Chapter 1783 Active Love Brain
Mu Ying didn't know what to say. Should she tell the young master that whenever he saw a strong male sculpture, he would think of him?
"I won't watch it anyway."
"Okay, as you say." The young master took her hand and walked into one of the oil painting exhibition halls.
The two walked quietly in the corridor, looking around as they walked.
The exhibition hall was very quiet. The young master walked steadily, stopping and starting between the paintings, with his own rhythm.
Mu Ying's steps were a little messy. Either the young master walked forward after admiring the painting, and she reacted and hurriedly followed him in small steps, or she walked forward and the young master stayed where he was, and she retreated back to his side.
Later, the young master simply put his arm around her waist to stop her from running around and to give her some support as she was slightly tipsy.
Champagne is not strong in alcohol, but maybe it was because she drank it too quickly, the aftereffect was quite strong. Mu Ying felt dizzy, so she leaned against the young master like a little bird.
The young master's eyes followed each piece of work, and it was obvious that he really liked these works and was full of admiration.
Mu Ying looked at the young master with the same look.
She also discovered that since the young master was no longer just a young master but became her husband, his temper became better and better.
The previously cold face now has a smile, and the personality that used to be decisive and caring has also softened a lot.
Is this what the old song says: No matter how hard your heart is, it can still be softened?
Just as she was staring at the young master in a daze, he stopped and looked down at her: "Are you here to see the painting, or to see me?"
Mu Ying turned away embarrassedly, realizing that her love brain was starting to become active again...
I originally wanted to appreciate the art works properly, at least to make the young master get his money's worth for booking the whole place. But until now, I have no heart to look at the paintings, I just appreciate him.
Or was it because of that awful wine...
However, after being reminded by the young master, Mu Ying consciously restrained her love-inspired brain and stopped being distracted.
It is also because these works are so excellent that when people gaze at those paintings, they can't help but have many beautiful associations.
Take, for example, this painting of a wheat field.
Golden colors, simple harvesters, warm sunshine, gentle wind...
A paintbrush can make people feel as if they are in the scene depicted in the painting. Mu Ying also seems to have passed through the painting and arrived at the ridge of the wheat field.
She stood under the shade of a tree with a small easel in front of her. Her small hands holding the paintbrush painted without paying attention to any technique, relying solely on her feelings.
In the distance are people working on the farm, and under the trees are my parents enjoying the cool air. This is a rare weekend when my father is at home.
The breeze was blowing gently, the wheat waves were rolling, Mu Ying closed her eyes, and seemed to smell the sweet aroma of wheat straw.
When she opened her eyes again, a butterfly had landed on her easel.
Mother said, Yingying, please draw this butterfly too.
So little Muying carefully drew the butterfly on the paper.
When she finished painting, the butterfly flew away and she turned the easel around to show her parents.
Dad nodded in approval: "Yingying has made progress. Keep going. Maybe she will become a little painter in the future!"
My mother laughed and said, "Maybe she's a fashion designer."
Little Muying asked her mother, "What can I do as a fashion designer?"
“You can make lots of pretty little skirts!”
“Then I want to be a fashion designer!”
Perhaps because she had been staring at the wheat field for too long, Mu Ying's eyes became sore, and the golden wheat waves had become a blurred mass in front of her eyes.
The young master hugged her from behind, as if he couldn't bear to interrupt her, and asked softly, "Do you like this painting?"
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