Later, he still couldn't go to the art exhibition because Pan Jiawei had taken on a project and had to go to another city with his mentor.
Pan Jiawei on the phone was on the verge of tears, while Fu Xuanliao, who heard about it on the other end of the line, laughed heartily. Shi Meng, who suddenly turned around, caught him in the act, and Fu Xuanliao quickly smiled and coughed lightly: "Since we've already bought the tickets, then... shall we go together?"
Fu Xuanliao finally got his wish and went.
He was just a driver.
Shi Meng invited Li Bihan to join them. Fu Xuanliao went to the venue and bought a ticket. He followed behind like a bodyguard, only able to sneakily touch Shi Meng's hand when Li Bihan wasn't looking and whisper something like, "This painting isn't as good as yours." He was even glared at by Shi Meng as if he were a hooligan, which made him feel quite wronged.
After shopping until the afternoon, they drove back. On the way, they talked about the New Year's Eve dinner that Wei Liangji had invited them to. Li Bihan looked at the time and said with a smile, "We might still make it if we go now."
As soon as Shi Meng got out of the car and stepped into the courtyard, someone used the same trick again and dragged her to the porch.
"Are you really going?" Fu Xuanliao asked incredulously.
Shi Meng said, "If we can catch up, we'll go."
Fu Xuanliao became anxious again: "That guy clearly has ill intentions towards you."
"He appreciates my paintings."
"Then why do you always stare at me?"
"It's clearly you who's always staring at me."
How would you know I'm watching you if you don't look at me?
"..."
In silence, Shi Meng even felt that the conversation was somewhat familiar.
Fu Xuanliao also argued, "I always stare at you because I like you. I've confessed my feelings, unlike those old men who want to flirt with you without making a commitment."
Thinking of those three words that Fu Xuanliao often said, Shi Meng's cheeks flushed, and she couldn't say anything more.
The two had been contractual bed partners, and were more familiar with each other's bodies than with their own, but this was the first time they had touched each other's hearts and talked about feelings for the first time.
Like a naive young man experiencing his first love, Fu Xuanliao belatedly felt embarrassed. However, to avoid losing face, he could only bite the bullet and say, "Think about it... isn't that the truth?"
Shi Meng looked down at the ground, and after a long while, he finally spoke in a muffled voice: "You're the one who's being unreasonable."
Just as he was about to ask what was wrong with him, he suddenly heard a series of hurried footsteps, and Li Bihan, who had just entered the room, came out.
Seeing the two people standing under the eaves, she stepped forward with her phone in hand, her expression grave.
"I'm afraid we won't be able to go to the banquet," she said to Shi Meng. "Shi Huaiyi was in a car accident, and his condition isn't good. We need to go back and check on him."
The group arrived at the hospital at 8 p.m.
The city of Fengcheng was ablaze with lights at night, and the hospital, though brightly lit as day, was tinged with a chill. The floor reflected the stark white light, and abrupt footsteps echoed through the long corridors.
As soon as they got off the elevator, Shi Huaiyi's assistant came up to them, leading them to the intensive care unit while explaining the details of the situation.
It wasn't complicated. Shi Huai was on his way to inspect a construction site in the suburbs. Because of the time crunch, he was driving fast when he encountered a drunk driver running a red light. The accident was caused by the collision of the two speeding cars.
It is said that the drunk driver was not wearing a seatbelt and died on the spot. Shi Huai was sitting in the back seat, and the driver braked and steered in time to avoid the impact on the side of the car. Even so, he was still bleeding from a head injury when he was carried to the hospital and remains unconscious.
After emergency treatment, he is now out of immediate danger. Visiting is not allowed in the intensive care unit at this time; people can only glimpse him from a distance through a glass wall.
Shi Meng and Shi Huai were not very close, and he could not forgive Shi Huai for not reporting the truth to protect himself. Seeing this usually imposing "big shot in Fengcheng" lying there quietly, wearing an oxygen mask and with his head wrapped in thick gauze, pale as a corpse, he only felt a little pity, just like when Shi Meng was lying in a hospital bed.
Li Bihan found it hard to remain unmoved, after all, he was the father of her child and someone she had lived with like family for decades.
