However, no one brought up the kids’ competition in painting again.
Yet the silence and discomfort of Sun Qian and others persisted until the end of the meal, when everyone went their separate ways.
On the way back to the hotel, Hua Jie sat silently, lost in thought.
Doing something on one’s own is supposed to be simple.
There are only two possible outcomes: success or failure.
One just has to bear it.
If successful, be happy; if not, keep trying.
But humans are social animals; living in society, things suddenly become complicated.
If you fail, you not only have to endure the pain of failure but also face criticism and scrutiny from teachers, parents, and outsiders.
Painting is supposed to be a joyful activity, enjoying one’s little world, using pen and paper to express one’s feelings, depicting the world as one sees it.
But can Sun Qian and the others still enjoy that simplicity and joy in their painting?
He paints until his hands are swollen from the cold, striving to win, perhaps not just to justify his love and dedication to painting, but also to stand up for his teacher and for himself.
Standing up for oneself… It’s all about earning the admiration and praise of others.
No one can escape all this.
She rubbed her hands, retracted her gaze, and glanced at the back of Shen Jiaru’s head.
The teacher might be too proud or perhaps worried about them being under too much psychological pressure; he almost never criticizes them for the outcomes of these competitions and contests.
At least Hua Jie never felt pressure coming from Teacher Shen.
It seemed he was trying hard to protect their love for painting, finding various ways to immerse them in the art itself, focusing on the quality of their paintings rather than the outcome of a competition, or whether they had made him look good or embarrassed him.
As they alighted from the car and entered the hotel, they took the elevator.
When Teacher Shen was the first to exit the elevator, Hua Jie earnestly said, “Teacher, thank you.”
Shen Jiaru was slightly taken aback and turned to meet Hua Jie’s gaze.
As the elevator doors closed, he smiled faintly and walked briskly back to his room.
…
Back in the room, Fang Shaojun was about to take a shower first, but seeing Hua Jie absentmindedly staring into space, she spoke up:
“You go ahead and shower first, then get some early sleep.”
Hua Jie acknowledged with an “Oh,” and went into the bathroom with her change of clothes.
Fang Shaojun stared at the bathroom door for a while, then muttered, “Didn’t even say thank you. It’s rare for me to let someone else go first.”
The sound of water echoed from the bathroom. Fang Shaojun sat for a while, then took out the sketch she had done of the Forbidden City earlier that day.
She stared at it for a moment, then sighed suddenly.
She had been complacent in her talent for too long, never imagining that one day, someone would show her that there are always greater talents out there.
Hua Jie could even paint in oils, and her skills were clearly no weaker than in watercolor.
How much effort and passion had she really put into painting?
Taking a deep breath, Fang Shaojun, who had always been immersed in her painting, for the first time wanted to see a broader world because Hua Jie had shown her excellence beyond her own and opened a different door for her.
Her perception of the world seemed to have suddenly changed.
Fang Shaojun sat on the bed, waiting for Hua Jie to finish showering, while lost in her thoughts.
Her past in learning painting, the present, and the future.
What exactly did the teacher mean when he said their futures would take different paths?
Did it mean that because Hua Jie had chosen the path of watercolors, they would not cross paths much?
The bathroom door clicked open, and the young girl came out in a bathrobe, toweling her hair and looking down as she walked, her face rosy and more spirited than before.
Fang Shaojun then stood up, sorting out her clothes to wear, while waiting for the humidity in the bathroom to disperse a bit.
As she walked into the bathroom with her things, she paused, turned back to see Hua Jie still standing by the bed drying her hair, and then said:
“I’ve placed a glass of milk on your bedside table. Drink it before bed to help you sleep.”
After saying this, without waiting for a response, Fang Shaojun walked into the bathroom and closed the door with a click.
Hua Jie turned her head in a daze, staring at the bathroom door for a while before walking over to the bedside table.
She picked up the milk and checked the time—still fresh, not expired.
