Winter Corner Light
The art exhibition of the art festival was held smoothly.
On the day of the art festival, among the many works, the oil painting "Autumn Whispers" co-created by Jiang Yile and Gu Nanxiao, depicting the autumn scene of Wutong Avenue on campus, unexpectedly won the unanimous favor of the judges for its delicate light and shadow treatment, warm and harmonious colors, and the quiet and slightly sentimental poetry contained in the picture, and won the first prize.
In the painting, golden sycamore leaves seem to rustle in the light and shadow, and a mottled path stretches into the misty distance. It evokes both the faint melancholy of graduation season and the quiet anticipation for the future, touching the soft corners of youth and time in the hearts of many people.
This unexpected honor brought a rare collective joy and pride to the senior high school class (6) who were overwhelmed by their studies. It was also like an invisible glue that quietly brought together two hearts that had ground pigments, blended light and shadow, and shared silence under the sunset in the studio.
It was a sunny afternoon on the day of the award ceremony.
Jiang Yile stood on the slightly crude makeshift stage, holding the light yet heavy certificate in his hand, his eyes subconsciously searching among the dark crowd below the stage.
She saw Zhou Xiaowei and Zhang Hao clapping their hands vigorously and smiling with pride, and she also saw Gu Nanxiao standing behind the crowd, near the shadow of the corridor.
He still had no expression, his hands in his pockets, his posture distant, but when she looked over, he did not look away immediately, but looked at her quietly. In his dark eyes, reflected by the stage lights, there seemed to be a very faint, elusive glimmer flashing by, so fast that it seemed like an illusion.
At that moment, Jiang Yile felt her chest filled with a full and warm emotion, a mixture of a sense of accomplishment and a certain secret joy, which made her more excited than winning the award itself.
This honor has become more meaningful because of their joint participation.
The autumn in the south city is as short as a sigh that cannot be captured in time. After a few swift and cold rains, the stubborn yellow leaves remaining on the branches finally wither and fall, turning into spring mud for the next year.
Winter officially announced its rule, stepping on the wet fallen leaves and accompanied by the biting north wind. The air began to be filled with a cold and dry scent.
On Saturday morning, the sky was a clear and high blue, the kind that had been washed by the cold wind for days.
Although the sunlight was bright, it had lost the warmth of late autumn, becoming pale and cold, like a huge, cold piece of amber, sealing the entire city in a transparent and rigid silence.
The exhaled breath condensed into white mist in the air and quickly dissipated.
Jiang Yile was wearing a thick white down jacket, like a clumsy and cute little bear. She was wearing a warm yellow wool scarf hand-knitted by her mother, which made her cheeks glow with a healthy blush, fighting against the severe winter cold.
Carrying her slightly heavy easel and painting box, she arrived at the coffee shop called "Yuguang" in the west of the city half an hour early.
This is a treasure trove she discovered by chance. It is hidden in the corner of a quiet old street, with few people and quietness. The decoration is a retro industrial style mixed with the warmth of logs.
There is a huge floor-to-ceiling glass near the window, through which the winter sun can pour in without reservation, casting clear and warm spots of light on the dark wooden floor. It is an excellent spot for sketching, with stable and layered light.
She chose a spot in the corner with the best light, skillfully set up the easel, stretched the canvas prepared in advance, carefully squeezed the paint onto the palette according to the color system, and neatly arranged the turpentine, oil paint, and brushes of various sizes. Everything was prepared in an orderly manner.
The air is filled with the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the sweet, warm scent of butter and sugar wafting from the oven. The background music is a gentle, melancholic blues piano piece, creating a lazy and safe private atmosphere that is completely isolated from the cold world outside the window.
Her heart, however, was not as steady as the movements of her hands. It was filled with a clear sense of anticipation and an indescribable nervousness, like a gently plucked string. From time to time, she looked at the glass wind chimes at the door, which occasionally made crisp tinkling sounds as guests came in and out.
When the wind chimes made a crisp sound like crystal colliding again, Jiang Yile subconsciously looked up, and his heart skipped a beat, as if it was gently hit by something.
Gu Nanxiao pushed the door open and walked in, bringing in a gust of slightly cool, clean air.
He was not wearing the blue and white school uniform today. A soft dark gray turtleneck sweater was wrapped around his slender neck, which made his jaw line more clear and neat. He wore an open-necked black short down jacket on the outside and fitted dark jeans on the bottom, which made his legs straight and slender, and his posture more upright and handsome.
The black hair on his forehead seemed to have been carefully combed, but a few strands still hung down unruly, covering part of his eyebrows. However, it could not hide the several implicit admiring glances from guests in other corners that he instantly attracted when he walked in.
He stood there, his eyes quickly scanning the store, as if trying to locate it.
His eyes quickly scanned the store and almost immediately locked onto her location.
The moment their eyes met, Jiang Yile felt his heart skip a beat, as if it had been gently bumped by something.
