3 03

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On the west bank of the Shanghai Bund, a low-key private art warehouse is hidden in the twilight.

Xu Jia arrived alone in his car, the low growl of the engine sounding particularly jarring in the quiet street. He entered through the main entrance. The warehouse interior had a cold, industrial feel, with concrete walls, metal structures, and dim lighting; only the sound of his footsteps echoed in the empty corridor.

He stopped in front of a heavy metal door at the deepest part of the room. After his fingerprint was verified, the door lock made a soft "click" sound and slowly slid open.

A rich and familiar aroma of turpentine and flaxseed oil wafted over him, instantly enveloping him. In stark contrast to the cold, technological feel of the outside world, the space inside the door was another world—a pure and private art studio forgotten by time.

The space is large, preserving the original cement floor and walls, even some mottled marks. But the lighting is meticulously designed, with countless adjustable spotlights precisely shining on the paintings on the walls, like a stage spotlight, illuminating the treasured past.

There is none of the gloom, twistedness, and ferocity found in the Black Muse series here.

The paintings hanging on the wall, propped up on easels, and even piled against the wall are all his early works. The colors are bright and saturated, and the brushstrokes are full of youthful vitality and sunshine.

Each painting is like a window to the past.

The canvas depicts the same girl—Lin Ruoyin during her university years.

One of the paintings depicts her sitting in his cluttered yet vibrant rented studio, head bowed, mixing colors, her profile focused, sunlight streaming through the window, casting tiny dappled patterns of light on the bridge of her nose.

One of the paintings is taken under a sycamore tree on campus. She turns around and smiles, her hair is blown by the autumn wind, and her eyes are as clear as a mountain stream, with golden fallen leaves behind her.

One of the paintings shows her curled up on the sofa reading a book, wearing his oversized shirt, barefoot, with sunlight dancing on her eyelashes, looking as soft and languid as a cat.

There's even another picture of her pouting slightly when she's angry, her eyebrows furrowed, but there's no real anger in her eyes. It's so vivid and lifelike, as if she's about to burst into laughter at any moment.

Every stroke, every color, embodies his unreserved, passionate, and clumsy love at that time.

Xu Jia walked slowly past each painting, his steps light, like a pilgrim surveying the altar he had long lost yet stubbornly preserved. His gaze, held at a distance, lightly brushed over the outlines of the figures in the paintings, a mixture of infatuation and pain in his eyes.

Finally, he stopped in the center of the studio, where a clean white linen cloth covered the easel.

He stood still for a long time, then reached out and gently lifted the white cloth.

On the canvas is an unfinished work.

It retains the bright and cheerful style of her earlier works. In the painting, Lin Ruoyin wears a white cotton dress adorned with daisies, standing in a field of golden sunflowers in full bloom. She looks up, her smile dazzlingly radiant.

This painting began five years ago. On the night his first solo exhibition abroad achieved unprecedented success, and the media hailed him as the "Light of the Orient," he was filled with immense excitement and boundless anticipation. He wanted to paint his imagined reunion, to tell her that he had done it, that he could give her a future in the way she had insisted…

But the paintbrush ultimately remained forever frozen at the moment when her smile was at its most radiant, never adding another stroke.

The afternoon the news of her engagement arrived was like the cruelest verdict, forever freezing the painting, along with all his fantasies about the future, in time. The pure white canvas, the bright sunflowers, the radiant smiles—all became the greatest irony for him.

...

The top-floor conference room of the Lu Group.

Brand Director Li Wei is reporting on the progress: "President Lin, the promotional work for the 'Traces of Time' exhibition has been fully launched. As planned, the exhibition will officially open at the Shanghai Art Center on the 15th."

Lin Ruoyin nodded gently, her fingertips tracing across the schedule: "Time is tight."

“Yes.” Li Wei switched the slides. “We have completed the production of the first round of promotional materials. The main visual is based on the concept of an ‘hourglass of time’, coupled with the slogan ‘Some values ​​need time to witness’, and the response on social media has been quite good.”

Marketing Director Chen Ming then reported: "We plan to promote the exhibition in three phases: the first phase will focus on the 'Finding Jewelry with Stories' campaign; the second phase will emphasize the core concept of the exhibition; and the third phase will release information about Mr. Xu's exhibits before the opening."

