Chapter Twenty-Three: She's Going to Destroy Her
Zhang Lei stammered, his face filled with disbelief.
Meng Jin adjusted his glasses, his smile unchanged:
"There are relevant reports in the Xu family's internal database. If you don't believe it, you can check it yourself."
People who were just chatting and playing games have now stopped what they were doing.
They huddled together in twos and threes, whispering among themselves.
"Holy crap! She was the one who planned 'Oriental Ink Charm'?"
"No wonder President Xu appointed her as the team leader; her resume is just too impressive!"
"You were just saying they got in through connections, don't you feel ashamed now?"
Zhang Lei's face flushed red and then turned pale, as if he had been slapped hard several times.
The arrogance from before vanished, leaving only embarrassment.
Meng Jin ignored them and handed the documents in his hand to Su Xiao:
"Ms. Su, here are the profiles of several calligraphers and painters who may be collaborating on the West Coast project. Please take a look."
His attitude remained gentle and polite.
"Mr. Xu said that if I need anything, I can just contact him directly."
"Thanks."
Su Xiao took the document and saw Xu Bozhou standing behind him through Meng Jin.
Why does he always appear when she's at her most vulnerable?
Is it a coincidence or...?
The office area gradually quieted down, leaving only the sounds of keyboard typing and paper turning.
The employees, who were just a moment ago, are now all on high alert.
No one dared to underestimate this new team leader who looked young but had an amazing resume.
Mengjin has left.
Su Xiao opened the documents in her hand.
Zhang Lei, who was in the corner, glanced at her silently, his eyes revealing a calculating look.
When Su Xiao got off work, it was already getting dark.
The evening breeze swept past her shoulders, carrying sycamore leaves with it, and she pulled her light coat tighter around herself.
I took a taxi to Qin Yu's studio.
Although Xu An's home is nice, it always lacks a bit of warmth and human touch.
On the contrary, this space filled with art supplies and old paper allowed her to relax her tense nerves a little.
"Senior Sister?"
Qin Yu peeked out from behind the workbench; the dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced than yesterday.
"You've finally arrived! I was just worried about having no one to discuss this with."
Su Xiao put down her bag and took a closer look.
On the table lay a brocade box, inside which lay an ebony fan.
The edges of the fan were curled, and the paper was covered with specks of mold, like splashes of light ink.
The worst part is the right fan rib, which is broken in half and the mortise and tenon joint is severely cracked.
"This is……"
Her fingertips hovered above the fan, but she didn't dare touch it.
Judging from the paper and the patina on the fan ribs, it's at least from the late Qing Dynasty.
The small regular script inscription above is elegant and beautiful, and one can vaguely recognize that it is the handwriting of a famous calligrapher.
"A friend brought it over this afternoon, saying it was a private collection of some important person."
Qin Yu scratched his head, his tone revealing his difficulty:
"They're pressuring us, saying they need it in a few days. But the mold has seeped in quite a bit, and the fan ribs are brittle. I'm really not confident about its quality..."
He paused, then, seeing Su Xiao staring intently at the fan, added:
"I originally wanted to decline, but the other party conveyed a message, saying that they knew you were there, and specifically asked me to pass it on."
Su Xiao gently brushed her fingertips across the lightest part of the mold stain.
Although the paper is brittle, the fibers are not completely decayed.
She took a magnifying glass and examined it carefully against the light for a long time:
"The surface mold can be cleaned off, but the bottom mold is more difficult to remove."
"The fan ribs... need to be disassembled and reassembled, with ebony of the same material used to fill the mortise and tenon joints."
"Can it be repaired?" Qin Yu's eyes lit up.
"It can be repaired."
Su Xiao nodded, her voice revealing a hint of certainty:
"It will take some effort, though. Prepare the mold remover and fine sandpaper, and I'll work on the fan surface first."
Qin Yu immediately got to work.
Soon they brought over the prepared mold remover and a row of wolf-hair brushes as fine as hair.
