Signposts hidden in famous paintings
"I searched for her everywhere for hundreds of times," but couldn't find even an inch of paper.
Hui Zifeng often heard his grandparents recount how, from a very young age, he'd been captivated by an obscure erhu solo. At three, he'd visited a collector's home and stared at a painting, refusing to leave, insisting on asking the owner who was in it. And when he went out, his attention was often drawn to things others might consider unremarkable. As he grew older, he realized the root of these behaviors and diligently sought the answers he sought. Once he achieved his goals, the heaviness and anxiety within him would naturally fade.
What was that goal? Despite repeated inquiries from those around him, Hui Zifeng knew he couldn't say it. If it were made public, many things would be completely erased through word of mouth, and Hui Zifeng was well aware of this.
The shop, called "Shan You Fu Su," operates like a traditional pawnshop. Originally, the second floor was Ming Yan's bedroom. Later, as she began to store everything, her inventory grew, and the second floor became a junkyard that would frustrate even the best organizers. However, the first floor, always kept minimalist and neat, has remained in its original state, as it is used for receiving guests.
It was Hui Zifeng's first time going upstairs, and everything around him felt unfamiliar. Looking at the increasingly outdated decoration, he felt depressed, yet also a little excited, as if returning to a long-lost home. Of course, it refers to a home suitable for his soul to reside in, not a house where he lives with his family in the real sense. The light on the stairs was very dim, and it was almost impossible to see the road under his feet. Looking out through the window, there was a drizzle of rain, and the rain and mist in the mountains were misty, and the mountain peaks appeared and disappeared. Hui Zifeng discovered that it was not a real window, but a glass craft disguised as a window. From different angles, you can see a variety of different mountain or sky scenes. If you listen carefully, you will find that those scenes come with their own dubbing: there is wind in the mountains, water in the streams, clouds surge, and immortals play music.
This thing, I'm afraid, is the only one in the world. If it were to be exhibited or auctioned... Hui Zifeng couldn't help but look back at Ming Yan. That innocent girl who was feasting on her meal wasn't actually what she seemed, right?
"What are you looking at?" Shuixi noticed that Hui Zifeng did not follow her. When she turned around, she saw him staring at Ming Yan. She lay on the railing and waited until Hui Zifeng's thoughts returned to going upstairs before she asked.
"A great hermit, hiding in plain sight. Could Ming Yan be a 'master'?" Hui Zifeng smiled, unwilling to elaborate. Did she know? Or didn't she? Guarding a priceless treasure, running a humble business on South Chongning Street, how did she survive? If someone with knowledge of the treasure came to her door and tried to deceive her, how would this fragile woman handle it?
Hui Zifeng asked Shuixi a question. Shuixi paused in his attempt to open the door, seemingly out of courtesy to his master. When a master asks a question, a servant should pause and answer carefully.
"How rare!" Shuixi gave a standard polite smile, "You actually take the initiative to want to understand others."
"Are you making fun of me?" Hui Zifeng thought of the words "cold-hearted by nature" again. Even Shuixi saw this in him all the time.
"Don't worry about it," Shuixi said, his words ambiguously, telling Hui Zifeng to forget about the monk's predictions or Ming Yan's predicament. Then he explained, "Being cold-hearted doesn't mean you're a bad person. It doesn't stop you from being helpful, right? You're a good person. If you could let go of these worries, you'd take a huge step forward in your life."
"What's the point of talking about philosophy?" Hui Zifeng teased, but inwardly he felt relieved: He was surrounded by good people. However, this knot in his heart wasn't something he could just let go of. After twenty years of life, ten years of obsession, even if he devoted himself to other things, forcing himself to live a life that went against his will for most of his life, there would always be moments when it became a loophole, and seeing those clues would still cause him to writhe in agony. This was the true knot in his heart.
As they were talking, Shuixi brought Hui Zifeng into a room.
"The boss also runs several pharmacies and is the founder of a famous clothing brand. This is just her place to rest. Oh, by the way, she's not the master, her father is. It's nice to find shade under a big tree, just like Ming Yan. I'm so envious, it's nice to find shade under a big tree."
If that's the case, she probably doesn't care and keeps saying "worthless." So what's the purpose of running this shop?
"How could a place like this not become prosperous?" This was something Hui Zifeng still didn't understand. It was only separated from the opposite block by a ditch, so even if it was related, it should receive some attention and be renovated.
Hui Zifeng no longer cared to listen to Shuixi's reply. He was captivated by everything in the room. It was like an underwater world, overflowing with wonder and wonder. Red, white, blue, green... among the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of items, dozens of different shades of red, blue, green, and yellow could be counted. Pearl tiaras, silk, velvet flowers, gilded dressing boxes, bronze vessels, ancient zithers made of precious wood, and bound books... not all were priceless, but each one was undeniably exquisite. The entire room was free of the slightest smell of decay, but instead permeated with a delicate fragrance, like the scent of gardenias or other plants in the air after a spring rain, enticing visitors to immerse themselves in it, reluctant to leave.
