Contest (2)
The exhibition continued as scheduled until its seventh day. The interior decoration and arrangement of the paintings were clearly meticulously crafted, offering a new perspective and a pleasant surprise at every turn. Notable figures appeared one after another, accompanied by Mr. Zhao Yuwei. The entire scene resembled little goldfish swimming among water lilies, evoking a sense of leisurely rural life.
Hui Zifeng carefully admired the paintings alone. Most of them were a blend of surrealism and romanticism, a style completely different from his master's, a point that surprised many. The paintings were grand and full of storytelling. Simple explanatory text accompanied them, but even so, it took time to understand the emotions conveyed by the beautiful brushstrokes.
"What does this mean?"
Suddenly, a sentence rang in my ears. Hui Zifeng didn't even bother to look back at the person who spoke, and walked towards the next painting. Just as he took a step, he suddenly came to his senses and found that the voice came from a familiar person. He turned his head and saw that it was Ming Yan. Hui Zifeng smiled politely, "Why are you here?"
"This is a rare opportunity. Even if you don't understand, just come and join in the fun." Ming Yan said, "Okay, I won't bother you anymore."
What a cold-hearted person! Ming Yan thought.
Hui Zifeng felt embarrassed and wanted to step forward to explain, but Ming Yan refused.
"Never mind, never mind. I'm just joining in the fun to see if I can get some inspiration. If I understand too much, I'll lose the room for imagination."
As the two were talking, an inexplicable commotion erupted nearby. Looking back, they saw a crowd gathered in one spot, the camera focused on the center. Ming Yan glanced at Hui Zifeng and motioned for him to join them. As they approached, one in front and one behind, they saw that the people surrounded were two elderly gentlemen with silver hair and beards.
Ming Yan remembered one of them and said in surprise, "The one on the left is the one who came to my shop before! Could the one on the right be Mr. Zhao's teacher?"
I hadn't expected the two centenarians to meet so soon. Mr. Ichihashi, with his legs and feet failing, was in a wheelchair. His young friend, looking like a teenager, pushed him. Two young men stood guard on either side, repeatedly reminding others not to get too close to avoid crowding the elderly man.
The reporter asked Mr. Hitotsubashi some questions, and he praised his students profusely. After a few polite exchanges, everyone dispersed, not bothering the old man any more. Mingyan and Hui Zifeng had also wandered off when they were unexpectedly stopped.
"You are Mr. Ming Yan from Shanyou Fusu. Am I right?" The old man pushing the wheelchair repeated to Ming Yan.
Ming Yan was flattered and hurried over to shake his hand, smiling repeatedly, "It's me, it's me. I didn't expect Grandpa still remember me!"
"Don't look at me because I'm old, I have a very good memory! Xiaoqiao, look, this is the owner of the store I told you about, a young and promising girl. Fortunately, we two brothers can still meet before we die."
"Grandpa, you're too polite. Actually, it's all thanks to this person, Grandpa, do you still remember?" Ming Yan pulled Hui Zifeng forward.
The old man held his glasses and looked at it for a few more times, his brows furrowed. After a moment of silence, his thoughts suddenly became clear and he smiled happily. "This is Xiaohui. I remember that she was obsessed with my painting. I'm sorry, Xiaohui, but later I changed my mind and sent it to Mingyan. If you are still interested, you can go find her. I don't care anymore."
"I am deeply honored that you still remember me, sir."
"Have you found the person in the painting?" the old man asked curiously.
"No." Hui Zifeng looked disappointed. "He's an unknown person, and there's no clue. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"Yes, it's difficult, too difficult." The old man sighed.
"Who are you talking about?" asked Mr. Yiqiao.
"Do you remember that one day before you left home, your father suddenly drew a picture?"
"Remember. The girl in green in the painting?"
He knew about this, too? Hui Zifeng was momentarily confused. He'd thought Teacher Zhao Yuwei was in a trance, making up a story, but it turned out to be true. Not only him, but others had noticed the presence of the girl in green.
"It seems you remember it better than me. Xiaoqiao, why?"
Why? Hui Zifeng was eager to know. Was it the girl in green?
