Li Wei

The plane pierced through the thick clouds, revealing the lush, late-spring landscape of Europe below—a stark contrast to the sweltering heat of Beijing upon departure. An unfamiliar air, a mixture of fuel and detergent, filled the cabin. The ten-plus hours of flight hadn't brought on any fatigue, but rather a trance-like feeling, as if escaping the grip of gravity.

I landed, went through customs, and collected my luggage. I breathed a sigh of relief when the huge suitcase and the two carefully wrapped paintings arrived safely. I followed the signs to the pick-up point, where a tall, bearded man was waiting, holding a sign with my name on it.

"Zhang?" he confirmed in heavily accented English. "Yes. Hello, is this Klaus?" I tried to pronounce the words correctly. "Welcome to the Ruhr area!" He smiled brightly and took my heaviest suitcase. "The car is outside. Maria is waiting for you at the studio."

Klaus is one of the coordinators of the residency program, responsible for reception and logistics. The car pulled out of the airport and sped along the highway. Outside the window lay a quintessential European countryside: clean, quiet, even a bit monotonous. Compared to the hustle and bustle of Beijing, this place felt like another dimension.

About an hour later, the scenery began to change. Huge, rusted steel structures, towering chimneys, abandoned railroad tracks, and factory buildings appeared. They stood silently amidst the greenery, a majestic sense of decay frozen in time. This was where I would be working and living for the next few months—a former industrial heartland, now an artistic enclave.

The car pulled up in front of a massive building, a former factory. Red brick walls, a massive metal door, and tall windows. Standing in the doorway was a middle-aged woman in overalls, her hair neatly pulled back. It was Maria, the project's art director and head of technical support.

Her handshake was firm, her eyes were sharp and direct. She quickly looked me over and said in fluent English, "Welcome. Your studio is on the second floor, the one with the best lighting. Settle in, rest, and adjust to the time difference first. We will discuss the creative plan in detail tomorrow." She spoke quickly, without any unnecessary greetings, and her direction was clear.

The studio is enormous, with strikingly high ceilings. It retains the rugged structure of an industrial building, yet is equipped with professional lighting and ventilation systems. One wall is almost entirely made of glass, overlooking a massive, decommissioned blast furnace. In the evening light, it assumes a silent yet powerful presence.

I stood alone in the empty studio, my suitcase in the middle and my paintings against the wall. The vastness of the space contrasted with my insignificance, and a strong sense of loneliness and excitement came over me at the same time.

My phone connected to the local network, and a series of message notifications began to ring. Most of them were project-related welcome emails and notes. There were also routine emails from Assistant Lin confirming my arrival, and a voice message from my mother, asking if I was safe.

I replied one by one.

Then, I opened Chen Hui's chat. The last time we'd spoken was before boarding the plane. I took a photo of the massive blast furnace outside my studio window and sent it.

"We're here. The studio is huge, and the view outside the window is... pretty hardcore."

Unexpectedly, she replied a few minutes later. Usually, she wouldn't reply so quickly due to the time difference there.

"Very efficient. The environment matches the project description. Have you started thinking about it?"

I was considering how to respond when her next message came in. The tone seemed slightly different from her usual academic discussions, with a rare, almost helpless tone of complaint.

"Also, there's something else. Do you remember that girl Zhou Yu, who was in the same grade but different class as me? I heard we met once in high school, and then we ran into each other at an industry forum. She's been trying to contact me ever since? Li Wei. I don't know where she heard I knew you, and she's been asking about you, asking very...detailed questions. It's been going on for a while."

I looked at the screen, stunned.

Li Wei? The name, like a long-buried pebble, suddenly washed back to shore by the current, carries with it a vague yet tangible chill. I try to salvage it from my memory. Back in high school, in the class next door... there seemed to be such a person. My impression is very vague, with only a rough outline remaining—good grades, seemingly a student leader, and the occasional outstanding speaker at grade assemblies. She was the typical person, like Zhou Yu, living under the aura of "other people's children." A brief encounter? I have no recollection.

How did she find Chen Hui? And why did she come to ask about me?

An extremely strange feeling welled up in my heart. After high school graduation, her and my life paths should have been parallel, never to intersect again. Zhou Yu's departure had created an unfathomable chasm between us. Her "inquiries" now felt like an inappropriate prying, carrying a certain unpleasant affront.

I frowned and replied to Chen Hui: "Li Wei... I have some impression of her. What did she ask about me?"