Shuixi turned around and said to Pride, "How is it? Do you have a desire to possess it for yourself?"
Hui Zifeng had no such intentions. He was no ordinary man; after examining each of these objects, he quickly zeroed in on his target. The large traditional Chinese painting he had just encountered hung in the center of the room, acting as a screen. It depicted a group of young men and women enjoying a springtime mountain outing. One girl, dressed in green, nestled among a cluster of red camellias, reached out to grasp something hidden among the branches. Seeing it years later, his heart still thrilled and excited as it had the first time, as if something within it resonated with a memory within him.
Why did he notice her? What made this girl different from the others? Even if others noticed the girl in green's uniqueness, they would simply say, "She stands taller, climbs faster than others, has better physical strength, and loves nature." These weren't the reasons Hui Zifeng found her special. Once upon a time, while passing by a small shop in a remote town, he was immediately drawn to the painting of the girl in green hanging on the doorway. It felt like searching for someone familiar for a long time and finally spotting their presence.
For someone you know well, you don't need to see his face, you don't need to look at his back, you don't need to listen to his voice, or the sound of his footsteps. When he approaches without any warning, you can immediately sense some kind of signal, telling you, it's him, he's coming.
In reality, her face wasn't clearly visible in the painting; the simple lines only captured the subject's spirit. Looking at the figure in the painting, Hui Zifeng felt only that on this sunny day, she was pure joy, for a reason that his eyes had seen at that moment. At a certain moment in an era, an ordinary person was happy. Grandiose and insignificant, intangible and unattainable. He thought it was this that captivated him, but later, he persistently asked the shopkeeper who this girl was. He wanted to know who this person was.
The old gentleman with a thick white beard looked up at the young man from the big city, puzzled by his question. Leaning on his cane, he walked over to the painting, leaned forward, and, leaning closer, reconfirmed the signature. Then, looking back at Hui Zifeng, he said, "My father painted this when he was in his twenties. These children were his students. The little girl in the green dress had the surname Zhao, but I've forgotten her first name."
Look, this painting is almost a hundred years old, and the painter's son actually remembered that the girl in the painting was named Zhao. Isn't that strange?
"Is it possible that anyone still knows more about her? Do you know where she is? Her family? Friends? Children?"
The old man was reminded of bad memories. He retreated to his desk as if to escape, picked up his brush, and after a long silence, he finally gave Hui Zifeng an answer, "No one was left. Not a single one was left. Just look at the time and you'll know what happened then."
A person who had died, leaving no descendants. Hui Zifeng later searched through the county annals, newspapers of the era, social records written by scholars, and letters left by painters, but all he could find was that the girl's surname was Zhao and that she had existed a hundred years ago.
Even with this clear understanding in his heart, Hui Zifeng still did not give up. He had a premonition that the ending of his story with the person in the painting and the love in the song would not be limited to this.
Shuixi opened the beaded curtain in front of a door behind the traditional Chinese painting and invited Hui Zifeng in. "It's over here. Don't worry. You won't see where the boss sleeps."
The items in the inner room were surprisingly well-arranged, but each item was connected by thin wires, and the slightest touch could cause the entire thing to shatter. Hui Zifeng walked carefully, but still managed to get his clothes caught on a nail on the wall.
"Don't move, I'll help you." Shuixi cut Hui Zifeng's pants without hesitation, leaving a fist-sized hole. "It's priceless, you can't afford to pay for it."
The so-called priceless items were a countryman's wooden basin, a necklace made of stones, a two-yuan red flower that children loved, a broken dressing table, a half-finished, stained sketch...it was clearly just a pile of junk. What on earth was Ming Yan doing? He collected both treasures and junk, and he kept the treasures outside and the junk inside.
"Some people's treasures are priceless, while others' treasures are worthless. Here, they are equal."
That's what she said, but it wasn't actually the case. Hui Zifeng thought it was easy to tell from the way the items were arranged. In Ming Yan's eyes, only priceless items had no collectible value; they were haphazardly piled together or hung on the wall as decoration. She considered the finest items to be placed in display cases, protected by glass to protect their aura from the erosion of time.
The house was so vast it resembled a maze. From the outside, one wouldn't have imagined such a vast expanse of space within. Hui Zifeng followed Shuixi through two doors and up a narrow staircase, finally arriving at an empty room. Moonlight filtered through the ceiling, illuminating the entire space with a gentle, poetic quality. Shuixi unnecessarily switched on the wall light.
A blinding white light suddenly descended from above. Hui Zifeng immediately closed his eyes and shielded them with his arms, waiting until he had adjusted to the sudden intense light before opening them again. He discovered that the light was unlike any ordinary lamp. Shuixi had already left.
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