Under the scorching sun, cicadas chirped incessantly, and every now and then a cool breeze would cause the leaves to flutter like butterflies.
Chu Wuyang sat in a wicker chair under a sunshade, holding a glass of chilled bayberry juice in her hand.
As the dream artist depicted the scene she had just mentioned, they would occasionally exchange a few words.
On a full-size sheet of paper, the basic outline of a sea is visible, and the artist is painting black clouds.
Chu Wuyang suddenly stood up and accidentally knocked over the delicate desserts on the table next to the wicker chair.
The girl turned around with a slightly puzzled look.
"What's wrong, Madam?"
Chu Wuyang spoke in a cool, gentle voice.
"It's alright, you can continue."
The girl's attention returned to the screen, where many churning waves, seemingly ready to engulf people at any moment, had begun to appear.
Chu Wuyang clenched her already cold hands. The surroundings were so quiet that she could even hear the soft scratching of paintbrushes on paper.
But she clearly heard many different kinds of noises all around her, so noisy, as if she could hear many demons mocking her.
"Hahaha, so useless!"
"You're such a coward, I'll just bully you."
"You're useless. Sooner or later, someone will take everything from you and kick you aside. Then you'll be nothing but unwanted trash, haha, pathetic wretch."
"You've ruined everything for yourself and others, how come you're still alive and well?"
She couldn't take it anymore; she stood there, staggering, feeling danger all around her.
Her thoughts were jumbled, she couldn't concentrate, and she wanted to escape.
The girl, still drawing, heard footsteps fading away behind her, but didn't turn around. A smile played on her lips as she focused even more intently on finishing her painting.
It looks like it's going to rain; she needs to hurry. This can't be put off until tomorrow.
At the same time, in the bay area, in an ocean-view hotel suite,
Jing Min sat in the living room wearing only a thin, precisely tailored white shirt and black suit trousers.
Her long, straight legs were casually crossed on the sofa, and her slender, fair fingers lazily swung across the tablet.
Several impeccably dressed subordinates stood before him, reporting on their work, while Yan Zhou took notes.
I glanced at President Jing, who was lost in thought. He'd been spacing out a lot lately, which was quite unusual for someone who was always so busy.
However, even if neglecting this task could result in a business loss of hundreds of millions, for someone like President Jing, whose wealth, intellect, and methods are all top-notch, it wouldn't be a problem.
The impact is negligible.
Because if he were willing to spare even a little effort, he could reverse the losing trend in no time.
Even if one is unwilling to devote those two points of attention, the losses are negligible and not worth worrying about. It's truly a case of being rich and willful.
Someone like him, who works closely with President Jing, would be incredibly intelligent; he wouldn't dare to even spare a thought for daydreaming.
However, he was still very curious about what President Jing was staring at in a daze.
There was even a rare smile playing on his lips; it couldn't possibly be just report data, could it?
Although the group's profits continued to rise this quarter, this is nothing out of the ordinary. Yan Zhou moved his feet without making a sound.
The velvet carpet makes absolutely no sound. Why would a special assistant to the president of a listed company be so suspicious?
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a painting, a very abstract painting.
A dark cloud drifted across the pale blue sky, raining colorful clouds; gentle, azure waves enveloped a girl in a white dress.
A series of dancing musical notes stretched out,
The girl was swimming happily, gazing at the tall, handsome boy standing not far away on the shore. Behind the boy was a white villa.
The wall is covered with colorful climbing flowers, creating a dreamy and cozy atmosphere.
Not far from the girl, a young couple watched her and smiled, while an old man sat in a small boat, looking at her kindly.
Beneath the boy's feet, colorful fish soared into the air, surrounded by strings of dreamlike bubbles.
Jingmin looked at the serene and beautiful painting that had been passed down from home.
I heard it was a dream depiction created by a specially hired dream artist; it's her dream!
Such a beautiful scene definitely needs to be preserved.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, and the smile at the corners of his mouth disappeared, as he tried to find any trace of his presence in the image.
It was obvious that the boy with the slightly curly chestnut hair was not him; it was Yang Jinchu's distinctive feature.
The young couple must be her parents, and the elderly woman must be her maternal grandmother.
The people she cares about most are in her dreams; that's the most real thing, isn't it?
I've heard that dream artists use dreamlike colors to paint scenes they desire in order to achieve a healing and emotional release effect.
Her resentful eyes before she left were deeply imprinted in his heart.
Has his long-standing yearning become an obsession that prevents him from moving on and letting go?
Years of climbing the social ladder had long since shaped his cold and indifferent personality, but only she could always stir his emotions, causing him extreme inner turmoil.
Thinking of the source, his clear eyes filled with icy coldness, a single glance enough to plunge one into an ice cellar.
The fireplace in the drawing room was made of marble, and the burning flames crackled.
It warmed the whole room, but it couldn't warm that cold heart.
The short meeting ended, and after his subordinates had all left, Jing Min took out his phone and checked it.
So many days without a single phone call or message; dragging my weary body...
Standing before the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, his cold, hard fingers twitched, and he dialed the home phone.
Aunt Rong answered the phone and heard the person on the other end ask a few irrelevant questions.
Without hanging up, he knew what the person was thinking, so he picked up the phone and let the person who was supposed to answer it take over.
Chu Wuyang stared at this dreamlike painting in her room for a long time. Even though all the figures and backgrounds from her dream were there,
But what was presented was a completely different scene, familiar yet strange.
Suddenly, a figure blocked the light, casting a shadow that interrupted her train of thought.
She looked up and saw Aunt Rong handing her a cell phone, gesturing to indicate who was on the other end.
Chu Wuyang nodded knowingly and answered the phone. It was very quiet on the other end.
As if hearing her breathing, the person on the other end spoke softly:
"What are you doing?"
Chu Wuyang paused, then asked a question instead of answering.
"Is there something you need?"
How polite! The brief pause was both quiet and oppressive.
"It's alright, I need a little more time before I go back. I just wanted to let you know."
"OK"
A question and an answer, polite yet distant.
She could tell he was trying hard to find a topic of conversation, and unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, she interrupted him.
"If there's nothing else, I'll hang up now."
The person on the other end of the phone sounded somewhat disappointed but still obediently replied, "Okay..."
After hanging up the phone, Chu Wuyang's thoughts drifted away again...
The phone vibrated with a "buzzing" sound.
Ye Yuhe sent a message:
"Yangyang, what are you doing at home? Are you free to come out for dinner the day after tomorrow? I have something very important to tell you."
She thought about it for a long time, but her thoughts were scattered. Since she had nothing to do at home all day, she finally agreed.
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