Chapter 38
The morning breeze from the Bosphorus Strait carries the coolness of sea salt and old stone. At the end of the narrow streets, the silhouette of the minaret cuts through a round of light golden sunlight.
The shouts of unknown vendors could be heard in the distance, and the air was filled with the sweet aroma of coffee, goat cheese and fresh figs.
Tang Yuchuan stood on a high step, looking at the layered roofs and ancient domes in the distance, with a moment of contemplation in his eyes. He stretched out his hand to signal Zou Ping to come closer, pointing to a weathered mosque on the opposite bank.
"Look, the arrangement of those domes seems to be telling a rhythm. The architecture itself also has the rhythm of time." His voice was low and slow, with a hint of almost private tenderness.
Zou Ping narrowed her eyes and looked in his direction. Sunlight danced on the blue tiles, and she suddenly felt that those hard lines were no longer just lines, but poems polished by wind and time.
"If I compare this city to an oil painting," she whispered, "the background is the sea breeze, the foreground is rocks and dust, the flowing light and shadow are the brushstrokes, and the old and new colors are pieced together in a strange harmony."
Tang Yuchuan turned to look at her, his eyes softening slightly: "Do you like it here?"
Zou Ping nodded, her eyes shining. "I like it. Every brick here seems to have a story. Their silence is more sincere than words."
They walked side by side through a graffiti-covered alley, and in the distance a street performer was playing a long melody on his violin.
Tang Yuchuan casually asked, "When you paint, do you think about what you want to express? Or does everything just happen naturally?"
Zou Ping smiled, her fingertips tracing across a mottled wall. "Not always. Most of the time, it's just... a conversation with the world, a conversation with myself. What about you? When you make a decision, do you ever think about what you're leaving behind for the world?"
Tang Yuchuan chuckled, but a dark light flashed in his eyes: "Sometimes."
They looked at each other, and no one spoke.
The wind surged up from the sea, carrying with it the dust, light and shadow of the city for thousands of years, as well as their brief but fiery moment, like an unfinished oil painting, the color blocks have not been fully filled in, but it is already moving.
The doorbell of the cafe rang softly, and a breeze blew in, carrying with it the moisture of the sea and the aroma of the bakery on the corner.
The wooden chairs made a slight friction sound on the stone floor, and they found a seat by the window and sat down.
Zou Ping casually threw her scarf over the back of a chair and gazed out the window at the dome, darkened by time, and smiled. "How did you, someone who loves art so much, end up making cars? I've been curious since I saw an interview with you in a magazine."
"Interview?" Tang Yuchuan was a little surprised. He did accept interviews frequently during a period of time. At that time, Jingchuan had just emerged in the industry, and he also participated in some activities to do publicity.
But...that's just some thoughts.
At that time, she probably hadn't even started college yet.
"Yeah, the interview. Back then, I always thought that art galleries, theaters, and new energy vehicles were two completely different things, completely unrelated. I also thought that entrepreneurs like you only saw numbers, but when you talked about paintings in the interview, you were so knowledgeable. After one segment ended, you were talking about data reports in the next segment, as if you were a different person."
Tang Yuchuan looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he had never considered this question before. "I like both. When I'm making products, I often rely on numbers to judge the future. But some decisions also rely on... well, intuition." He paused, his gaze falling out the window. "It's like when you paint a picture, no one can explain why it's in that position."
Zou Ping picked up the spoon and stirred the coffee. She smiled softly, "You mean, sometimes the big decisions you make are just... because they feel right?"
"Almost." He smiled helplessly. "Isn't it the same when you paint? No one can tell you in advance whether this stroke will make the picture come alive."
She thought for a moment and nodded. "Sometimes, I don't even understand what I'm painting. But once the colors start to fall, it's like the answers come uninvited."
"Perhaps we are all doing the same thing, understanding the world and communicating with it in different ways." After a brief silence, Tang Yuchuan suddenly spoke, "Or perhaps, most people are like this. Painting and data are just a window, an eye, a perspective that allows us to see a different world."
