Choice

The aftermath of the exhibition was like a pebble dropped into a lake, ripples spreading slowly before gradually settling back to calm. Some local art media outlets reported briefly, and Maria forwarded me several inquiries from curators and collectors, their tones cautious yet interested. This calm, professional recognition reassured me more than any outpouring of sympathy.

I forwarded these emails to Assistant Lin, who was responsible for follow-up communications. My job wasn't to sell, but to continue creating.

The Li Wei episode seemed to have truly ended. There was no further news from Chen Hui, and Assistant Lin confirmed she hadn't reappeared. Her silhouette, tilted back in that candid photo, was like a paranoid ghost frozen in the past, no longer able to intrude on my reality. I packed up all the uncomfortable memories of her and sealed them away, tossing them into the corner of my consciousness.

As the residency entered its second half, the unfamiliarity of the surroundings had long since vanished, replaced by a deep familiarity, even intimacy. I became accustomed to the distinctive roar of each machine in the workshop, the smell of different metals being cut and welded, and the changing expression of the massive blast furnace as viewed from the studio window, depending on the light of the day.

My creative process also entered a new phase. No longer content with simply embedding industrial debris into the canvas, I began to experiment with a more thorough "smelting".

I gathered various discarded metal parts—gears, bearings, broken blades, twisted steel pipes—and placed them in a small induction furnace (which I had requested with Maria's technical support). Watching them melt under the extreme heat, coalescing into a hot, roiling, dangerous stream of molten metal, I was overwhelmed by a sense of primal and immense power.

I carefully poured these molten metals of varying compositions into rough sandstone molds, the shapes of which were inspired by my sketches: abstract forms imbued with a sense of fracture and reconnection.

After cooling, the sand mold is knocked off, revealing a strange, unpredictable form. Its surface is covered in rough grains and traces of oxidation, while its color, determined by the varying metal compositions, creates an unexpected, dull yet gorgeous luster. No longer cold waste, it is material, thoroughly transformed by energy, imbued with a new life.

Then, I combined these self-forged metal components with large canvases. This time, the methods of integration were more complex. Sometimes they were suspended, sometimes semi-embedded, and sometimes the paint seemed to flow out from the cracks in the metal.

The entire process is full of randomness and uncontrollability, with a high failure rate. But I'm addicted to this direct dialogue with the material, with fire, and with unpredictable results. It allows me to experience a more primal power that transcends personal emotions.

A new work is in progress. The core component is a block of metal I've melted, a dark silver hue with an eerie blue-violet glow. Its shape resembles a torn and then forcibly mended heart, cold and glaring. I'm experimenting with splattering large swaths of red paint, thick as blood and rust, around it, creating a tense, confrontational effect.

My phone vibrated on the workbench beside me. It was a video call request from my mother.

I wiped the handle and answered the call. My mother's face appeared on the other side of the screen, with the living room in the background. Everything looked normal, but there was a hint of panic in her eyes.

"Chenzhi..." Her voice was a little anxious, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom. What's wrong?" My heart tightened slightly.

"Oh, a woman just called the home phone!" The mother's tone was filled with complaints and fear. "She said she was your high school classmate, named... Li Wei. She asked me how you were doing recently, whether you were getting used to living abroad, and whether you had encountered any difficulties... She asked so many detailed questions! She also said that if I needed any help, I could contact her..."

My face instantly darkened. Li Wei! How dare she even harass my mother?

"...I told her that Chen Zhi was fine and not to worry. Then she started rambling again, asking if you had been in poor health as a child, if you had ever loved anything in the past... It sounded creepy! I quickly said I had to cook and hung up the phone!" The mother was still frightened, "What's wrong with this person? She's so weird! Is she..."

My mother didn't finish her words, but her worry was palpable. She was afraid that Li Wei was some kind of "crazy admirer" of mine, or worse, that she had mental problems.

A wave of icy anger instantly shot through my body. If it crossed my boundaries, I might be able to handle it coldly. But harassing my mother and disturbing her peaceful life was absolutely unforgivable!

