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The studio was filled with the smell of turpentine and sunshine.
Lin Ruoyin curled up on the sofa, with a thick book titled "A Collection of Award-Winning Works from the National Youth Art Competition Over the Past Ten Years" spread out on her lap.
She looked through the paintings for a long time before finally looking up at her boyfriend, who was revising a sketch of a wasteland in front of his easel.
“Xu Jia,” she said, closing the book with a cautious tone, “I have studied the winning works from the last five editions, especially the oil paintings.”
"Hmm?" Xu Jia responded, his brush still on, his gaze still focused on the foxtail grass struggling to reach the sun on the canvas.
"In terms of subject matter, portraits or scenes with a grand narrative and a sense of the times have a very high probability of winning awards." Lin Ruoyin sat up straight and became serious. "Like the landscape sketches you are painting now, they are more personal and focus on the feeling of the moment. There has been no precedent for winning awards in previous years."
Xu Jia finally put down his pen.
He wiped his hands with a cloth, didn't respond immediately, but walked to the floor in front of her and sat down, leaning against the sofa leg. The afternoon light gilded his profile with a fuzzy golden edge, and he frowned slightly, carefully considering every word she had said.
"So?" he asked, his voice soft and patiently listening.
Lin Ruoyin moved closer to him: "What I mean is, if you want to continue participating in the competition, could you adjust your direction? Paint some works that are more in line with the competition? For example, the portrait you painted that won the award last time was more in line with the mainstream."
Xu Jia was silent for a few seconds, his gaze falling on her eyes as she earnestly analyzed his situation. He gently rubbed her cheek with his fingertips, a tender gesture.
“However, winning awards is not the starting point for my creation. If I calculate how to be more easily recognized, or in other words, more easily monetized, before the brush touches the canvas, then what I paint is a betrayal of myself.”
Lin Ruoyin was slightly taken aback.
He turned his head and looked at the unfinished weeds on the easel: "At this moment, I hold a paintbrush in my hand, and all I want to paint is this patch of grass. I want to paint how it bends when the wind comes, how it dims when the light goes. Maybe painting these things isn't enough... has enough value? But I want to spend my time painting these things, this is the truest voice in my heart."
"I'm sorry." Lin Ruoyin reached out and hugged Xu Jia from behind, burying her face in his shoulder. "I shouldn't have used those standards to judge your paintings."
Feeling the listless tone and dependent posture of the person in his arms, Xu Jia chuckled softly. He would never really be angry with her.
Xu Jia turned around, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into his embrace, gently patting her back with one hand.
He lowered his head, his lips almost touching her earlobe, his warm breath brushing against her. "I know you're doing this for my own good."
His voice was so gentle, his actions so indulgent, that Lin Ruoyin's slight guilt fermented into an even softer attachment. She snuggled against his shoulder, like a little animal seeking comfort, her voice unconsciously soft and nasal: "Don't be angry with me."
"Why would I be angry? I'm more afraid you'll be angry with me."
"Why?"
"I was afraid you'd be disappointed." He stepped back slightly so he could see her eyes clearly. "I was afraid you'd think I was... stubborn."
His frank expression of his unease melted Lin Ruoyin's heart instantly. She raised her hand, cupped his face, and looked at him earnestly: "No, not at all. That's what I love most about you. It's not stubbornness, it's having your own attitude, and it's especially cool."
Xu Jia's lips curled into a smile as she amused him.
The sunlight was warm and inviting, and his embrace felt comforting and intoxicating. Lin Ruoyin looked at his lips, so close to hers, adorned with a gentle smile, and a thought stirred within her. Her initial guilt and coquettishness quietly transformed into the courage to want to get even closer.
Her eyelashes fluttered, and suddenly she leaned in and quickly kissed the corner of his lips. It was very light, like a butterfly skimming the water, a fleeting touch.
After the kiss, she froze, her cheeks instantly turning bright red. Her eyes darted around, not daring to look at him, and she tried to pull her hands away from his face as soon as she let go of them.
Xu Jia reacted even faster than her.
The moment her lips left hers, his eyes darkened, and the hand that had been gently patting her back tightened abruptly, fixing her body in place as she tried to escape. His other hand supported the back of her head, giving her no room to retreat.
"What happened?" he asked in a low voice, a few decibels hoarse from before, tinged with obvious amusement and something deeper. "Trying to run away after the kiss?"
Before Lin Ruoyin could answer, he lowered his head and captured her lips.
It was no longer that awkward touch from before.
This was a real kiss.
Lin Ruoyin's mind went blank for a moment, only feeling the warmth and softness of his lips, his pleasant scent enveloping her, and his hands, firm yet gentle, supporting the back of her head and waist. She froze at first, then slowly relaxed and began to respond, her fingers unconsciously tightening their grip on the side of his shirt.
The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the fine dust particles dancing in the air and bathing the two lovers in a dreamy golden glow. The studio was utterly quiet, save for their intertwined breaths and the increasingly loud thumping of their hearts—whose heartbeats were unknown.
