hua Jie quickly gestured to him not to shout.
Yao Nan then covered his mouth and came in, staring at Brother Mo’s seat and laughing:
“Surprise?”
“Yes, have you seen Shen Mo?” Hua Jie asked.
“He went to the washroom to wash his hands; he’ll be here soon.” After relaying the information, Yao Nan hurried back to his seat and then stretched his neck to stare at the door, eagerly anticipating Shen Mo’s arrival just like Hua Jie.
What would Shen Mo’s reaction be?
—This was the most captivating topic for the listless students in the class who were lazily flipping through books.
With his school bag slung over his shoulder, Shen Mo shook off the water on his hands as he walked towards Class 1-7.
Suddenly, a little girl darted from behind him, quickly stuffing something into his pocket before running off.
He reached into his pocket and discovered it was an envelope.
His eyebrows raised, he turned and called out:
“Stop.”
The little girl, her face flushed red and legs ready to sprint, was so frightened that she shivered and stood frozen in place.
The young man strode up to her. The little girl didn’t dare lift her head, her face turning from red to pale.
Shen Mo glanced at the envelope in his hand—a pink one adorned with a hand-drawn red heart.
He couldn’t help but think of Hua Jie’s pink down jacket and pink backpack; he was frankly tired of pink.
He handed the envelope back to the little girl, his voice low and stern:
“Focus on your studies.”
The little girl, clutching the envelope, didn’t dare lift her head, her ears turning a deep shade of purple, almost yelling out “Yes, teacher!” in fright.
Fortunately, due to her timidity, she made no sound.
The young man didn’t linger for even a second longer, turning and walking away, his hand still slightly wet, casually wiping it on his clothes before coolly slipping it into his pocket.
A few moments later, the little girl finally recovered her senses. She hurriedly stuffed the envelope back into her pocket, touched a hint of moisture, and her face suddenly flushed hot again.
Her eyes fixed on Shen Mo’s retreating figure, her heart screamed: Ahhh! Her admired crush, how could he be so cold and abstinent?!
Too charming!!!
Oh my god, he even told her to ‘focus on your studies’, what kind of ultimate male god is this, wuu wuu.
The ultimate male god was unaware that the little girl was still cherishing his wonderful presence behind him. He walked briskly into the classroom, nodded casually when the boys greeted him, and glanced around to see if Hua Jie had arrived. Seeing the little girl obediently seated there, he felt at ease.
It was a plain morning, except that the Christmas carols echoing through the campus were somewhat noisy.
He walked forward with his usual cold and abstinent stride, then suddenly noticed Hua Jie looking at him strangely. Her careful yet excited demeanor resembled that of a mischievous child, fearful yet hopeful that their parents would discover their antics.
He furrowed his brow, about to ask what her look meant, when his gaze inadvertently fell upon the chair behind her, partially obscured by her.
It was supposed to be an ordinary wooden chair, in natural wood color, old and seemingly not sturdy enough to support his robust height of 185 cm.
But now, instead of the ordinary chair, there sat a splendid… throne???
Hua Jie watched Shen Mo with an expression akin to an old man absorbed in his phone on the subway, feeling uneasy and jittery inside.
He walked to the table, and as the girl obediently stood up to give up her seat, she gazed at him eagerly, waiting for him to sit on the elaborate throne she had custom-made for him.
“…” This…
The chair was large, with a genuine leather backrest and seat cushion that looked very comfortable.
The crucial feature was the armrests, adorned with simple wood carvings.
The backrest boasted the ornate carvings typical of a throne. Her father was so busy, yet she had managed to have him help carve a chair for him…
Licking his somewhat dry lips, he was at a loss for words for quite some time.
Stepping forward to his place, he dropped his backpack onto the table and plunked down onto the seat.
It was soft and comfortable, a real treat for his back and bottom.
But emotionally, he felt a bit…
So embarrassed…
“Are you an idiot?” he asked her sidelong, his face slightly red.
By now, Shen Mo was aware of the entire class’s gaze fixed on him. In a plain classroom, only his spot boasted a throne.
Those who knew understood it was her gift to him; those who didn’t might think he was a vain, pretentious, and melodramatic teenager.
“…I thought about this gift very carefully. These carvings were done by me helping my dad, handcrafted, a genuine gift from the heart,” she said, her voice tinged with grievance.
