Joint Exhibition and the Shadow of Homecoming
【Crescent Moon Cottage in Beijing】
Back in Beijing, Hu Li formally accepted the invitation from a local gallery for a joint exhibition and began preparations for the November opening. In her studio, canvases, paints, wooden frames, and framing samples were piled high, paper labels of various sizes covered the floor, and freshly dried color test pieces hung to dry against the walls. She spent almost several days without leaving the studio, not only revising old works but also painting three new pieces—her brushstrokes more sharp yet restrained than before, capturing the light and stillness brought back from Provence within the colors. Simultaneously, she meticulously checked the list of exhibited works, measured and recorded the dimensions, and labeled each piece with a number and shipping notes, maintaining a tight yet orderly pace.
At night, Mu Tianlang would come over and bring her a late-night snack. He would always stand at the door and watch her for a moment before calling her softly, "Fox." She would often be covered in paint, leaning against the easel, looking up and teasing him with a smile, "Mr. Wolf, be careful not to step in the paint, or your suit will be ruined."
He frowned, took off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, then walked over and bent down to wipe the paint off her cheek. "You were so engrossed in painting that you didn't even notice yourself?" His tone was cold and hard, but his movements were unusually gentle. She looked up and blinked. "It's enough that you're here to take care of me."
His eyes darkened, and he said softly, "Remember, stop when you're tired." He then lowered his head and tapped her forehead, as if leaving a mark. His fingertips gripped her wrist, and he lowered the hand that had been holding the pen from hers. "That's enough for today."
She pouted defiantly and protested softly, "The inspiration has only just begun."
He pushed the boxed late-night snack in front of her: "Inspiration can wait, but your body can't. There's a lot going on at the company lately, so I might not be able to take care of you. Eat on time and go to sleep when you should."
She raised an eyebrow: "A commanding tone?"
He changed his tone in a deep voice, suppressing his forcefulness: "Please, eat on time and rest on time." As he spoke, he took her phone and set an alarm for 11:30 for her, "Stop and rest when that time comes."
She chuckled and leaned over to gently rub his chin: "Then you shouldn't stay up late either."
He hummed in agreement, pulled her into his arms, and gently stroked her back with his palm: "I will keep an eye on myself, and I will keep an eye on you."
She leaned against his shoulder and whispered, "If only it could always be like this."
He lowered his head and kissed the top of her head, his voice extremely low: "Yes."
Suddenly, an idea struck her. She pulled out a small, polished wooden board from the sideboard, looked up at him with a smile, and said, "Shouldn't our little home have a name?"
He raised an eyebrow: "It's your decision."
She dipped her brush in white acrylic paint and wrote three characters on the wooden board—Crescent Moon Abode. The last stroke ended with a playful little tail, like the shadow of a fox in flight; next to it, she sketched a delicate crescent moon and a minimalist door frame, like a signpost for her home.
She held up the wooden board for him to see: "Shall we hang it in the entryway?"
Mu Tianlang stared at the three characters, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. "Very good." He took the wooden board, his fingertips slowly tracing the strokes, his voice low and husky. "Having seen this crescent moon, you know it's time to go home."
He immediately picked up his tools and personally checked the level on the entryway wall, drilled holes, and hung the sign securely. She watched from the side, her eyes shining, and couldn't help but chuckle softly, "Wolves know how to dig burrows and build their dens."
He turned back, his eyes softening slightly: "For the fox."
[Hu Li's Hometown in Beijing]
With the exhibition preparations complete, Hu Li returned to her hometown. It was a forty-minute drive from Beijing, but she had avoided going home as much as possible since university. The air in the house was heavy; her mother remained sensitive and suspicious. Within seconds of meeting, a barrage of accusations rained down.
"Your father ran off with his mistress, and now even you're disobeying him! Didn't I tell you to find a way to get close to Mu Tianlang? Now you've succeeded, but that's not enough. Go see his mother first thing tomorrow morning, bring a gift, call ahead to arrange it, be polite and submissive when you enter, be humble when necessary, even shed a few tears, try to win her over, understand?"
Hu Li's fingertips felt cold, but he still managed a faint smile: "Mom, do you think this is funny?"
A mad light flashed in her mother's eyes, and her tone was like a knife cutting through the air: "Back in Hong Kong, if you had listened to me and done as I said, I would have achieved what I wanted long ago. The Hu family owes me, and you won't get away with it."
Her words grew increasingly urgent, her fingers even pounding heavily on the table: "Now you've gotten close to Mu Tianlang, achieving the first step I wanted, but that's not enough. You need to go further, first win over Mu's mother; that's the only way to truly gain a position."
Hu Li took a deep breath, as if trying to expel all the pent-up frustration that had been building up in her chest over the years. She looked at her mother, her eyes calm yet resolute: "Mom, I won't follow your script anymore."
After saying that, she turned and went out the door. The wind rushed into her chest, and she felt that she could breathe again. But she made a decision in her heart—she would tell Mu Tianlang the truth about her initial "intentional approach" in person; this time, she would take responsibility for her choice, instead of letting others manipulate her again.