After what seemed like an eternity, Xu Jia finally pulled back slightly, his forehead pressed against hers, his breathing still a little unsteady. He looked at her so close, her cheeks flushed, her eyelashes drooping wetly, her lips appearing exceptionally red and full from the kiss, a look of innocent yet alluring beauty.
He couldn't resist lowering his head again and lightly pecking her swollen lips, his voice muffled but satisfied: "You're so soft."
Lin Ruoyin couldn't speak, she just buried her burning face back in his neck and hugged him even tighter.
Xu Jia pulled her closer, encircling her completely in his arms, and rested his chin gently on the top of her head. The sunlight quietly enveloped them, and the air was filled with a sweet and warm atmosphere, a blend of paint, sunshine, and love.
...
Before they knew it, it was Lin Ruoyin's birthday, and Xu Jia gave her a small velvet box.
Open it, and inside is a hand-polished silver necklace. The design is extremely simple, a soft, unclosed curve, with a tiny but perfectly cut moonstone set at the end of the line, like a dewdrop about to fall, shimmering with a hazy luster under the light.
"This is...?" Lin Ruoyin carefully picked it up. The cool silver against her palm allowed her to immediately feel the exquisite texture of the hand-carved lines.
"I made it myself." Xu Jia's ears were slightly red, almost imperceptibly. "I know it's a bit ugly..."
"You call this ugly?" Lin Ruoyin looked at Xu Jia with a smile and said seriously, "Look at the treatment of these concave lines and the tension of these curves. Are you trying to steal my job?"
As Xu Jia looked at the light shining in her eyes, the nervousness he felt when giving a girl a gift for the first time gradually melted away.
“Moonstone can protect your original aspirations. This line is not closed,” he said, extending his finger and lightly tracing the smooth silver line. “I hope your design journey, and... ours, will continue to extend forward like this line.”
Seeing Xu Jia earnestly explaining his design ideals, she couldn't hold back any longer and threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Thank you for the gift, I love it so much." Lin Ruoyin pressed her cheek against his chest, her face beaming with happiness. "I love it too, I love you so much."
Sensing her undisguised joy and affection, Xu Jia tightened his arms, hugging her back firmly, his chin gently resting on the top of her head, his voice full of satisfaction and tenderness, "I'm glad you like it."
Shortly after Lin Ruoyin's birthday, on an ordinary weekend, she went home for dinner.
The Lin family mansion was located in a quiet old neighborhood of the city, exuding a timeless elegance. The atmosphere at dinner was relaxed and pleasant. Lin Ruomeng, the younger sister, asked Lin Ruoyin about interesting things that happened in college, and chattered on about her favorite idol.
After dinner, Lin Ruoyin sat on the living room sofa, casually picking up a picture book to flip through. Lin Zhenbang, holding a teacup, sat down on the single sofa opposite her, his gaze fixed on his daughter with his usual gentleness and scrutiny.
"How's school lately?" Lin Zhenbang asked casually.
"It's great, all the projects this semester are quite interesting." Lin Ruoyin replied with a smile, in a good mood. She turned slightly to reach for a water glass on the coffee table, a glint of silver light on her neck swaying gently with the movement.
Lin Zhenbang's gaze inadvertently lingered on that gleam.
Under the light, a simple silver chain hugged the daughter's slender neck, the pendant a soft, unclosed curve, with a small moonstone set at the end.
Lin Zhenbang's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. As an industrialist who ran a chain of high-end shopping malls, he had seen far too many luxury jewelry pieces. The necklace around his daughter's neck, while stylish, clearly showed signs of being hand-polished, and the silver was not top-quality; the moonstone was so small it was almost shabby.
This doesn't seem like something she would buy and wear herself.
Lin Zhenbang took a sip of tea, his tone still casual, but his gaze never left him. "I've never seen you wear this style of jewelry before."
Lin Ruoyin subconsciously lowered her eyes to look at the pendant around her neck.
"A birthday present, a gift from a friend."
Lin Zhenbang's gaze calmly fell on his daughter's neck, the warm silver light highlighting her porcelain-white skin and making her seem somewhat out of place in this home. He put down his teacup, the porcelain clinking against the wooden coffee table with a soft yet distinct sound.
"Your friend made it themselves?"
"Yes, there's only one in the whole world."
Lin Zhenbang raised an eyebrow as he looked at his daughter's adoring expression.
"The sentiment is quite special," he said slowly, then changed the subject, "but it looks a bit plain on you. Are you tired of the diamond jewelry your father gave you?"
"Oh dear, how am I supposed to wear those to class?"
Lin Zhenbang tapped his fingers lightly on the sofa armrest twice, then suddenly asked, "Your boyfriend gave it to you?"
The air seemed to freeze for a moment. In another corner of the living room, Lin Ruomeng, the younger sister who was watching a variety show, also quietly pricked up her ears.
Lin Ruoyin felt her cheeks flush and her heart race. She looked up at her father; his deep eyes held a gentle inquiry, yet also an unmistakable sharpness befitting a businessman. She knew she couldn't hide it, nor did she want to. Xu Jia was someone she genuinely liked; there was nothing shameful about it.