Such a nice chair, she herself couldn’t bear to sit in it.
And what did he have to be embarrassed about? She thought his demeanor completely matched the chair.
“…” Shen Mo’s ears felt a bit hot, “Alright, let’s study.”
With that, he packed up his backpack, pulled out a book to place on the table, and leaned on his right arm, blocking most of the gazes.
The students noticed that Shen Mo neither made a big fuss nor showed any particular liking or disliking for the gift, which left their prank-like expectations unfulfilled. They reluctantly withdrew their gazes and busied themselves with their own tasks.
Shen Mo rested his head on his hand while facing his book, but in reality, not a single word from “The Principles of Marxist Economics” on the opened page registered with him.
He sat there blushing silently, feeling the soft bounce of the genuine leather seat cushion.
Hmm, it was indeed much more comfortable than a wooden chair. There was something to be said for why kings sat on thrones.
Now, he too had a comfortable chair to sit on at school.
Although embarrassing… but… perhaps this was what they meant by “pleasure intertwined with pain.”
When she said she wanted to give him a gift, he never imagined it would be something like this.
What was she thinking? To treat him like a king?
Or did she want to show that in her eyes, he was as noble and grand as a king?
Scratching his hairline with the hand propping his head, his lips unconsciously curled into a smile.
When it came to giving gifts, it had to be Little Potato.
She really knew how to charm someone, hmm.
…
After giving the gift, Hua Jie still felt somewhat uneasy, until she saw Shen Mo fully sinking into the throne, leisurely swinging his long legs while reading, clearly in a joyful and thoroughly enjoyable mood.
She pursed her lips, tilting her head to sneak a peek at his expression.
Though his face was obscured, his eyebrows relaxed and lips upturned.
She licked her lips, withdrawing her gaze.
Clicking her mechanical pencil, she flipped over the page of her notebook that was filled with problems.
Elbow propped on the table, her left hand supporting her cheek, she turned her face slightly away from him.
The pencil scribbled a series of numbers and formulas on the paper, and a smile gradually appeared on the girl’s cheeks.
Contented.
…
…
The Qingmei Biennale Art Competition finished its third screening, selecting 30 paintings.
In the fourth screening, 10 paintings will be chosen from these 30. Wang Jian, who invited the judges, selected them from earlier rounds.
Independent artist Bai Qingquan, with long hair tied up in a bun, stood silently on the far left, contemplatively viewing the 30 paintings before her.
Qu Yuan, the vice-chairman of the National Association of Artists, stood beside her, arms crossed, surveying all the paintings. His eyes quickly found the one he liked very much, “Youth Waiting for the Bus to Return Home.”
Recalling how Yi Nansheng had previously snatched this painting from his hands, the grudge-holding Teacher Qiu preempted Yi Nansheng’s comment by saying:
“I nominate ‘Youth Waiting for the Bus to Return Home.’ Although the painting style is somewhat unstable, considering the age of the contestant, it is precisely during the process of the style’s maturation. It’s normal for the style to be a bit mixed and the painting a bit oily.
“However, the treatment of light and shadow, the brushwork, and the rhythmic sense of the entire painting are unmatched by any other. This one must make it into the top ten.”
Yi Nansheng turned to look at Qiu Yuan, smiled meaningfully, and then agreed:
“Yes, I also endorse this piece.”
Wang Jian then asked for opinions from the other judges. Although the experts had many comments about this painting, the consensus was that it indeed deserved a spot in the top ten.
Thus, the first of the top ten works was decided, thanks in part to Qiu Yuan’s vindictive nature.
The experts quickly selected another oil painting and a traditional Chinese painting.
“The competition still sees the most oil and watercolor paintings, representing one system of painting techniques,” Yi Nansheng commented, patting an oil painter beside him and sighing, “The oil painting market is doing well, and the competition is getting fiercer.”
“Isn’t that because Director Yi’s oil painting department has nurtured many good talents? Didn’t your traditional Chinese painting department at Lu University expand enrollment significantly last year?”
“Ha, yes. Both the domestic and international markets are heavily influenced by Western culture. Oil paintings are more popular, whether in the auction market or the commercial advertising industry. Nowadays, many schools’ design majors require a course in oil painting; it feels like a major trend,” Yi Nansheng said with a light smile, his sense of superiority in oil painting emerging subtly.