"Yes, but I often feel that I am very limited. It seems that I can't do anything except painting." Zou Ping suddenly felt a little depressed. Painting has given her a lot, but people are always unsatisfied, and she often wants more.
If only... I knew something else, that would be great. This thought wasn't the first time it had crossed Zou Ping's mind.
But she seems to have loved painting since she was a child, it's innate.
Putting aside her background, she grew up in a small county town. There were not many people who started painting in that place, but she learned it all the way. People said she was talented, and she also liked it.
It’s already good enough, but she still thinks, what else can I do besides painting?
Looking at Tang Yuchuan in front of me, it would be a lie to say that I am not envious. He seems to know everything. He has many pairs of eyes and can see the world from different perspectives.
That’s great.
"Although I first got to know you as a painter, you know a lot more, such as boxing." Tang Yuchuan's tone was full of encouragement and appreciation.
Zou Ping looked back, trying to read comfort from his eyes and expression, but there was none, only appreciation and encouragement.
She suddenly felt confused. "It's just a hobby to vent my emotions. I'm not that good at it."
Tang Yuchuan felt Zou Ping's depression.
He gently put down his coffee cup and tapped the table with his fingertips, as if organizing his thoughts. He said in a steady tone, "Please don't underestimate yourself, okay? Painting is just a hobby for me. Don't think I'm so professional just because of a little interview."
Zou Ping was stunned for a moment and pursed her lips subconsciously.
Although no one is perfect, for some reason, when facing Tang Yuchuan, she always instinctively felt that he was omnipotent and could hardly imagine that he also had an ordinary side. But this sentence made her suddenly feel that the two of them were on the same line and were both ordinary people.
She seemed to see a kind of calmness in Tang Yuchuan, and then she realized that no matter what their status, wealth, or ability, people are just shells with seven emotions and six desires intertwined.
No matter how noble a person is, he is still just a person; no matter how humble a person is, he is still a person. The difference is never as great as imagined.
"I never thought about how professional I should be when I decided not to take painting as my lifelong career." Tang Yuchuan's voice was gentle, but a little serious, as if he really wanted to correct her thoughts, which was rare for him.
He paused slightly, tapping the rim of the cup with his fingers, calmly speaking, "Life is short, the world is vast, and no one can master everything. All we can really do is focus on one or two things, find our own value, understand ourselves, and appreciate the world."
Zou Ping lowered her head and drew a shallow circle on the edge of the coffee cup with her fingertips.
A warm feeling surged in her heart, and his words gave her a subtle sense of security.
Tang Yuchuan's gaze casually fell out the window, pointing to the gently undulating sea in the distance and the small island in the morning mist. His voice was as light as the wind: "If it were a painting, would anyone paint it like this?"
Zou Ping looked in the direction of his hand and narrowed her eyes slightly: "No way... that's too casual."
"So now it's not a painting, it's just an island. Is it perfect?" Tang Yuchuan continued to ask.
Zou Ping narrowed her eyes. She wanted to think seriously, but blurted out, "Not perfect, but... very touching."
The moment she said it, Zou Ping seemed to understand why Tang Yuchuan used the word perfect.
She lowered her head and looked at the coffee cup beside her. Her heart felt like ripples were gently stirred up. She couldn't help but think: Why was her first reaction "No one would draw like this"?
Perhaps it is because the lines must be precise, the colors must be balanced, and the structure must be complete that a painting is considered beautiful. This set of standards for evaluating paintings is somewhat deeply rooted in her mind. Or perhaps, in her subconscious, she is unconsciously equating perfection with control and chance with failure?
She frowned slightly and began to think about whether she was often stuck in a rut or too dogmatic in her approach to painting and life.
"What are you thinking about?" Tang Yuchuan obviously noticed the conflict in her heart. He gently pulled her arm and asked her to look out the window. "Socrates said that the unexamined life is not worth living. But I don't think you need to live like Socrates."
He seemed to realize that his tone was a bit serious, so he adjusted it to be more relaxed, "I don't think you are interested in this either."