Lin Ruoyin nodded, her voice soft but clear: "Yes."
Lin Zhenbang's face showed a knowing look of "I knew it," but his expression remained gentle, even with a hint of a smile: "When did you meet? I've never heard you mention it before?"
"We've only been together for a short time."
"Are you a classmate?"
"Yes, he's in the oil painting department."
Lin Zhenbang pondered for a moment, "An art student. No wonder, her aesthetic sense is on point." He smiled, like an ordinary father concerned about his daughter's love life, "When are you bringing her home so Dad can meet her?"
Lin Ruoyin's eyes lit up. Her father's attitude was more open-minded than she had expected. She immediately nodded, "Okay."
Looking at the undisguised light in her eyes, Lin Zhenbang's smile deepened, becoming more complex.
"Okay, then you arrange the time. Dad also wants to see what kind of boy could make our proud young lady like him so much."
The meeting is scheduled for next weekend.
The location was the Lin family mansion. Xu Jia knew that Lin Ruoyin came from a wealthy family, but when he actually stepped into this mansion located in a quiet old neighborhood of the city, with its own garden and wrought iron carved gate, he could still clearly feel an invisible chasm.
The air is filled with the scent of carefully tended plants.
He was wearing a white shirt and dark trousers, carrying a tea gift box. Lin Ruoyin was waiting for him at the door early in the morning. When she saw him, her eyes crinkled, and she quickly ran over to take his hand.
Lin Zhenbang received them in his study.
The study was large, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on two walls and a floor-to-ceiling window on the other, overlooking a meticulously manicured lawn. The air was filled with the calming scent of cigars and old books. Lin Zhenbang, sitting behind a large desk, rose to greet them as they entered, his face bearing a perfectly appropriate smile of an elder.
"Uncle, I'm Xu Jia." Xu Jia bowed slightly and handed over the gift box. "It's just a small token of my appreciation."
"You're too kind, Xu." Lin Zhenbang took the gift and casually placed it aside. His gaze swept over Xu Jia's entire body without leaving a trace, from his clean clothes to his young, handsome face with a distinctly aloof air of an art student.
"Please sit down. Ruoyin, go and ask Auntie to make some tea."
Lin Ruoyin glanced at Xu Jia, then went out with some concern.
Only the two of them remained in the study.
Lin Zhenbang sat down on the single sofa and gestured for Xu Jia to sit opposite him. The atmosphere became somewhat quiet for a moment.
"Ruoyin said you're in the oil painting department?" Lin Zhenbang spoke first, his tone calm, as if it were a casual greeting.
“Yes, Uncle,” Xu Jia replied, his back straight and his gaze calm.
Lin Zhenbang nodded. "What are your future plans? Do you intend to pursue further studies, or become a professional painter?"
"My current plan is to continue creating and accumulating works," Xu Jia replied humbly, demonstrating a clear understanding of his profession. "If possible, I hope to have the opportunity to hold a solo exhibition in the future."
“Solo exhibitions…” Lin Zhenbang repeated, tapping his finger lightly on the sofa armrest. “This path is not easy. In the domestic oil painting market, unless you are one of the top few, the space for survival is very limited.”
Xu Jia replied sincerely, "I will try my best."
“It’s good to work hard.” Lin Zhenbang’s tone was emotionless. He placed his hands on his knees, his gaze like a whirlpool hidden beneath a calm lake. “But the path of art is full of uncertainties. Van Gogh only sold one painting during his lifetime. Ideals are beautiful, but reality is harsh.”
He paused briefly, seemingly observing Xu Jia's reaction, then changed the subject, his tone becoming warm and guiding, "However, ultimately, one must walk the path to achieve it. I know some collectors and friends in auction houses. If you'd like, I can help you make introductions. If your paintings can be displayed through suitable channels, they might find buyers who appreciate them."
When he said this, Lin Zhenbang displayed the kind of benevolent attitude of an elder mentoring a younger generation.
Xu Jia remained silent for a moment. He understood the implication in Lin Zhenbang's words: accept help, move towards commercialization, and embark on a more stable path.
This is a shortcut that many people dream of.
“Thank you for your kindness, Uncle.” Xu Jia raised his eyes, his gaze clear and firm, without hesitation or any flicker of temptation. “However, my initial intention in creating art was not to monetize it as quickly as possible. I understand that the market and commercial operations are part of the art ecosystem, but at this stage, I want to focus more on the work itself. I hope that my paintings are valued first and foremost because they express my true thoughts and feelings, because they have value in artistic exploration, rather than because they meet certain market expectations or sales channels.”
Seeing Lin Zhenbang's expression change, Xu Jia paused, his voice low but clear: "I know this may sound a bit too idealistic. But I think that if creators start by thinking too much about how to cater to the market, how to be seen and bought faster, they may lose the core motivation of free expression in art. I still want to continue along the path I believe in."
A brief silence fell over the study.
The warm expression on Lin Zhenbang's face slowly receded like the tide.
He leaned back on the sofa, and when his gaze fell on Xu Jia again, the warmth inside had vanished, leaving only a cold, hard scrutiny.
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