"No rush, let me call those friends first and talk to them about the art exhibition," said Mr. Lin.
"OK."
"Uncle Lin, Uncle Lin, how did you make this snow sculpture? Please teach us."
"Uncle Lin, I'd like to get a panda statue in front of our house. Do you have any suggestions?"
"I want to put a Doraemon statue in front of my house..."
"..."
After taking photos of Mr. Lin's artwork, many of the village children began to ask him for advice.
Mr. Lin was generous in sharing his experience.
After he finished, he went home and started calling his three good friends.
On the other end of the phone.
When Mr. Lin explained that he wanted to invite Duan Wenguo to participate in the calligraphy and painting exhibition, Duan Wenguo was completely stunned.
Then, he said with a wry smile, "Xiao Yan, so many years have passed, and my painting skills have long since deteriorated to the point where they are no longer presentable."
"To be honest, I was really tempted when you invited me to participate in the calligraphy and painting exhibition, but... I can't paint the things I used to. Life has long since worn down my initial impulsiveness and edges."
"Of course, I'll definitely go to your art exhibition. When is it?"
Mr. Lin was not surprised by his refusal, but hearing him say that still made him feel a pang of heartache for a moment.
Who hasn't given up so much in order to make a living?
But true passion is passion.
Even if you put it aside for many years, it's only a matter of time before you pick it up again if you want to.
"You can also look for your old paintings at home. I remember the year we graduated, a few of us painted several pictures and even found glass frames to mount them."
"At the time, I was full of ambition and said that in the future, I would take those paintings to art exhibitions and win so many awards that I wouldn't know what to do with them."
"What I remember most clearly is that you had a square oil painting, which depicted a middle-aged man holding a copper pipe and wearing green clothes."
"That painting was really good. Back then, the three of us were all praising it."
Upon hearing what Lin's father said, Duan Wenguo on the other end of the phone immediately recalled the scene from back then.
He himself didn't realize that at that moment, the corners of his mouth were turned up.
"Xiao Yan, do you think you're the only one with a good memory? Back then, your favorite painting was the sunflower you drew yourself and put on the table."
"It's also an oil painting, and the sunflowers in the painting are passionate and unrestrained."
“We were joking with you, saying that you’re the next Van Gogh.”
"Hehehe, when I was young, I thought that as long as I studied painting seriously enough, I would become a famous painter one day."
"In the end, reality slapped me hard in the face."
"To be honest, I haven't touched painting since I started farming."
"So many years have passed in the blink of an eye. If my daughter and daughter-in-law hadn't suddenly brought it up, and if our village's Party Secretary Zhang hadn't discovered my talent for painting, I'm afraid I would have ended up like you, never able to pick up a paintbrush again."
"But Wenguo, I still can't let go of painting."
"I feel like this thing is engraved in my body and has become a part of my life."
"I also thought that decades from now, I would no longer be able to paint."
"However, that's not the case."
"The paintbrush I picked up triggered a wave of memories from the past."
"Even if I don't admit it, the fact is that after all these years, I can still paint, but it's not as imaginative as it used to be."
"Wen Guo, this art exhibition is actually very small; it's just set up in our village."
"Just look for some paintings from back then at home and send two over."
"If you can't find one, try drawing one yourself."
"Why not just consider it fulfilling a dream we had when we were young?"
After Mr. Lin finished speaking, Duan Wenguo on the other end of the line was silent for about ten seconds before saying in a deep voice, "Okay."
Not only are the memories of the dead attacking Lin Weiyan, but they also begin to attack him whenever he mentions these things.
The reason these four people were able to develop from acquaintances into good friends is inseparable from their shared love of painting.
For example, right now, Lin Weiyan only said a few words, and he shamefully fell for her.
Let's just consider it fulfilling a dream I had when I was young.
Duan Wenguo said this to himself as he hung up the phone.
He went into the storage room of his house and began to look through his old paintings.
During this process, he saw his sketchbook from decades ago when he practiced drawing, his own drawing board, a stack of his own drafts, and a photo of him sitting in the art classroom that someone had taken of him.
The background of the photo is a sculpture by Michelangelo.
The photo looked faded and old, but he looked young and had bright eyes, exuding the aura of an art student.
I was so handsome back then, when I was young...
Back in my younger days, I and Lin Weiyan and his group of four had inexhaustible energy and enthusiasm.
To learn to paint, they each rode a 28-inch bicycle, a journey that took four hours to reach the art studio.
Back then, I really suffered a lot and put in a lot of effort to get into painting.
But how did it end up like this?
Thinking of this, Duan Wenguo suddenly felt his eyes sting.
There was also a slight throbbing pain in my heart.
Lin Weiyan is right. We have to seize this opportunity to give our younger selves an explanation.
My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