"I later thought I'd seen someone who looked very similar to her," Mr. Hitotsubashi said. "I know what you're trying to say. We've never met her. We only saw a vaguely-looking girl in green in the painting, but I have a feeling. Do you believe it, brother?"
"I don't think it's a feeling, it must be some other judgment. Don't you think so, Xiaohui?" said the old man.
"My name is Hui Zifeng. Call me Xiaofeng, Grandpa." Hui Zifeng couldn't tell if his judgment was based on feeling or evidence. It was all vague and chaotic. He was already a little overwhelmed.
"That's what worries my father. If the girl really survived, got married and had children, shouldn't we be happy? We must tell my father that at least one of our students survived," said Mr. Hitotsubashi.
The topic gradually became serious. Ming Yan changed the subject and casually pointed to a painting beside him and asked, "Senior, what does this painting want to express?"
Before this, Hui Zifeng had only glanced at it from a few meters away, thinking it was a landscape painting of horses strolling through a forest, and it didn't immediately draw him in. Now, standing right in front of the painting, he saw a completely different scene.
"Look, my disciple is disobedient. I told him not to take this out, but he took it out anyway." Mr. Yiqiao said to his brother behind him.
"This painting is a trend among young people. I don't understand it."
"This was painted by Yu Wei when she was in her twenties. In my opinion, it's a pure display of skill. But then again, it's really well-painted. Little girl, take a look at it from the front..."
A girl is seen gazing at a distant hilltop. Atop it stands a row of houses, one of which appears to be a temple. There's an inscription on the temple, but its contents are unclear. The girl's face is composed of irregular, blurry, shapeless yellow and green patterns. Depending on the angle, the face appears different. Like a sand pattern scattered by the wind.
"From the left..."
One horse stands at the foot of a hillside, another hidden in the forest. They appear far away, yet a slight change of angle makes them seem very close. The protagonist horse's eyes are like those of a fading hero who has endured a miserable half-life, staring ahead, hopeful yet not too hopeful, awaiting a certain outcome. Slowly approaching from the left, you'll see the horse's eyes shift, and the leaves above its head rustle in the wind...
"Stand on the right and watch..."
It depicts a group of people standing on a desolate landscape, gazing upwards. The edges of the painting appear to be candlelight on a tower. The lines that make up this group of people are so thin that they require a bit of eye strain to discern.
"There are subtle differences in the movements and expressions of these people," said Hui Zifeng.
"Why should I draw this?" Ming Yan thought, it couldn't be that there was no meaning to it, it was just to match the picture, this could only be the result.
"This was a dream of Yu Wei's. He couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined, so he painted all the confusing parts of his memory together, and from then on he felt free. Try it again, look at it from different angles. This painting has many more scenes, and you can feel the movement..."
"Chaos..." Hui Zifeng stared at the painting, his eyes shifting carefully, not wanting to miss a single detail. True to Mr. Ichihashi's words, this painting had many facets, meaning many stories. He felt a shock, his mind scrambled, his memories fragmented and pieced together. He imagined the story behind the scene, familiar with certain plot points, and he forcefully placed himself in the scene, chatting and laughing face to face with the characters.
So, in his lucid state, he made what wasn't his into his. He began to doubt what was his. He couldn't control it, couldn't help but believe it, couldn't judge it. He was a being broken apart and remade. By someone, by himself. He felt this process clearly unfolding, powerless to stop it, and exhausted by it. This process was undoubtedly painful, and no one could perceive his pain and transformation.
However, at this moment, a layman squeezed in. Because Mr. Ichihashi was explaining something, many people stopped to listen.
He was careless, shouting, looking for trouble as he came between Hui Zifeng and Ming Yan and said, "Is there some kind of prism hidden underneath?"
He leaned closer to the painting to search for evidence, but was somewhat disappointed. The audience did not show disgust towards this reckless young student, but rather felt a little grateful for his courage, which helped them to resolve their doubts. What kind of brushwork and ingenious design can transform a flat image into a multi-dimensional three-dimensional image?
"Hey, there are words here!"
"What word?" Ming Yan asked curiously.
"I don't recognize him."