“It’s not necessarily the case. With our country’s economy thriving, perhaps our ability to export culture will strengthen, and the mysterious traditional Chinese paintings might captivate the global aesthetic.”
“Hahaha.” Yi Nansheng laughed, then added:
“In this competition, there are surprisingly two watercolor paintings among the top thirty.”
Saying this, he pointed to the paintings placed at the very left and at the bottom right corner of the thirty.
“…Yes, among our ten judges, not one specializes in watercolor.”
“I did study watercolor when I first started painting, but soon stopped and switched to gouache. That transition was really difficult; for many years, my paintings were either ‘powdery’ or ‘blurred’.” Yi Nansheng shook his head, “The real successful transition from watercolor to oil painting was probably only achieved by the genius painter, Teacher Shen Jiaru, right?”
“Yes, he switched to oil painting after university.”
As the two continued chatting, their conversation naturally drifted.
A nearby master of traditional Chinese landscape painting who overheard their conversation interjected: “That ‘Countless Selves in the Ice Crystals’ certainly deserves to be in the top ten.”
“Mm, I feel the same way. Not just because it’s a minority watercolor painting. It’s indeed well done, skillful, with precise details. Especially, it fully displays the advantages of light and shadow in watercolor painting,” another teacher interjected, mentioning that this painting was selected by him when it entered the top 30.
“I think the strongest aspect is the colors. I’ve hardly seen anyone using colors so boldly in watercolor paintings before.”
“The artist isn’t confined by the typical attributes of transparency and elegance in watercolor painting, very bold. You see, there’s even color collision here. Young people nowadays are quite innovative.”
“All this creative effort, the courage to use colors freely, might just give a boost to the watercolor painting market.”
Qiu Yuan stepped closer to the painting “Countless Selves in the Ice Crystals,” pointing at certain spots on the canvas.
“Qiu teacher is too optimistic; the watercolor painting market is stagnant,” Yi Nansheng shook his head, recalling his switch to oil painting years ago. “But this ‘Countless Selves in the Ice Crystals’ is indeed excellent. The style, brushstrokes, are highly stylized, visually impactful, and quite mature.”
“And the treatment of the distant view in the picture, it has a dreamy and distant feeling.”
“Plus, the various distortions within these ice crystals, conveying such exuberant and effusive emotions, are really fantastic.”
“It makes me want to paint some watercolors just by looking at it.”
“This… expresses the process of growth, making choices among countless possibilities?” Wang Jian chimed in.
“Mm, I think it’s about examining oneself in the eyes and feedback of countless others, searching for the most authentic self. Perhaps it means not caring about others’ feelings, or it could be about wandering and seeking the true self in confusion…” another teacher walked around to the painting, also admiring it.
“It could also be about overthrowing countless bad selves, making a brave transformation into a better self.” Qiu Yuan pointed to the figure closest to the viewer in one of the ice crystals, “This one is the clearest, and it’s reaching out from the hoarfrost branch closest to the artist. And the other figures in the ice crystals are all distorted, with somewhat painful expressions, but the face in this ice crystal closest to the viewer is resolute, although not painted very clearly, that emotion is well outlined. The artist’s ability to create is quite strong.”
“Staring at it, you feel like these branches are about to extend beyond the frame.”
“Mm, the more you look at this painting, the more captivating it becomes,” Yi Nansheng also approached.
“Do you think it has a chance to compete in the top three?” Qiu Yuan suddenly looked up.
“Do you like it that much?” Another professor from the art academy raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not about liking it. It’s mainly because nowadays there are many who can refine their painting skills, but those who truly have superior aesthetics, possess their own unique style, are emotionally rich and delicate, and understand how to express emotionally impactful paintings, are really few.”
“If one has reached this level at this age, their future prospects shouldn’t be underestimated, right?” Qiu Yuan said earnestly.
“This is watercolor. Artworks are not just accepted by us insiders.”
“It needs to be recognized by the mass market, the high-end aesthetic market, and the entire art community.”
“Does this child paint watercolors? Have watercolor paintings been circulating in domestic auction houses in recent years?”
“Do galleries sell watercolor paintings?”
“Do your major art schools have dedicated watercolor departments? And how is the enrollment situation?”
Yi Nansheng frowned as he asked.
“With this level of skill, it shouldn’t be difficult to switch to oil painting, right?” Qiu Yuan argued logically.