Lin Ruoyin nodded. "What's the progress on the promotional materials for Elder Xu?"

"The initial design is complete," Li Wei said, projecting the design sample onto the projection screen.

A highly textured poster appeared on the screen—a deep blue background like a tranquil night sky, with the profile of Master Xu Jingming on the left, his head bowed, intently carving a piece of gold, the carving knife in his hand gleaming under the light. On the right was a close-up of his masterpiece, "Beautiful Mountains and Rivers," the gold-inlaid landscape patterns exquisitely detailed. Above the poster, in gold lettering, were the words: "Time refines true gold, craftsmanship forges eternity," and below was Xu Jingming's signature.

“We have obtained the rights to Mr. Xu’s images; these are the photos he took in his studio last year,” Li Wei added.

Lin Ruoyin carefully examined every detail of the poster and nodded gently: "Send me a copy of the original, and I'll send it to Elder Xu for confirmation."

"OK."

After the meeting, Lin Ruoyin returned to her office and sent the original poster to Xu Jingming with a note: "Mr. Xu, this is the first draft of the promotional poster I designed for you. Please take a look. If there are any adjustments needed, please let me know. I look forward to your 'Beautiful Landscape' series of works shining brightly in the exhibition."

The message was sent at 4 p.m., and Lin Ruoyin did not receive a reply from Mr. Xu until 7 p.m. after finishing all her work for the day.

Just as she was about to get up and leave the office, a notification popped up on her tablet—

Master Xu Jingming dedicates himself to digital art! Mohe Capital signs a major deal, bringing a disruptor to traditional crafts.

Lin Ruoyin stared at the title for a long time before clicking on the details.

The news report also included an interview with Mr. Xu.

Lin Ruoyin's gaze lingered on one of Old Xu's answers.

"Tradition needs innovation, and craftsmanship needs breakthroughs. I chose to collaborate with Inkcore precisely because I value their vision in the field of digital art..."

Lin Ruoyin was shocked for a long time before slowly putting down the tablet and looking at the poster design draft that was still open. On the screen, Xu Jingming's profile, focused on carving, seemed particularly ironic at this moment.

Lin Ruoyin did not live to see the next day.

That evening, she drove to Xu Jingming's residence in the western suburbs.

This was a secluded courtyard in the Jiangnan region, with white walls and black tiles, appearing exceptionally serene under the moonlight. She had known Mr. Xu for many years and knew his character well; she absolutely refused to believe he would break his promise without warning. There must be a hidden story, and the most likely culprit was the man in the news photo posing with Mr. Xu.

Xu Jia.

Looking at the familiar courtyard gate, Lin Ruoyin felt a surge of absurdity. Just hours before, she had been designing promotional posters for Mr. Xu, imagining how his masterpieces would amaze everyone at the "Imprints of Time" exhibition. In the blink of an eye, it all seemed like a joke.

A butler with gray hair, dressed in plain Chinese-style clothing, led Lin Ruoyin through the moonlit corridor and into the living room.

The living room lights were on, and two people sat beside a Chinese-style rosewood tea tray.

One was Xu Jingming, dressed in an elegant Tang suit, and the other was standing with his back to her, tall and straight. Even though it was just a back view, Lin Ruoyin recognized him instantly.

The image of that back seemed to possess some kind of magnetic field, causing her to unconsciously pause for a moment.

Hearing footsteps, Xu Jia did not turn around. He thought it was Lu Yan coming, until the footsteps stopped behind him and a faint scent of iris wafted into the air.

Xu Jia's gesture of raising his glass paused almost imperceptibly.

He slowly turned his head around.

When Lin Ruoyin's figure came into clear view, his deep pupils contracted for a moment. Although his face remained expressionless, a hint of surprise, which he couldn't hide, did flash across his usually calm eyes.

The dim light cast shadows on his sharply defined face, making it difficult to discern the emotions surging beneath that unexpected expression.

"President Lin." Xu Jingming saw her, a complex look of guilt flashing across his face, and then he stood up. "You've come."

Lin Ruoyin noticed that he didn't call her "Ruoyin" as usual, but rather the unfamiliar "President Lin." This subtle change made Lin Ruoyin's heart sink even further.