Ming Yan leaned over to look, but couldn't find any symbols or anything like them. The onlookers grew bored and gradually dispersed. The two centenarians said they wanted to take Ming Yan to view other paintings. Hui Zifeng preferred solitude, so he said goodbye and left.
After watching the three people leave, the reckless student stayed beside Hui Zifeng, seemingly reluctant to leave.
"What are you doing here?" Hui Zifeng never had a good impression of this man. Even if he restrained his true feelings, some of them were still revealed in his tone.
Sensitive people will understand it immediately.
"You can come, but I can't." Song Shiwen couldn't help but roll his eyes, and when he realized it, he quickly greeted him with a warm face. After all, this person was a friend of the one who helped him. "Do you think this painting is weird?"
"What do you think is strange?" Hearing this, Hui Zifeng became serious, hoping that his next answer could save him from being broken.
"Evil thing." Song Shiwen whispered firmly, "I feel like it's hypnotic. I almost fainted after looking at it for too long. Ouch!"
Song Shiwen was startled for once. He had originally turned to look at Hui Zifeng for approval, but instead, a cute girl, as cute as a little mushroom, appeared between them.
She stared at him, curious, puzzled.
Hui Zifeng looked at her, attracted by her gaze, and watched calmly.
"Excuse me, am I blocking you?" Song Shiwen stepped aside, his attitude humble and kind. He was wearing a black printed vest and black jeans, white sneakers, and a strange silver chain around his neck, giving him an unruly aura.
Seeing this scene, Hui Zifeng deliberately sneered so that Song Shiwen could hear it.
"Be careful or I'll beat you up." Song Shiwen grinned and raised his fist to threaten.
Hui Zifeng rolled his eyes at him and ignored him, returning to his own gaze at the painting. He noticed the girl across from him had a bewildered expression on her face, looking at it from what others would consider an idiotic perspective, as if she were searching for something on the other side. Even Song Shiwen was speechless, and for once, he continued to talk to the girl, helping her appreciate the art.
"Sister, you can see four lines of words when you stand here. Do you want to try it?"
The girl was a little surprised. She smiled shyly and timidly walked over to stand in the position Song Shiwen had given up.
"You need to stand on tiptoe, yes, at this height, look up, do you see it?"
The girl glanced back at Song Shiwen, her expression clearly revealing something else. Was it admiration? It didn't seem like it. Was it someone they knew? It wasn't the kind of look that suggested a sense of intimacy. Could it be love at first sight? She'd really made a mistake.
"What does this mean?" The girl's face was a little shy and a little expectant.
"What does it mean? It doesn't mean anything," Song Shiwen said thoughtfully. "It feels like showing off your talent but failing to meet even the basic rules of poetry. Hey, don't tell anyone about this."
Song Shiwen whispered, glancing away to see if anyone might be eavesdropping. Luckily, no one was around, and he returned his gaze to meet Hui Zifeng's. The scrutiny in her eyes irritated him, and he immediately charged back provocatively, gloating over a few more words with the younger sister.
"I've seen these exact sentences in a book. I never thought, hehe, there are people who read that kind of book."
Song Shiwen's expression became more and more vulgar and unbearable to watch. Hui Zifeng couldn't bear it any longer and was about to leave when he saw the girl looking up pitifully and asked, "Can I ask your name?"
"My Name" Song Shiwen, immersed in the world of criticism, was interrupted by this sentence, like a cold wind pouring down on him. He just wanted to turn around and leave, looking for a warmer place. Out of courtesy, he politely replied, "I won't tell you."
"Is your surname Hui?" The girl opened her arms to block Song Shiwen who was eager to escape.
Hearing this, Hui Zifeng turned his head and looked into the distance. Because his last name was Hui.
"No." Song Shiwen turned cold, his face showing that he didn't want to pay attention to the other person. In the end, he was kind enough to point at Hui Zifeng and said, "His last name is Hui."
She looked at Hui Zifeng. Hui Zifeng looked at her. They were strangers, and their gazes, for three long seconds, felt no resonance. The girl apologized, turned around, and composed herself.
The two old men returned, following their vague memories from a long time ago. They stared at the girl's face, their expressions changing from uncertainty to disbelief. They disregarded etiquette and stretched out their hands to block her way. Worried about scaring the little girl, they asked gently and carefully, "Little girl, do you know Zhao Shuyan?"