Seeing that Zou Ping's expression had relaxed a little, he didn't say anything more, but just gestured to appreciate the scenery outside the window.
Looking at the undulating sea and scattered islands in the morning mist, Zou Ping instantly understood Tang Yuchuan's intention.
The world never presents itself according to any preconceived notion; it cares for no so-called rules, nor does it exist to conform to standards. The freely undulating surface of the sea, where light and shadow flow gently, is neither deliberate nor incomplete, yet more moving than any carefully arranged painting.
This is the power of nature.
Perfection is sometimes nothing more than an obsession, while the beauty of life is often hidden in those unplanned and unexpected gaps.
She was still daydreaming.
Just when Zou Ping was about to subconsciously fall into the tug of war in her thoughts again.
Tang Yuchuan spoke again, "You still can't control your thoughts. That's normal, because that's you. You're unique, you're thoughtful, our little Socrates."
What a shocking name! Zou Ping secretly complained, but she had to admit that Tang Yuchuan's words did pull her out of the whirlpool of emotions.
"Don't call me that, eh!" Zou Ping curled her lips, her tone filled with a hint of helplessness and a bit of amusement. "Little Socrates" is really a bit old-fashioned, like a dubbed film from the last century."
"Okay, stop letting your imagination run wild and start to dislike me for being old, right?" Tang Yuchuan's eyes fell lightly on her, he raised his eyebrows slightly, with a slight smile on the corner of his mouth.
"If you calculate carefully, you are indeed much older than me..." Zou Ping said while stealing a glance at Tang Yuchuan's expression.
But Tang Yuchuan was as calm as ever, and Zou Ping felt a little disappointed.
All I could hear was Tang Yuchuan's gentle voice, "I know that you're the one who's at a disadvantage by being with me. Since you've chosen me and we're together, I will..."
Zou Ping didn't let Tang Yuchuan finish his words and kissed him gently.
I kind of regretted my random joke.
"You've been very good to me! No need to be better!" Zou Ping knew that Tang Yuchuan had not finished speaking, but she did not let him continue.
"I feel like I've gotten a huge advantage by being with you!" She sincerely felt that it didn't make sense that she had liked him first. At that time, he had rejected her because of her age. After they were together, this became a burden for him to consider.
"That's not what I meant just now. I like you." Zou Ping finished her words, picked up her coffee cup and drank it all in one gulp. "Let's go to the market."
She was about to get up, but Tang Yuchuan grabbed her, gently kissed the corner of her lips, and then gently let her go.
Zou Ping's eyes widened, but she still felt it was a little unreal. "What do you mean?"
Maybe she felt that Tang Yuchuan was not someone who would initiate a kiss.
"There's coffee at the corner of your mouth." Tang Yuchuan said in a serious tone.
For a moment, Zou Ping was almost convinced by this outrageous statement.
"What?" Zou Ping persisted, she kept asking, wanting to hear the answer she wanted.
"I like it." Tang Yuchuan said these two words, then stood up and walked out of the cafe.
Zou Ping's mood seemed to be brightened in an instant. She trotted after him, moving back and forth on Tang Yuchuan's left and right, pestering him to say it again.
Tang Yuchuan watched her jumping around him, his eyes softening slightly.
Her small movements and light leaps, with a light power, made him feel warm inside, like ripples on the sea stirred by the morning breeze, gently swaying but not to be ignored.
He didn't say anything, just watched quietly, noticing the light between her eyebrows and eyes, the kind of vitality that inadvertently emanated from her, which made his chest feel a little warm. It wasn't panic, nor was it excitement, but a wonderful sense of flow, like the liquid gently swaying in a coffee cup, stirred by her, yet soft and real.
Tang Yuchuan stretched out his hand to touch her shoulder gently, but his hand stopped in mid-air and then he withdrew it.
Just for a moment, he felt attracted, but he didn't need to say it.
At this moment, Zou Ping was just around him, light, soft, and hot, but not ostentatious. He tried to describe it.
The curve of his mouth corners under his eyes was a smile that he revealed unconsciously.
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