Su Xiao put on white gloves, took a piece of absorbent cotton and soaked it in the mold remover.
Press gently on the moldy area with an almost reverent gesture.
The movements should be light and the force even.
The goal is to bring out the mold without damaging the ink underneath; the slightest mistake can result in irreversible damage.
The only sounds in the studio were the scratching of pens on paper and the ticking of the wall clock.
Qin Yu was working on the fan ribs, occasionally glancing up at Su Xiao.
She had her brows slightly furrowed, and her profile gleamed with a cold, white light under the desk lamp.
He was so focused that it was as if he were detached from everything around him.
It was around 1 a.m.
The mold spots on the surface of the fan have been mostly cleared away, revealing most of the ink-colored landscape underneath.
Qin Yu yawned widely, rubbing his sore eyes, and said:
"Senior sister, I really can't hold on any longer. There's a rest room downstairs. I'm going to lie down for a while. Call me if you need anything."
Su Xiao didn't even look up:
"Go ahead, I'll work on it for a bit longer."
After Qin Yu left, the studio fell completely silent.
Moonlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the floor and landing on Su Xiao's hand holding the pen.
She switched to a finer pen.
While carefully removing the mold spots embedded in the strokes of the character "云" (cloud).
The door creaked open.
A cold wind blew in, carrying the scent of perfume, and Su Xiao's hand trembled.
The pen tip left a tiny ink mark on the test paper next to it.
Su Xiao thought it was Qin Yu, but when she looked up, she saw Xia Zhi standing at the door.
She was carrying a sandalwood pencil case, a deliberate smile playing on her lips.
"Is Miss Su still busy?"
Xia Zhi walked in, her gaze sweeping over the fan on the table, her tone filled with undisguised contempt:
"Now that your hand is injured, all we can do is repair it."
Su Xiao put down her pen, her fingertips white from the pressure she had applied for so long:
What are you doing here?
"What's the rush?"
Xia Zhi shook the pencil case in her hand, walked to the table, and opened it.
Inside lay a lustrous white sheep's hair brush, its handle inlaid with tiny mother-of-pearl fragments.
"I've come to deliver the compensation that Ming Shen promised you yesterday."
She held the pen with two fingers, as if she were holding something dirty.
He casually handed it to Su Xiao:
"Look, what a wonderful thing."
"Take it away."
Su Xiao's voice was as cold as ice.
She never wanted his things in the first place.
She thought it was dirty.
"What? You're afraid to answer?"
Xia Zhi's smile widened, and she took half a step forward, the pen almost poking Su Xiao's face:
"That's true. You're not qualified to use a pen like this now."
"Shut up!"
Su Xiao suddenly raised her hand and slapped her hand away, causing the sandalwood pencil case to fall to the ground with a "thud".
The mother-of-pearl inlaid penholder hit a blue brick and broke in two.
Xia Zhi's face instantly darkened, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on:
"Su Xiao, you're just a useless person who injured your hand and can't create anymore."
"waste?"
Su Xiao stood up and looked down at her:
"Back in the art competition, you lost to a piece of trash like me."
"Su Xiao!"
Xia Zhi, feeling her sore spot had been touched, reached out and pushed Su Xiao's shoulder:
"What do you have to be so proud of?"
Caught off guard, Su Xiao staggered backward as she was pushed, her lower back hitting the edge of the workbench.
The pain made her gasp.
Before she could even stand up straight, Xia Zhi rushed up again and started tearing at her hair.
He was hurling vulgar and offensive insults.
In the chaos, Su Xiao tripped over the brocade box at her feet.
He lunged forward, his forehead slamming hard against the corner of the table, and a burst of stars flashed before his eyes.
Immediately afterwards, a sharp pain shot through my right hand.
She looked down and saw that the carving knife on the table had fallen.
The blade was deeply embedded in his palm, and beads of blood gushed out.
The drops fell onto the test paper, spreading into dark red flowers.
"Let's see what you can use to compete with me."
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