After leaving the intensive care unit, Li Bihan let out a long sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
Shi Meng stepped forward and supported her arm. She patted the back of Shi Meng's hand as if to tell him that his mother was alright.
The mother and son walked slowly down the deserted hospital corridor. Li Bihan spoke slowly as well: "This man is really a headache. Even when we were still husband and wife, he was always giving me trouble. One minute he was having other women outside, the next he was bringing a child back. He kept breaking the mirror that I had repaired, so that when I stood in front of the mirror, I couldn't even see myself clearly."
Shi Meng knew that she actually hated herself for choosing to forgive time and time again, and she also knew the difficulties she faced as a mother, so she never listened to the rumors outside.
She can endure for her child, and she can also leave resolutely for her child, letting the mirror shatter on the spot. Li Bihan's strength is something that most people in the world cannot reach.
Unfortunately, Shi Meng was not good at comforting people. After thinking for a long time, he could only say, "It's not your fault."
“Yes, it’s not my fault.” Li Bihan forced a smile despite her exhaustion because of those three words, and said with a bitter smile, “If anyone is to blame, it’s that Li Bihan, at twenty-two years old, only looks at a man’s face. That’s too superficial.”
These words didn't sound like they were spoken to a son; they sounded more like they were spoken to a long-time friend.
Shi Meng, however, was quite comfortable with this way of getting along. After thinking about it carefully, he concluded, "Beauty fades with time."
Just as midnight struck, the clock tower in the distance rang, heralding the arrival of the new year.
Li Bihan suddenly sighed: "Yes, I'm another year older."
This time it was Shi Meng's turn to advise her: "Every year is a new journey."
Turning his head, he saw Fu Xuanliao standing not too far away. When he saw him turn around, he smiled.
Because his elders were present, he only mouthed something silently. Shi Meng pretended not to understand, turned back, and continued walking forward.
Then, she smiled and silently wished him a Happy New Year.
The news that Shi Huaiyi was seriously injured in a car accident and hospitalized spread throughout the streets and alleys of Fengcheng on the second day of the new year.
Now that the Shi family has lost its leader, Li Bihan has no choice but to step in on behalf of Shi Meng and help arrange various matters.
Shi Meng couldn't stand idly by, so he stayed at a nearby hotel. During the day, Li Bihan would handle official business at the company, while Shi Meng would go outside to draw with his little notebook. Over time, everyone in the group knew that this handsome young man was Shi Huaiyi's only son.
Shi Meng has always ignored the voices from the outside world. Only after feeling the excessive hospitality from the group's employees did he reduce the number of times he went to the company and spend the extra time visiting Jiang Xue or sitting at Teacher Ma's house.
Recently, Shi Meng's life has been focused on the portrait painting finals after the New Year. The two have discussed it several times, but they still haven't been able to choose a subject for the competition.
"Can't I draw Mom again?" Shi Meng asked.
Teacher Ma put on her reading glasses, opened the competition rules and pointed them out to Shi Meng: "The rules state that the preliminary and final rounds cannot be the same."
This put Shi Meng in a difficult position. He was not good at portrait painting, and he couldn't even bring himself to paint people he didn't want to paint. But the finals were fast approaching, and who else could he paint besides Li Bihan?
With this problem in mind, Shi Meng didn't even have a proper lunch.
On the way back, Fu Xuanliao got out of the car and bought him some roasted chestnuts, the kind that are already open and easy to peel. Shi Meng took them and slowly put them in his mouth. As he ate, he fell silent. When he turned his head, he saw that Shi Meng had closed his eyes and fallen asleep.
Later, Fu Xuanliao woke her up. She was too lazy to move and wanted to pretend to be asleep, but Fu Xuanliao used his trump card and whispered in her ear, "If you don't open your eyes, I'll carry you downstairs."
Shi Meng, still in a state of panic, had to pretend to have just woken up. She slowly met Fu Xuanliao's smiling eyes and inexplicably became grumpy.
"What's going on?" He looked outside, feeling a sense of déjà vu. "Where am I?"