He walked towards her with steady steps, but Jiang Yile still keenly caught the flash of nervousness or discomfort in his eyes, which weakened his usual cold and distant feeling a little, making him seem real and... even a little cute, like a teenager forced to participate in an unfamiliar social situation.
"Have you been waiting for a long time?"
He sat down across from her, his voice a little deeper than usual, his eyes sweeping over her ready easel and palette, the vibrant colors on them like a small ceremony waiting to begin.
"No, I just got here not long ago." Jiang Yile smiled with his eyes curved, trying to make his voice sound natural and casual, hiding the turmoil in his heart. "The light here is good, right? And it's very quiet."
She pointed at the bright but cold sunlight outside the window, trying to find a safe topic.
"Um."
He responded softly and turned his gaze to the window, looking at the passers-by who were hurrying along with their collars wrapped tightly, and the last few dead leaves blown by the cold wind. His profile, in the bright light, was as clear as a classical sculpture.
The soft texture of the turtleneck sweater softened the cold and hard lines of his jaw, making him look much gentler than in school, and also... better looking.
Jiang Yile quietly admitted it in his heart.
She took a deep breath and picked up the charcoal pencil. Her fingertips were slightly cold from nervousness and a little excitement. "So... shall we begin? Just do as we said yesterday. Sit down anywhere, look out the window, or just stare blankly, or... I brought a magazine. You can take a look at it, too."
She pointed to an art magazine on the seat next to him, offering him options, hoping to put him at ease.
Gu Nanxiao followed his words, leaned back into the soft sofa, and adjusted himself to a relatively relaxed posture.
He chose to look out the window, his gaze seemed unfocused, immersed in his own thoughts, or at the flowing, silent street scene outside the window framed by the window frame.
The sunlight just happened to fall on him, casting a soft glow on his dark grey sweater. He seemed to be wrapped in a warm and quiet halo, isolated from the cold reality outside the window.
This scene is exactly what Jiang Yile wanted to capture - the kind of tranquility that is free of guardedness, real, and tinged with a hint of loneliness and fragility.
The brush rustled on the canvas as the charcoal pencil first outlined the general contours - the tilt of the head, the lines of the shoulders, the slightly cold and hard but yet particularly soft curve of the side face under the light and shadow at this moment, the straight nose bridge, and the slightly pursed lips.
Then she began to adjust the colors, laying down large blocks of color. The background was the warm dark tones of the cafe, and he was the brightest and most complex subject in the picture.
At first, she was able to maintain the objectivity and calmness of a pure painter, analyzing the light and dark boundaries cast by light and shadow on his face, observing the delicate changes in the texture of his sweater under the light, and focusing on how to use colors and brushstrokes to capture the quiet and beautiful picture in front of her, like solving a complex geometry problem.
But soon, this objectivity was broken by an indescribable, surging emotion.
This was the first time she had stared at him so long, so openly, and so closely.
It is no longer a hasty glance during class breaks, no longer a businesslike discussion of paintings in the studio, no longer a tense and awkward moment walking together in the rain.
At this moment, he is her only model, the object that she is carefully depicting and feeling with all her heart.
In the air, the aroma of coffee, the scent of paint turpentine, and the very light, clean, refreshing scent of cedar mixed with a hint of citrus, subtly intertwined together, forming a private, isolated space that belonged only to the two of them.
Time seems to be stretched, and every stroke carries the rhythm of the heartbeat.
His brow bones are very high, making his eye sockets appear slightly sunken, which makes his eyes always have a deep and even melancholy feeling, as if they contain many stories.
The bridge of his nose was as straight as a mountain ridge, with sharp and distinct lines and an unquestionable firmness.
When her lips were pursed, the line of her lips was clear and thin, revealing a coldness that kept strangers away. But now that she was relaxed, the natural, slightly upturned corners of her lips softened this coldness.
His good looks are not the kind of sunny and unclouded handsomeness, but a quiet one with a sense of story and distance, like a beautifully bound book locked with a complex password, like a bottomless lake shrouded in mist in the early morning of late autumn. Under the quiet, undercurrents surge, which attracts people to explore and also makes people feel timid.
And she is trying to use her paintbrush to interpret this book, to peek into the lake, and to understand the truth beneath the undercurrent.
The music playing in the cafe changed to a new song, a hoarse and lazy female voice singing, as if telling an ancient story.
Gu Nanxiao's body was a little stiff at first, and he remained looking out the window almost motionless, like a handsome but tense statue illuminated by the sunlight.
But slowly, perhaps infected by the soothing and peaceful atmosphere in the store, or perhaps softened by her focused, gentle, and non-aggressive gaze, his tense shoulders gradually relaxed.
Occasionally, his gaze would turn away from the window, seemingly unintentionally and extremely quickly passing over Jiang Yile who was painting.
She was very absorbed in painting, with a slightly frowned brow and eyes focused and bright, as if the whole world consisted of only her, the canvas and the model in front of her.
The hand holding the paintbrush is steady and strong, and every stroke of the brush is filled with quiet confidence and careful cherishment.