I suppressed my anger and tried to keep my voice steady. "Mom, don't worry. She's just a high school classmate I haven't spoken to in years. Maybe she's been a little... crazy lately. Just ignore her. If she calls again, hang up immediately, or don't answer from unfamiliar numbers."

"Oh... OK, I get it." The mother breathed a sigh of relief, but was still worried. "Are you really okay out there? Be careful when you're alone..."

"It's okay, Mom. I'm fine. Look," I said, turning the camera to the powerful work in progress behind me, "it's busy."

My mother looked at the wild colors and cold metal, not quite understanding what was going on. But seeing that I was in good condition, she finally felt relieved: "Okay, go ahead and do your thing. Take care of yourself and eat on time..."

After a few more instructions, the call ended.

As soon as the video call ended, my face fell. Anger burned in my chest, and my fingers clenched tightly, my nails digging into my palms.

Li Wei. You're really haunting me.

I immediately called Chen Hui's number. It rang once and was picked up.

"Chen Hui, Li Wei just called and harassed my mother." I went straight to the point, my voice cold enough to freeze.

There was silence on the other end of the line for two seconds. When Chen Hui spoke again, his tone was no longer as calm and sarcastic as before, but instead took on a rare, icy sharpness: "What exactly did you say?"

I repeated my mother's words.

"Understood." Chen Hui's voice was emotionless, yet it gave people a sense of terrifying certainty. "The nature of this matter has changed. Leave it to me. You don't need to ask any more questions."

"What are you going to do?" I asked. I didn't want Chen Hui to get into trouble because of me.

"A legal and compliant method," Chen Hui said calmly. "She found your mother's contact information through public information and made harassing inquiries. That's sufficient. As your domestic legal representative, I will issue a formal lawyer's letter to her, clearly informing her of the illegality of her actions and the potential legal consequences. Normally, for a 'respectable person' like her, this document is enough to be an effective deterrent."

She paused, then added, "If it doesn't work, there are follow-up procedures. It'll be enough to make her fully sober."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Chen Hui's approach was calm, precise, and powerful.

"Thank you." I said sincerely.

"No need. Maintaining order is my specialty." Chen Hui said calmly, "Focus on your smelting. Don't be distracted by this noise."

After hanging up the phone, I stood in the middle of the studio and took a few deep breaths, trying to suppress the cold anger.

His gaze fell back on the unfinished work. The dark silver-purple, torn metal heart reflected a cold, hard light under the light.

Suddenly, the feeling of being violated and irritated found an outlet.

I strode over to the paint table and, instead of a brush, grabbed a large bucket of thick, unmixed, deep black acrylic paint.

Walking up to the canvas, I stared at the metal heart.

Then, he swung his arms violently—

Crash!

I splattered a bucket of thick black paint onto the canvas, precisely covering the previously overly exposed blood-rust red, and also partially covering the metal heart!

The thick black paint was like an angry tide, instantly engulfing a large area, flowing downward, covering, and enveloping...

After the intense movement, I gasped and looked at the almost destroyed scene in front of me.

The original composition and color relationships were completely disrupted. The cold metal heart was mostly concealed beneath the thick black, with only a few sharp edges and protrusions stubbornly piercing through the blackness, revealing itself, appearing even more abrupt and impactful.

A suffocating and powerful tension after destruction permeates the picture.

Stronger than any carefully constructed effect I've ever had!

I stared blankly, and the anger in my heart was gradually replaced by a great artistic pleasure.

So... it's possible.

Chen Hui is right.

I shouldn't be distracted by noise.

I should be... more ruthless.

I threw away the empty bucket and looked at the work that had been accidentally rewritten, a cold arc slowly appearing at the corners of my mouth.

Li Wei.

You will never know that your harassment will eventually become the most dramatic footnote to my next work.

Chen Hui’s lawyer’s letter will be the perfect ending to this footnote.

I picked up the scraper and began to carve new marks on the wet, dark background.

This time, there was no hesitation.