She immediately realized that she had lost even her last bit of personal influence.

“Mr. Xu,” Lin Ruoyin tried to remain calm, but her gaze involuntarily swept over Xu Jia, “I saw the news. I think we need to talk. We had a previous…”

“President Lin,” Xu Jingming interrupted her, his tone gentle like an elder, yet revealing an undeniable distance, “I have now entrusted President Xu with the full responsibility for the specific details of the cooperation. You can communicate with him if you have any questions.”

Xu Jingming picked up the purple clay teapot on the table and walked naturally to the tea room next door. "We're running out of tea leaves. I'll go get some more. You guys chat first."

Watching Old Master Xu's retreating figure, Lin Ruoyin suddenly felt that this elder she had respected for so many years had become so unfamiliar at this moment. Could it be that all sentimentality is so fragile in the face of absolute self-interest?

Suddenly, only the two of them remained in the living room. The air seemed to freeze, save for the faint chirping of insects outside the window and the tense, silent standoff between them.

Lin Ruoyin looked at Xu Jia, who sat there leisurely, his fingertips gently stroking the warm purple clay cup, his posture calm and even showing a hint of relaxation as if he was in control of the whole situation.

He has changed.

Lin Ruoyin's gaze carefully traced his features.

He was no longer the boy who would awkwardly hand her a sketch full of smiling faces when she was angry, trying to coax her; nor was he the art believer who would repeatedly adjust the canvas in a small studio to capture a glimpse of twilight, his brows full of persistence and purity.

Now, he is like a sharp blade honed in the shadows for years, every inch of his lines gleaming with a cold, icy light.

Regardless of who the opponent is, this is a war, a business showdown.

She cannot back down before the battle even begins.

This realization acted like a shot of adrenaline, slowly calming the old turmoil surging in my heart.

Lin Ruoyin took a deep breath and sat down next to Xu Jia under his deep and unfathomable gaze.

She crossed the safe distance between the two, which was originally filled with a sense of confrontation.

She looked up, meeting his suddenly deep gaze, her voice regaining its usual calm, "Let's talk."

The air suddenly became tense.

At this distance, Xu Jia could see her slightly trembling eyelashes, catch a glimpse of tension she was forcibly suppressing in her eyes, and even sense a hint of disordered breathing beneath her restraint.

Seeing that he didn't answer, Lin Ruoyin's voice rang out again: "...President Xu?"

Xu Jia's fingers, which were resting on her thigh, curled unconsciously for a moment before relaxing. He turned slightly to face her more directly, their knees almost touching.

"Talk?" His Adam's apple bobbed as he uttered a low, monotone sound, the last syllable rising slightly with an undeniable pressure. "How do you want to talk?"

Their eyes met, and it felt as if invisible lightning was crackling in the air.

Lin Ruoyin: "I would like to invite Mohe to join the 'Imprint of Time' exhibition."

Xu Jia simply looked at Lin Ruoyin, his face revealing nothing of his inner thoughts.

Lin Ruoyin continued, "The collaboration between Mohe and Lu's will definitely attract a lot of attention. The media will scramble to report on the industry's progress and the forward-looking cooperation between a traditional giant and an innovative platform."

Finally, a faint smile flickered across Xu Jia's eyes.

Lin Ruoyin was momentarily dazed, but quickly regained her senses. She leaned forward slightly, a gesture that made her appear incredibly sincere. "With the support of the Lu family, the industry resistance caused by the image of the Mo Core disruptor can be greatly reduced."

After a long pause, Xu Jia finally spoke, his voice low and calm, "A very interesting suggestion."

He slowly stood up, looking down at her. "But..." Xu Jia seemed to be considering it, but finally used the title: "Mrs. Lu."

His voice was soft, yet sharp as a razor's edge: "Do you think I need to be bound by tradition?"

Lin Ruoyin: "..."

Xu Jia leaned forward slightly, and Lin Ruoyin could see the cold glint in his eyes. He shook his head slightly, "I'm not here to cooperate with tradition, but to completely destroy it—" He paused deliberately, looking into her slightly dilated pupils, and said, word by word, "completely destroy it."