The winter sun shone through the huge glass windows, enveloping her unreservedly, dancing on her drooping, long eyelashes as thick as butterfly wings, creating a circle of furry golden light, and spreading a soft halo on the fine, almost invisible hairs on her cheeks. The tip of her nose was slightly sweaty due to concentration.
Occasionally, she would slightly curl up the corners of her mouth because she had mixed a satisfactory color or captured a subtle expression. That momentary smile was clean and satisfied, like a stone thrown into an icy lake, creating strange ripples in his heart that he could not ignore.
He looked at it, a little lost in thought.
The scene before me is quiet, beautiful, and unreal, like a warm painting by Renoir that has come to life, rich in color and flowing with emotion.
He almost wanted to forget the past that weighed on his heart like a mountain, and the guilt and self-confinement that followed him like a shadow. He just wanted time to completely stop at this moment and solidify into eternity.
This strange, almost luxurious feeling of tranquility and warmth made him greedy and panic at the same time.
Time flows quietly with the subtle friction between the pen tip and the color, like the fine sand in an hourglass.
Jiang Yile was completely immersed in the world of creation, forgetting the embarrassment, forgetting the nervousness, and even temporarily forgetting that he was Gu Nanxiao. He was just a unique and "beautiful" moment that she wanted to capture and record, a projection of her thoughts.
She caught the confusion and emptiness that flashed across his eyes when he occasionally lost his mind; she caught the tiny fan-shaped shadows cast by the sunlight on the ends of his eyelashes, like the wings of a butterfly resting; she caught the curve of his Adam's apple that rolled slightly with his breathing, with the youthful sexiness unique to a teenager... These details made the portrait she drew become more vivid and full of flesh and blood, becoming more than just a handsome face, but began to reveal his inner emotions and soul, revealing those parts of him that he never showed easily.
I don’t know how long it took, but the angle of the sunlight outside the window had quietly shifted, from bright gold to a softer warm orange.
Jiang Yile finally put down his paintbrush, breathed a long sigh of relief, and rubbed his sore wrists and neck.
The long period of concentration made her a little tired, but her spirit was extremely excited, as if she had completed an important ritual.
"Okay, that's about it for today." She stood up, stretched her stiff back, and looked at the portrait on the canvas with satisfaction. It was already beginning to take shape, and even she was surprised. "The overall relationship and color tone are laid out. Next time I just need to adjust the details slightly and delve into the facial features and expression."
She turned her head and spoke to Gu Nanxiao with a smile, her voice filled with the relief of having completed a stage task.
Upon hearing this, Gu Nanxiao paused for a moment almost imperceptibly, then slowly stood up, walked to her side and stood still.
His eyes fell on the canvas.
In the painting, he is sitting in a warm and hazy background with interweaving light and shadow. His dark grey sweater has a soft texture, and the lines of his profile are clear yet soft. He looks out the window calmly with his unique sense of alienation, as if there is an invisible film separating him from the surrounding bustle.
But the amazing thing is that the brushstrokes of the painting contain a gentle interpretation, an affectionate and careful observation, which accurately captures the subtle softness hidden beneath the indifferent appearance that he himself has not noticed.
There was a faint trace of loneliness and fragility, and even a hint of... tranquility after being briefly comforted by beautiful things.
She drew him... not like the sinful, cold, and unattractive self he knew, but more like a clean-cut boy with ordinary troubles and quiet moments, someone who deserved to be treated gently.
He watched silently for a long time without saying anything.
The "him" on the canvas is both familiar and unfamiliar.
What is familiar is the outline; what is unfamiliar is the softened and deeply understood inner world, the feeling of being "seen".
He never thought that he would appear like this in the eyes of others, especially in her eyes.
A complex emotion surged in my heart, including surprise, touch, a hint of panic, and... an indescribable emotion, as if a hard, frozen corner deep in my heart was gently touched by something, and a crack appeared.
"What's wrong?" Jiang Yile saw that he was silent for a long time, and her heart was a little uneasy. She asked nervously, "Is it... that the painting doesn't look like it? Or is there something that makes you feel uncomfortable?"
She worried whether she was over-interpreting, offending a part of him he didn't want to show, or painting a picture he didn't like.
Gu Nanxiao seemed to be awakened at this moment. He turned his head and looked at her deeply. His eyes were complicated, with surprise, touch, and a hint of... indescribable emotion and confusion.
He spoke, his voice a little hoarse due to the long silence, with a hint of uncertainty: "Very similar."
He paused, his gaze returning to the painting, and added, his voice so soft it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, with a rare, almost clumsy honesty: "...prettier than I am."
Jiang Yile was stunned for a moment, then realized what he meant. He was affirming her painting skills in an extremely awkward way, even... with a little bit of imperceptible, almost shy embarrassment?
She couldn't help but burst out laughing, and her previous nervousness instantly disappeared. An inexplicable courage made her blurt out: "You are beautiful to begin with."
The tone was unquestionable sincerity and a hint of protection, as if stating a natural and objective fact.
When these words were spoken, both of them were stunned.
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