The sky over Beijing on the 8th was clear and blue, the thick white clouds heavy and slowly moving southward with the breeze, creating a beautiful scene.
Passing by a red-brick wall, the photographer Wang Qi told the driver to stop the car. He found a very artistic angle by the roadside and captured the old palace wall against the new blue sky.
Back in the car, Hu Yue, the editor-in-chief of “Visual 111” magazine, asked him:
“Don’t you need to take a few more shots? What if they don’t turn out well?”
“No need, I’m confident in my framing, lighting, and hand stability,” Wang Qi replied confidently, clutching his camera.
Despite having captured the beautiful blue sky and palace wall, there was still not a trace of a smile on his face.
“Shen Jiaru is such a great painter, someone I’ve wanted to meet for many years. I’m incredibly excited to finally meet him, can’t you be a little happy?”
“You studied art too, right? Shouldn’t you feel some excitement about meeting a great artist?” Hu Yue turned around in his seat, left hand on the back of the chair, and grinned at Wang Qi.
“I was supposed to be shooting fashion, beautiful clothes, and beautiful women, and now, look, I have to shoot an old man,” Wang Qi sighed.
He was quite superficial, uninterested in any famous or respected figures, only feeling the urge to shoot when faced with visually stimulating scenery or beautiful people.
“Teacher Shen isn’t that old… Among those who paint, aren’t there many who are not only talented but also good-looking?” Hu Yue said, trying to soothe him.
“Forget it, high school and college students are at the age when they’re most unpolished, not knowing how to dress well. The ones who are both good-looking and know how to enhance their strengths and hide their weaknesses, having a fashion sense, are almost non-existent,” Wang Qi shook his head.
“Where exactly did you go to high school and college? It sounds too bad to be true. There were plenty of pretty, stylish girls around me during my high school and college days,” Hu Yue disagreed.
“…” Wang Qi pursed his lips.
“I heard from Professor Wang Jian of the competition organizing committee this morning that all four of Shen Jiaru’s students are quite good-looking, and the two girls are said to be very pretty,” Hu Yue mentioned.
“Aren’t they from Jinsong in Inner Mongolia? Coming from a small border city in the North, aren’t they bound to be rustic?” Wang Qi’s sense of superiority as a Beijing photographer was particularly offensive.
“Only one student is actually from Jinsong. The other three came from some of the top cities in the country,” Hu Yue glared at him. “Any one of those three students from the big cities has a family background that could crush yours. A good family background tends to nurture good taste and demeanor in children, so you might want to keep your prejudices to yourself.”
“…” Wang Qi still shook his head, completely lacking confidence in capturing any good-looking subjects today.
He thought to himself that he should focus mainly on photographing the paintings and the scene, as well as Teacher Shen, who was the main subject of today’s interview, and definitely needed to be featured prominently.
Nothing else, it seems, could really spark his desire to take photos.
Twenty minutes later, Hu Yue and Wang Qi arrived at the exhibition center rented for the Qingmei Biennale.
After checking in and receiving their ID cards, Wang Qi entered and found the venue arranged in a very modern artistic style, with a cutting-edge and fashionable combination of colors, decorations, lighting, and barriers.
The style was sophisticated and impactful.
True to form for an event organized by an art school, the aesthetic was tightly controlled.
After finding several good angles, Wang Qi took a number of carefully arranged shots.
Hu Yue had already found their seats and settled down, but Wang Qi began wandering around, looking for another backdrop or corner that might ignite his desire to shoot.
Many of the people brushing past him were peers, or else editors and reporters from magazines and newspapers.
There were also artists and art enthusiasts from various other fields, most gathering in pairs to chat and share feelings before the event started.
Wang Qi’s camera hung in front of his chest, unlifted for a long time.
He didn’t want to shoot, didn’t want to shoot, didn’t want to shoot anything at all.
That was until he turned into the backstage area and, along a corridor, saw a group of industry bigwigs chatting, with a few children scattered around them.
One of the girls, with a casually tied yet stylistically intriguing bun on her head, had delicate and curly wisps of hair framing her temples, both elegant and youthfully lazy.
For the first time since entering the venue, Wang Qi, through the eyes of a photographer, caught sight of a hairstyle that was both detailed and crafted with skill—
The others, either with gel-stiffened hair or vulgarly overdressed, were uninteresting and mundane.
The bun worn by the girl in front of him was the only hairstyle that gave him a sense of freshness and comfort that was just right.
His hand unconsciously reached for his camera.
Then, his gaze followed from the hairstyle down to the girl’s beautiful, large cat eyes, which, thanks to her thick, long lashes, needed no eyeliner to appear as if they were finely outlined, enhancing the contours of her eyes beautifully.
Her features were harmonious and pretty, with rosy lips and white teeth, clear brows and bright eyes—a real beauty.
Wang Qi hadn’t felt particularly compelled to shoot upon seeing this.
But upon noticing the girl’s unique outfit, he gasped, suddenly intrigued.
Since the venue was warm, the girl held her down jacket in her arms, with a small backpack hanging casually off her elbow.
The black shirt she wore was special, half embroidered with a small cat, and the other half a clean, pure black, full of design sense.
Every time she moved her arms, the beautiful and interesting butterfly sleeves were emphasized.
Her lower garment, a modified riding skirt, was even more beautiful, with embroidery that was both grand and classy.
The young girl, tired of standing, walked over to a solid wall, placed her down jacket on a small stool next to her, and leaned against the heater in a posture that was both lazy and tinged with the innocence and purity unique to young girls.
Her budding figure was curvy and well-formed, and her vacant gaze combined with her slightly parted lips created a beauty that was unconscious and uniquely tender and charming.