Why was Fang Shaojun suddenly being nice to her?
Hua Jie inserted the straw and took a sip, continuing to dry her nearly dry hair with a towel after blow-drying.
Now that her hair had grown long and thick, drying it in one go was too exhausting; she had used up all her energy just getting it mostly dry.
Lying on the bed, she thought for a moment, then pulled out her phone, let her hair fall loose to air dry, and started texting Shen Mo.
She sent over her thoughts from the day, then continued to stare blankly with her hand resting on her phone.
She thought she would have to wait a long time for his reply, but unexpectedly, he responded almost immediately:
【In this world, it’s impossible to be completely free from the influence of others’ views. Social pressure is normal, but there’s no need to be overly stubborn or feel ashamed because of it. It’s all quite normal.】
Hua Jie thought for a moment and then typed:
【Yes, on one hand, I feel sorry for Sun Qian and the others having to bear pressure from all sides, and on the other, I realize that I can’t escape it either. Being human is really tough, huh.】
【Struggle is the norm of life. Anyone seeking a life without hardships or imperfections is only making trouble for themselves. Being generally happy should be enough; the older you get, the more you’ll understand this.】 Shen Mo.
【Wow, why do you sound like an old man?】 Hua Jie.
【You’re the one, why are you fussing over philosophy at such a young age? Isn’t it fun to eat and drink your way through Beijing?】 Shen Mo.
【You’re young but so philosophical yourself, talking in ways deeper than I would have thought.】 While texting, Hua Jie couldn’t help but admire; Shen Mo was really mature for his age, grasping concepts she hadn’t fully understood even in her past life.
【I am a man meant to conquer the world; the sooner I understand philosophical truths, the better. You’re different; you are a woman chasing dreams, just focus on your painting.】Shen Mo.
【By the way, I sold another painting today, am I amazing or what?】Hua Jie’s mood improved without realizing it, and she couldn’t help showing off to him.
She waited, smiling with her lips pursed for a reply, but after a long while, there was no vibration alert for a new message.
She blinked and checked the time—it was already past ten-thirty. Had he suddenly fallen asleep while chatting?
Just as she was wondering, her phone suddenly vibrated intensely—it was Shen Mo calling unexpectedly.
…
In the evening, Shen Mo sat at home reading, feeling inexplicably restless.
He would stand up and wander around after reading for a bit, his eyes invariably drawn to his phone.
He wondered how her day was going—whether it was smooth, if anything interesting or bothersome had happened.
He knew nothing.
It was truly irritating.
Usually, he had at least a vague idea of what she was up to throughout the day, even if not in full detail.
But these past few days, there had been a sudden break from that routine, which he found quite unsettling.
Was she not good with her phone?
Why was it always so quiet? Didn’t she want to share something tasty she ate or something fun she saw?
Didn’t she learn in preschool that sharing is a human virtue?
However, his days off were calm, whereas she must be very busy, involved in competitions and having to interact with various people, probably too busy to text him.
And he foolishly told her that the phone thing was their little secret.
What’s secretive about it… She wouldn’t be avoiding using her phone out of fear that someone would find out she has one, would she?
That would be like shooting himself in the foot.
Keeping himself busy all day, he found it increasingly difficult to calm down by evening.
He frequently checked his phone to see if there were any messages he hadn’t noticed, but each time he was disappointed.
He wanted to send her a text but couldn’t find the right topic.
Surely it was time for her, little potato, to send him a message first, or what would his position as the elder one mean?
However… if she did text him first, saving his face, he would definitely call her.
It had been several days since they last chatted. Didn’t she miss him like he missed her?
As this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly paused.
Ah…
He realized—he f*cking missed her.
Even just thinking this phrase in his mind felt overwhelmingly cheesy.
He furrowed his brows, his expression souring as he stared at the water glass in front of him.
Suddenly, the text message notification on his phone sounded, and his eyes widened instantly, his expression brightened.