Chen Hui's reply was swift, with her characteristic calm and sarcasm: "It was nothing more than standard phrases like 'How are you?' 'What are you doing now?' 'Is there anything I can help you with?' But the depth and frequency of her inquiries went beyond the realm of normal social concern. Her tone was just right, showing concern without going too far, which was very consistent with her usual 'excellent' style. Do you need me to refuse for you? I'm very good at that."

I can almost imagine Chen Hui typing these words with an expressionless face, and the sharp words that might have been hidden behind her words "I'm good at this" that would have made the other person feel embarrassed.

"Thank you, but not for now," I replied, temporarily suppressing the strange feeling in my heart. "Let's see what she wants to do first. Is it convenient for you? Will it disturb you too much?"

"No impact." Chen Hui replied simply, "I just felt it necessary to inform you. Her behavior is beyond my normal understanding. Stay alert."

"Understood. Thank you."

After concluding my conversation with Chen Hui, I put down my phone and looked around this vast, unfamiliar, foreign studio. Outside the window, the silent silhouette of the giant blast furnace against the gradually darkening sky seemed ever more massive and oppressive.

Li Wei's sudden appearance was like a pebble dropped into a calm lake. Though the ripples were subtle, they clearly disturbed my newly arrived state. Like an invisible thread, she tried to reconnect me with the past I'd temporarily distanced myself from, and the feeling was unpleasant.

But I didn't let the emotion spread. I tipped my suitcase over and began unpacking, taking out my paints and supplies one by one, creating a familiar, workable corner for myself in this unfamiliar space. My movements were mechanical and focused, like a ritual to calm my mind and spirit.

A huge easel was erected, and Structure No. 1 and No. 2 were temporarily placed against the wall, like two silent guardians. A workbench was placed by the window, offering a spectacular view of the blast furnace.

After packing, exhaustion finally set in. My first night of jet lag, I slept poorly. My dream was filled with bizarre images: abandoned factories, blurry high school corridors, Chen Hui's calm face, and the figure of someone whose face I couldn't quite place, but who I felt was Li Wei.

The next morning, I was awakened by the loud chirping of birds outside my window. The exotic sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting bright spots of light on the floor.

Maria knocked on my studio door on time, bringing a cup of strong black coffee and a thick file of project materials. "How do you feel?" she asked directly, without any greetings.

“Still getting used to it.” I took the coffee, grateful for its heat and bitterness.

"Very good. The adaptation period is also part of the creation process." She nodded and quickly flipped through the materials. "I've read your project proposal. The exploration of 'industrial relics and internal reconstruction' is very interesting. The space, history, and materials here can all be used by you. If you need any equipment or technical support, just list it to me."

She took me on a swift tour of the art center's vast workshop area—metalworking, woodworking, 3D printing, even a small foundry. The level of professionalism was astonishing.

"This is a playground," Maria said, patting a giant lathe. "Don't be afraid to get it dirty. An artist's only job here is to create trouble."

Her words were filled with a kind of encouraging provocation, and I felt a long-lost urge to get started right away.

That afternoon, I spent my afternoon alone in the art center's vast library, researching local industrial history. Thick archives and black-and-white photographs documented the roar of steel and the lives of countless workers. This sense of grandeur, a once-powerful history now ruthlessly lost to time, resonated strangely with parts of my own experience.

Armed with a pile of materials and a sketchbook, I returned to my studio and began sketching. No longer based on memory or personal emotions, I began responding to this new, powerful environment. My lines subconsciously became bolder and more assertive.

My phone vibrated. It was Chen Hui.

"Li Wei is here again. This time she asked more specific questions, including whether you're still painting, your mental state, and whether you're having financial difficulties. I gave you a very general answer, as you requested. But she didn't seem satisfied."

My pen paused. The unpleasant feeling of being spied on rose again. What was she trying to do? A kind of almost paranoid "concern"? Or some other... motive I couldn't fathom?

"Got it. Thanks for your hard work," I replied, trying not to let my emotions show through my text. "Next time she asks, just tell her I'm fine and appreciate your concern, but she doesn't need any special attention."

"Understood." Chen Hui replied, "Focus on your business. I'll handle this."

Putting down my phone, I walked to the window and looked at the silent blast furnace. The setting sun gilded its rusty red shell with a layer of gold, which was tragic and beautiful.

Li Wei's interruption was like a discordant noise in the background. But here, in front of this vast industrial landscape imbued with historical power, her cautious inquiries seemed so insignificant, even a little ridiculous.

I took a deep breath and exhaled the unhappiness.

Turn around and go back to the drawing board.

The steel, history, and space here are what I need to respond to and communicate with with all my strength.

As for those vague glimpses from the past...

Just let it stay in the distant background.