Wang Qi could no longer resist; he raised his camera, crouched slightly, and rapidly took two consecutive shots.
The second time he pressed the shutter, the girl noticed him, turned her head, and looked over with wide cat eyes, her gaze vaguely focused, like a little fairy lost in the mortal world, pure and enveloped in the outdoor light, as if bewildered by the myriad things of the earth.
Later, Wang Qi found out that she was Shen Jiaru’s ‘country bumpkin’ student who had won second place in the competition.
Her name was Hua Jie.
…
…
Ju Lei really didn’t want to attend the top ten awards ceremony at the Qingmei Biennale. His senior apprentice’s painting, “Under Jingshan,” had come in ninth, at the very bottom.
It was said that due to an error in counting by the competition organizers, two extra slots had been mistakenly added and were only released after correcting the error.
In other words, his apprentice’s painting had made it to the top ten only as a replacement.
Recalling the call he had made to Shen Jiaru before the competition, he felt utterly ashamed.
During the days following the announcement of the results, he hadn’t shown his students any good graces.
Each one was disappointing, not putting in effort in their daily painting, and even during the competition, they failed to perform.
Today, Ju Lei and his four students, including Sun Qian, walked behind him, all with heads bowed and spirits low.
When the awards ceremony began, only Sun Qian went on stage.
Ju Lei’s four students all knew the names of the other students often mentioned by their teacher—Fang Shaojun, Hua Jie, Qian Chong, and Lu Yunfei. Seeing these four students of Shen Jiaru, their expressions were filled with jealousy and resentment.
Qian Chong, who placed eighth, stood on stage to receive his certificate and prize money, with Sun Qian next to him.
Qian Fugui was already a bit upset today. Hua Jie and the others had ranked higher than him, and he was discontent.
When Sun Qian noticed that Qian Chong was glaring at him for some inexplicable reason, constantly staring him down, Qian Chong’s temper flared instantly. As he stepped off the stage, he deliberately stepped on Sun Qian’s foot, using all his strength, and without any hint of politeness.
Sun Qian’s shoe was nearly ruined, and his toes throbbed as if they had been run over by a car.
“What are you doing?” Sun Qian looked up and angrily demanded.
“It wasn’t on purpose. The whole crowd is watching, keep your voice down,” Qian Chong retorted with a defiant sneer and walked away, not even bothering to apologize.
“…” Sun Qian was furious, but he couldn’t make a scene in public.
In an instant, Teacher Shen’s four students were even more firmly cast in the role of the ‘villains’ in his eyes, and he was convinced that not one of them was decent.
Meanwhile, Hua Jie, who was about to be prominently awarded one of the top three trophies, certificates, and prize money, was unaware that she had inexplicably become a target of envy.
She stood tall and straight, and even if she was not graceful and delicate, she certainly carried herself with a commanding presence.
Her gaze swept over the crowd, and she saw how many eyes were fixed on the three of them.
When her eyes met Shen Jiaru’s, she saw the pride and joy in her teacher’s eyes, a smile born of his student’s achievement.
Her lips curled up higher, and she smiled back at her teacher.
In this moment of glory, the hours of diligent, hard work seemed insignificant in comparison.
Her once ordinary and frustrating life had reached its first pinnacle.
In the eyes of the onlookers, she saw her own value and excellence, and finally felt the tangible reality of winning.
It felt wonderful, a taste of true accomplishment.
She took a deep breath, youthful and vibrant, assertive and confident, dazzlingly beautiful.
Wang Qi, standing in the audience, zoomed in his lens.
With a click, he captured the girl’s smile at that moment.
…
Before the award-giving guests arrived, she turned to look at the girl standing between herself and another boy:
“You’re the champion, huh? Impressive!”
“As it should be,” Fang Shaojun glanced at her and turned her head back, chin slightly raised, allowing herself a rare smile.
After the award ceremony, the top three were surrounded by photographers snapping pictures.
The three young people all stood up straight, completely lacking any semblance of intimacy among them.
Wang Qi, standing nearby, suddenly spoke up:
“Could Fang Shaojun and Hua Jie move a bit closer? Let’s get a good photo of the ‘Shen Sect Beauties’ together.”
“…” Hua Jie turned to look at Fang Shaojun, feeling it was too much to ask for close interaction with her.
Besides, she didn’t want to take a photo with Fang Shaojun at this time.
What was there to commemorate about losing to Miss Fang now?
In the future, when she beats Fang Shaojun and makes her the second, while she takes the lead, that would be worth capturing in a photo.
“…” Fang Shaojun was obviously not pleased either.
But she turned to look at Hua Jie and saw the usually vibrant girl showing a reluctant and embarrassed smile at this moment, which unexpectedly lifted her spirits.
Since Hua Jie had joined Teacher Shen’s art class, it seemed that the teacher’s focus had largely shifted to Hua Jie.
Hua Jie’s first attempt at watercolor copying, her first still life, her first attempt at copying a portrait in watercolor, her first live portrait in watercolor, Hua Jie finding her style, hitting a bottleneck, breaking through by simplifying and starting over, Hua Jie coloring her sketches in her own style again… Hua Jie painting “Countless Selves in Crystal Ice.”
Fang Shaojun remembered each of Hua Jie’s firsts, because this cat-eyed girl seemed to naturally possess a remarkable ability to draw attention.
She always made it impossible for others to ignore her, impossible not to care.
But the more this was the case, the less Fang Shaojun could accept it.
Why was Hua Jie always so passionate? Always so happy and cheerful?
They all proceeded restrained and cautiously, suppressing the fear of being overtaken every day, painstakingly honing their skills one stroke, one drawing at a time.