After exchanging a few messages, Shen Mo felt the irritations that had bothered him all day vanish in an instant.
When he read her message asking if she was amazing, Shen Mo could imagine her tone and expression as she said it.
A sudden itch like a cat’s claw tickled his heart, and he took a deep breath, staring at the message for quite a while.
His mood, which had just eased, began to become restless again.
Communicating via text felt like scratching an itch through a boot—it wasn’t satisfying his desires.
Clutching his phone for a long while, he finally took another deep breath and made the call.
…
“Ah, I’m going out to take this,” Hua Jie answered the phone, immediately wrapped herself in a down jacket, put on the hood, and made sure she was fully covered before stepping out.
“Mm.” The young man was clearly excited, yet found himself unable to speak fluently.
This form of calling seemed to convey a hard-to-describe sense of ambiguity.
It was like a ritual that could make his face turn red, his heartbeat suddenly racing, his throat tightening.
It was as if he worried about not being interesting enough or suddenly getting stuck.
Holding the phone in silence while waiting for her to walk out of the hotel room felt almost suffocating.
It was awkward to an inexplicable extent.
He had been alone with her in silence before, and it had never felt like this.
The phone was a strange thing, unsettling.
“Okay, I’m in the hallway now, what are you up to?” Hua Jie, however, sounded completely at ease, as if making a call was no big deal.
How?
Why was she so calm talking to him?
Aren’t you even a little bit anxious?
Not even a bit nervous?
Shen Mo ground his teeth, “I was reading a book, seeing your bragging texts made me decide to give you some face, to listen to how arrogant your boasting could sound.”
“Hahaha!” Hua Jie leaned against the heater at the corner of the hallway, laughing heartily, “Our group went to sketch at the Forbidden City, and out of the top ten, only my painting was sold.
“Do you think I’m pretty amazing?”
She spoke in a teasing, exaggerated tone, her bragging almost asking for a beating.
Facing the neon-lit streets of Beijing not far from the window, Hua Jie felt somewhat cheerful.
Having such a friend with whom she could speak her mind without fear of mockery was truly a joy.
Especially since this friend was also a super handsome guy—smart and wise—that added to her joy and even satisfied her vanity a bit.
Look! My brother! A big handsome guy! And he’s super nice to me!
“You’ve got some kind of magic touch, huh? Does the God of Wealth live at your place or what?” Shen Mo picked at the desk, realizing that her carefree happiness made him feel more at ease too, “How much did it sell for? What happened?”
Hua Jie then vividly recounted the day’s events to him, transferring her joy through the signal to the young man far away in Jinsong.
“Quite impressive, huh? You should treat us when you get back, let’s have a big meal!” Shen Mo’s voice also carried a smile, “Honestly, even my dad didn’t expect you to win second place.”
“Really? Does the teacher think I’m not good enough?” Hua Jie pouted.
“It’s not that. At dinner at home, he discussed with Zhao Xiaolei about the judges invited by the Tsinghua Academy of Fine Arts competition organization, mostly old-timers from the circle, who’ve been steeped in it for a long time, and their thinking is quite fixed.”
“This group of people, some teach students as professors, others bury themselves in their paintings and participate in exhibitions. The first kind follows their own set methods, year after year, repetitively outputting.”
“The second kind follows their own methods, painting over painting.”
“Their aesthetics are fixed, their thinking is fixed, and so are their views on the future of the market.”
“So my dad originally thought that the competition organization might not rank your watercolor paintings very high, because all the paintings have to be sold at the exhibition in the end, and if your painting didn’t sell, wouldn’t that mean there’s something wrong with their taste? That a painting from the second-place winner in the competition couldn’t be sold. And to date, watercolor paintings indeed haven’t received much market attention or acceptance.”
“I was a bit worried when I heard all this, but hearing that you won second place, I was quite impressed.”
“How well did you actually paint that piece, to be able to break through despite so many obstacles?
“And this was your first time participating in such a formal competition.”