Fu Xuanliao's heart raced a little faster at Shi Meng's unconscious coquettishness. He barely managed to suppress the urge to kiss him here, took his hand and led him out of the car, saying gently, "I'll take you to see something good."
Upon entering the hotel-like building and seeing the familiar decorative ceilings and table and chair arrangements, Shi Meng suddenly remembered that this was the venue where "Flame" was auctioned.
Along with that, the mockery and ridicule from those around me, and the pain of having my paintings signed by someone else, flooded my mind.
Almost instinctively, he wanted to escape, but before Shi Meng could turn around, he was grabbed by the wrist and pulled back.
"Trust me," Fu Xuanliao said, "I won't hurt you."
Even so, Shi Meng remained fearful.
An art-related banquet is being held here. Paintings are displayed on the large screen on the stage. Many painters and connoisseurs in the industry are sitting together to appreciate and comment on them. Shi Meng just listens from the side and doesn't dare to join in. Even if someone recognizes him and comes over to toast him, he doesn't know how to react.
Moreover, Shi Meng couldn't understand a word they were saying.
First, there was a connoisseur I'd met a few times, who smiled kindly: "I told him then, you couldn't possibly do something like that."
"Nobody wants to encounter that kind of thing." Then there's a senior figure in the art world, who is tolerant and open-minded: "Fortunately, everything has come to light. From now on, let's focus on creating art and let the unpleasantness go with the wind."
There were also media personnel who had never met him before, with the intention of probing: "Mr. Shi, did you come here to personally vindicate your paintings?"
Fu Xuanliao stopped him.
Fu Xuanliao led the bewildered Shi Meng to the side of the stage, found a sparsely populated spot for him to sit down, and pointed to the stage: "Look, it's starting."
Shi Meng looked up in a daze and saw a beam of light suddenly shine on the screen.
And in the center of the screen was his painting, "Flame," which is now lost.
Shi Meng couldn't quite remember what happened afterward.
I only remember having a dream where someone exhibited a photo of his painting and, based on the authentication results issued by an authoritative appraiser, corrected the name of the artist.
When Shi Meng woke up, he didn't believe it. But when he saw the name "Shi Meng" clearly signed below the painting, the sound and image were transmitted to his heart through his senses, causing a deafening throbbing, and he began to feel some reality.
The familiar host apologized to the organizers for previously misidentifying the artist of the painting, and then solemnly introduced this work by the emerging artist Shi Meng, which combines ingenuity and inspiration.
Every stroke of his pen, every line imbued with his heart and soul, is seen and recognized.
So many words of praise fell into Shi Meng's ears, and all the applause and praise rang out for him. In a daze, Shi Meng returned to the dream that had been created for him.
The difference is that this time, the beautiful dream will never end.
As the banquet ended and the noise subsided, Shi Meng walked along the walkway leading outside and suddenly swayed slightly.
Fu Xuanliao quickly caught him and frowned, saying, "I told you to drink less."
Shi Meng smiled and squinted her eyes: "I'm happy."
The little mushroom was so happy that no amount of money could buy it, so Fu Xuanliao went with him, thinking that there might be a surprise later.
Once the car was on the road, he realized he had been overthinking things. Although he was drunk, he was still quite lucid and even had the energy to pull out his notebook and draw a picture of the clock tower at night with a 99% accuracy.
He held the painting up to Fu Xuanliao and asked, "Is it beautiful?"
Fu Xuanliao said it looked good, but he didn't believe her and asked again, "Really?"
"Really, if you don't believe me, you can ask others."
"I'm asking you."
"good."
Fu Xuanliao responded, parked the car on the side of the road, took the notebook and examined it carefully under the reading light, then said sincerely, "It's great, even better than what my art teachers drew back then."
Shi Meng still doubted his appreciation level: "But you've only been learning for less than a week."
"So what? Do you think I can't tell the difference between good and bad?" Fu Xuanliao pointed to a few places. "Look at these lines. How could you draw them without ten or twenty years of hard work and study? I've seen how much effort you've put in all these years."
"Think about it, did those people applaud every painting just now? It's only because you painted well, exceptionally well, otherwise they wouldn't even bother to look at it."