The girl was unprepared for the two men's interruption and questioning, nor did she panic. She calmly shook her head in response, bowed her head in farewell, and took a detour. Then she saw another man, adjusting his glasses, staring at her for a long time. Although his eyes didn't contain any expectation, his expression was as determined as if he was determined to get something out of her.
But he walked over and didn't say anything to the girl. Instead, he helped to hold the wheelchair and said to the teacher, "You should go back and rest, teacher. You haven't had a good rest these days after traveling so long."
Hui Zifeng could clearly see the girl sigh with relief, her timidity and weakness vanishing. She suddenly became bright, beautiful, and striking. He glanced back at the painting that had shattered his mental world, then back at the girl, whose shattered world drifted further away. He felt they might share a common affliction, but reason told him not to conjure such a crazy, irrational idea.
"I seem to remember the name Zhao Shuyan." The old man behind Mr. Yiqiao reminisced, "Xiaoqiao, is she the little girl you mentioned in your autobiography who saved your life when you fell in the mountains and later lent you money for your journey?"
Zhao Yuwei urged again, stubbornly pushing the wheelchair back. Mr. Yiqiao said slowly, "Yuwei, look, does this female student look like the person in your painting?"
At this, Zhao Yuwei stopped moving and looked up at the painting. The female student Mr. Ichihashi had mentioned also looked at the painting. Hui Zifeng found it a bit strange: someone who said they resembled the person in the painting would naturally look at the painting to determine if it resembled them. As the artist, they should be familiar with their own paintings, so it would be appropriate to look at the person. Why did Mr. Zhao Yuwei stare at his own painting for a full minute, his face expressionless, his eyes calm? He was simply looking at the painting, the painting bringing no emotional change to him.
Song Shiwen, on the other hand, was winking and looking utterly embarrassed. He must have felt that the faces in the painting were too abstract and multidimensional, that they were so many different people, how could they possibly resemble just one person? This elder, a man of high status in the art world, was talking nonsense, but he was too embarrassed to point it out clearly.
In the end, Zhao Yuwei didn't even look at the girl. He continued to push the teacher back and said, "Teacher, even if I feel sorry, I think it's better not to cause trouble to others. Don't you agree?"
Watching the three people leave, the girl vaguely felt that the reason why the atmosphere between them became depressing was because of herself, and she felt a little guilty. The only person she could ask was Song Shiwen. She spoke to him without holding any grudges, and her face became more ingratiating.
“What are their regrets?”
Song Shiwen stared at the girl's face, observing her intently. Only then did he begin to seriously consider what Mr. Yiqiao and Teacher Zhao Yuwei had just done, and he found it strange. Could she be hiding some secret about them?
"What does it have to do with you?" Song Shiwen asked bluntly. He turned around and looked at the painting, his cynical face suddenly becoming humble.
"Well, I'm sorry to bother you. Goodbye."
After the girl walked away, Song Shiwen finally figured something out, and changed his previous attitude of wanting no one to approach him. Like a puppy abandoned by its owner, he strode after the girl. Hui Zifeng looked from a distance and saw that after the girl realized that Song Shiwen was chasing her, she didn't wait there, but turned around and ran away.
What are these two up to? Hui Zifeng was concerned about the four lines of words Song Shiwen had just mentioned. He hadn't found it yet, so what could it be? He stood where Song Shiwen had been, slightly bending his knees to adjust his height, tilting his head to adjust the angle, and shifting his field of vision little by little, as if searching for cells under a microscope.
"What are you doing?" In this magnificent exhibition hall filled with art and the upper class, Hui Zifeng's behavior was truly like that of a mentally retarded idiot. Ming Yan was truly humiliated.
Hui Zifeng locked the direction, stared blankly, and said to himself: "I saw it, it's a four-line poem. Worshiping the Magpie Bridge in Yunsheng Palace, whose husband is in front of Chaolai Pavilion. Deer riding the mountain god is not as kind as you, and the moon is not hidden in the coffin of Lion's roar." A little bit to the right, he saw the current Chaolai Pavilion and Lion's roar lane.
But why did Song Shiwen see it first?
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