【Crescent Moon Cottage in Beijing】
That night, she sat in her studio, the lamplight casting a soft glow on the still-wet paint. Mu Tianlang pushed open the door and, seeing her unusual expression, asked in a deep voice, "What's wrong?"
She looked up, paused for two seconds, and tentatively asked, "If there were a piece of my past that wasn't so good, and I had to tell you about it right when you're busiest, would you be angry with me?"
His gaze darkened: "Don't jump to conclusions for me. Tell me, I'm listening."
She probed softly, "If... I hadn't approached you entirely by chance, would you have felt like you'd been tricked?"
His thin lips tightened, and after a two-second silence, he raised his hand to cup her face, his fingertips tracing her jawline: "I'll be unhappy if you shoulder everything alone. As for the rest, let me decide—to me, the truth is always more valuable than silence."
Her breathing faltered, and she lowered her eyelashes: "Then I'll tell you everything after the joint exhibition ends."
He held her hand, his knuckles firm yet gentle: "Whatever it is, I'll listen to what you say yourself."
Her heart skipped a beat, but she held on to his hand and whispered, "Okay." Then she leaned against him and heard the steady beating of his heart, one beat after another, as if it were calming her anxiety.
[Opening Day of the Joint Exhibition at Beijing Art Museums]
The white walls were adorned with numerous works by Hu Li, their colors and negative space interplaying under the lighting, creating a sense of dynamic breathing. The exhibition hall was bustling with activity, as art dealers, critics, media, and collectors moved about. Hu Li, dressed in a deep blue backless gown, her bright eyes and brows gleaming, interacted with guests with poise and grace. She accepted a champagne glass, smiling as she spoke with different critics, her words concise yet imbued with her unique wit.
A European art critic praised her, saying, "I haven't seen such a nuanced female perspective in a long time. Her colors are bold yet restrained, free yet imbued with an Eastern flair."
She smiled and thanked them, but her eyes searched among the guests for that familiar figure.
There were many media present, and one reporter seized an opportunity to throw out a pointed question: "Ms. Hu, does your work this time intentionally reflect reality? There are rumors that you have someone supporting you behind the scenes; can you reveal that?"
Hu Li paused for a moment, about to speak, when the gallery owner smiled and took over for her: "The most important thing for young artists is to focus on creation. As for the source of inspiration, she has already answered everyone in her works. As for other things, we will have more public events in the future, so please be patient, media friends."
Another reporter pressed further, "Would you be willing to grant us an exclusive interview?"
The gallery owner smiled and responded tactfully, "Our schedule is tight during the joint exhibition, so interviews can be scheduled separately. We will arrange a unified contact point, so please don't worry."
These responses were neither servile nor overbearing, protecting Hu Li while simultaneously making her appear more respected in the media eye. The whispers in the crowd gradually shifted to curiosity and anticipation for her work. Someone murmured, "She has great potential."
Hu Li felt a warmth in her heart, realizing that her career was gradually progressing. She walked over to the gallery owner, holding her cup, and said in a low voice, "Thank you for helping me out of that situation."
The gallery owner chuckled. "A friend asked me beforehand to help you out a bit. But even without that, I would have done it anyway. You focus on your painting, and we'll handle everything else." She paused, then added, "If you trust me, I'll handle all media, collaborations, and external communications from now on. You just need to prioritize your art."
Hu Li looked at her and nodded, "Okay. Thank you."
The gallery owner raised his chin: "Go ahead, tonight is yours."
Hu Li, holding his cup, walked around the crowd, paused, turned back, and nodded to the gallery owner, as if putting this kindness into his pocket.
She walked to the center of the hall and stopped in front of the familiar shoulder line. Looking up, she first asked in a low voice, "The media earlier, were you the one you instructed to look after me?"
Mu Tianlang turned to the side, letting her stand between himself and the crowd, and said in a very indifferent tone, "Mm."
"Can I hand over the follow-up media and cooperation opportunities to her? Like a part-time agent. I can focus on painting, and she can handle everything else." She rested the rim of the cup on her knuckles, still tentative, but her eyes gleamed.
He looked at her for a second, then reached out and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder behind her ear: "You trust her?"
"I trust your arrangements," she replied quickly, then added, "but we should keep a low profile in public. At this crucial juncture, let's avoid causing trouble."
His Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he nodded. "Okay. Before signing, have the law firm draft the terms in detail, including the scope of authorization, external statements, and unified management of image and copyright. You only need to focus on the creative work; I'll handle everything else. But remember—stop immediately if you feel uncomfortable."
Hu Li smiled, took a step forward, and lowered his voice even further: "Yes, Mr. Mu."
He chuckled softly, his fingertips lightly touching hers: "It's not an order, I'm asking you."
She then looked up at him, as if relieved after receiving permission, and said softly, "I understand."
She followed his gaze to the boldly painted fox, her voice softening as she asked, "Do you like it?"
His eyes flickered, and his Adam's apple bobbed: "You drew this for me?"
"Mmm." She nodded, her eyes clear.
He didn't say anything more, but simply reached out and held her fingertips tightly. At that moment, the noise seemed to fade into the distance, leaving only their breaths and gazes.
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