After he finished speaking, the car fell silent for a moment.
Then, Shi Meng, deep in silence, raised her hand and wiped her eyes.
Fu Xuanliao was quite frightened, thinking he had said something wrong. He wanted to comfort him but didn't know where to start, so he took out a tissue, pretended to be Shi Meng's chin to make him turn around, gently wiped away the tears that overflowed from the corners of his eyes, and said, "I was wrong, don't cry."
It's so clumsy it's worse than a house cat.
Shi Meng couldn't bring himself to curse; his mind raced with thoughts, but the only thing he could utter was, "You're so annoying."
Fu Xuanliao was taken aback: "Me? What's bothering me?"
If Shi Meng didn't want to talk about it, he would keep asking, looking like he was humbly seeking advice, as if he could correct himself on the spot as long as Shi Meng told him.
Pressed for answers, Shi Meng had no choice but to say, "I always apologize and admit my mistakes casually."
There are many things that are not your fault.
“That doesn’t count…” Fu Xuanliao changed his mind halfway through his sentence, “Okay, I’ll change it. Anything else?”
Of course.
But Shi Meng shook his head, meaning he didn't intend to tell him.
With tears streaming down her face, Shi Meng silently thought to herself, "You're so annoying."
After I accept the reality that I am insignificant, they always tell me—you are amazing and great.
Your small wish is more important to me than anything else.
Long ago, Shi Meng thought she had lost the ability to cry.
Now he realized that even crying requires the right time and place. Before, when faced with the injustice of fate and the condemnation of everyone, he could be strong enough to remain indifferent because he was fighting alone, and no one could see his tears.
Now, he dares to reveal his vulnerability and grievances. This is different from the cathartic release when his heart is dead and his spirit is broken. It is a kind of tear that he sheds because he is cherished and loved, and because someone feels what he feels.
Tears of feigning strength for so long, finally shed in despair.
Seeing that Shi Meng's tears not only did not stop, but seemed to be getting worse, Fu Xuanliao panicked completely. He threw away the tissue and wiped his tears with his hands, then leaned in to cover them with his lips. The tears flowed into his mouth, salty and bitter.
He seemed to understand why Shi Meng was crying, but still didn't know how to comfort her, so he turned to the side and hurriedly pulled Shi Meng into his arms.
Shi Mengyi hugged him back, her fingers digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders and back, holding him very tightly.
He had once lingered at many crossroads of fate, struggling stubbornly and hoping that someone would come to save him.
Now that he has finally got his hands on it, he's afraid he won't be able to hold onto it, afraid that if he's not careful, it will slip away again.
After catching his breath, Shi Meng, emboldened by the alcohol, asked, "Will you leave?"
What will I do if you leave?
"What will you do when you realize it wasn't me? What will you do when you regret it?"
After hastily asking a series of questions, the first response I received was a superstition.
Fu Xuanliao said gruffly, "On such a fine day, you're not allowed to say such unlucky things."
Then, he steeled himself and pushed Shi Meng away, forcing him to face him.
“If it’s not you, then who else could it be?” Fu Xuanliao said, his eyes wide and already red. “You see, it’s always been you, from the beginning until now, only you.”
He proved his words with every action, and Shi Meng truly saw himself reflected in him.
It's filled with images of myself named Shi Meng.
The two stared at each other for a long time. After Shi Meng calmed down and her emotions gradually stabilized, Fu Xuanliao let out a breath: "I'll tell you slowly when we get back."
"Even though you may not believe it, I must tell you."
This time, Shi Meng didn't say "no." Instead, she closed her eyes, squeezed out the last two tears, and let her exhausted body fall back into the arms of the person in front of her.
Fu Xuanliao hugged Shi Meng again and whispered in his ear, "Is there anything else I don't know? You can tell me slowly in the future, okay?"
They then pressed their advantage, using the pretext of negotiation to coax him into revealing his true feelings.
But now is not the time to dwell on it.
While hearing the gentle words, Shi Meng also caught another voice.
He raised his hand and pressed it against his heart, feeling the tremor of something bursting forth from the ground beneath his palm.
It is the sound of flowers blooming even when it is low to the dust.
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