My heart jolted.
The most… successful work?
I slowly moved my gaze towards the painting and landed on the figure of Tunshe Nalin. My heart started to race, and that figure seemed to draw closer from the painting, as if it were about to step out of the canvas itself.
Flutter…
The sound of bird wings flapping seemed to come towards me, accompanied by a flute sound like an eagle’s cry. I took a step back, and with a “whoosh”, a piece of plastic sheet suddenly covered the painting.
Cheng Wan carefully took the painting off the easel and held it in her arms, fearing that I would tear it up like before if I was not satisfied with it. Her face was full of urgency and ecstasy: “I’ll have it framed and sent to the organizer of the art exhibition. This painting will definitely be the highlight of the show. My dear Abmer, promise me that if you still have inspiration, you’ll create two more pieces before the exhibition, alright?”
I was speechless for a moment, not knowing how to respond to her. I watched her leave with the painting in her arms. Then I remembered that Ming Luo was still hiding somewhere in the house. Given his mood just now, I didn’t know what would happen if I continued to be alone with him.
“Wait… wait until I call the bodyguard over before you leave.”
I had the bodyguard search every corner of the house, turning everything upside down, even checking the wardrobe and under the bed, but there was no sign of Ming Luo.
“Are you sure Mr. Ming was really here just now?” Cheng Wan looked at me with concern, clearly worried about my mental state. I nodded and looked at the bodyguard. “You were in the surveillance room earlier, didn’t you see anyone leave my house?”
The bodyguard opened his phone and looked for a few minutes before shaking his head firmly.
“No one left your house, Young Master. Moreover, this part is a bit strange. Take a look. Who were you talking to at that time?”
I took his phone and saw a video of Irene and me sitting in a wheelchair. In the footage, the door to my house was slightly ajar, and both of us were looking inside, seemingly talking to someone. However, there was nothing inside the door. At that moment, Ming Luo had clearly been there.
A sudden chill crept up my spine.
…Could it be that I was seeing things?
The thought made me shudder, a cold chill spreading over my body.
—The Ming Luo who spent the night with me was… was he a ghost?
My hair stood on end as I looked at the bodyguard. “You… don’t leave. Stay here tonight.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Should I call Xiang Nan over?” Cheng Wan asked with concern.
“I’m not mentally ill, I’m perfectly fine!” I snapped at her, sitting down on the sofa, feeling both fearful and frustrated. “Just go, I have the bodyguard here. Don’t call Xiang Nan, he’s no longer my doctor.”
After playing two games with my bodyguard while sitting on the sofa, I finally recovered a little. I heard a ding and picked up my phone, only to find a WeChat message popped up.
“Did you receive the item?”
It was Mo Wei. I just remembered the package I had put on the shoe cabinet. He sent it? So soon? I opened the package and found a jar inside. The jar was filled with soil and smelled muddy. There was a small wooden doll stuck inside, with black runes and words painted on its face, which I couldn’t understand. This is…
There was another ding sound, and I clicked on his dialog box.
“That’s a puppet made of wood struck by lightning and the fire and soil from my friend’s Taoist temple. The talisman is used to ward off evil spirits. Put it under the bed, and you will be immune to all evil.”
Having just run into Ming Luo’s ghost, I didn’t dare to disobey and quickly stuffed the jar under the bed.
I’m not sure if it’s because the things Mo Wei sent actually worked or if it was because the bodyguard was around, making the place feel safer, but the next day and night passed peacefully. Despite the strong urge to paint, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the brush. I feared that if I did, I would end up painting Tunshe Nalin, and if that happened, he would ensnare my soul and bind me to him for all eternity.
The next morning, I woke up early before Cheng Wan came to pick me up.
Today was the day the YICCA International Art Festival would begin.
YICCA is an exhibition and competition for artists worldwide, holding significant influence in both domestic and international art circles. This was the second time YICCA was held in the country, and four years ago, I gained fame by exhibiting a painting I created for Ming Luo. Three months ago, I received an invitation from YICCA’s official team, which was a great honor. However, at that time, due to the loss of Ming Luo, I was deeply trapped in a creative block and had even considered turning down the invitation. It was Cheng Wan who firmly kept control of my email and wouldn’t let me act impulsively.
Honestly, I wasn’t that concerned with success or glory, but I did care deeply about whether I could surpass myself. I genuinely wanted to know, after a year of stagnation, if I had achieved the enlightenment Cheng Wan spoke of. Would my new work, created under such confusion and doubt, truly surpass my past creations in this new YICCA event, four years after the last one?
I hope the answer is yes, but at the same time, I fear that it is.
With a nervous heart, I got into the car and took an anti-anxiety pill, slowly managing to calm myself.
Today, the sky in Jiangcheng is overcast, gray, and dim. It’s winter, and although it’s already morning, the sky remains dark. I checked the weather forecast, and it’s going to snow heavily in the afternoon.
After passing through the cross-river tunnel and reaching the old concession area on the riverbank, one can spot the large, seashell-shaped outline of the convention hall made of raw concrete from a distance.
It was only 8 AM, and the line of visitors at the spiraling entrance of the convention hall was already packed. As we drove past the front plaza toward the artist exhibition parking lot, Cheng Wan suddenly sighed with a smile, pointing outside to show me. “Wow, Abmer, look, you’ve been gone for a year, but you still have so many fans and they’re so enthusiastic.”
I looked in the direction she pointed, and sure enough, I saw a large group of people gathered in the square, with a few leading individuals holding up a giant photo poster of me. I couldn’t help but frown. I had never done any commercial photoshoots, and I never wanted my appearance to be a factor in the recognition of my artwork. But things didn’t go as I wished. Ever since the last YICCA art exhibition, whenever I held a solo show, there was always a group of people who came, not for the paintings, but for something else.
“Contact the lawyer. That’s a photo taken without my consent. You don’t care about it, but seem quite happy as well?”
“That’s not a shot without consent, it’s merchandise I released,” Cheng Wan said with a smile. “Abmer, you’ve been off the radar for a year, so I’m just trying to maintain your popularity.”
I stayed there in disbelief for a moment, a surge of anger rising from the depths of my heart. “Stop the car!”
“Abmer!” Cheng Wan quickly caught up with me, as if afraid that my angry expression would be caught on camera. She handed me sunglasses and shoved a mask at me. “Watch your image! This is the international art exhibition, and you’re a special guest judge. The attention is massive!”
I was seething with anger. I grabbed the sunglasses and mask from her hands, took a deep breath, and said, word by word, “I am an artist, not a celebrity. I don’t rely on my looks to make a living. Cheng Wan, if you ever do something like this again, our working relationship is over.”
Seeing that I was genuinely angry, Cheng Wan quickly apologized. Cheng Wan was my senior from university, and over the years, our collaboration had always been smooth, with a strong mutual understanding. Her work and management skills were exceptional, so it would be impossible to say I didn’t feel any affection for her. Despite my bad temper, I had never shown any hostility toward her, even during the worst year of my life, this was the first time. Not wanting to make things worse for her, I put on my mask and said, “I don’t care what methods you use, just deal with those people holding my photos. I don’t want to see them inside.”
“Hey, Abmer!”
As soon as I entered the exhibition hall, a tall figure with blonde hair and blue eyes stepped forward and embraced me, greeting me with two warm kisses on the cheek. Recognizing who it was, I froze for a moment, then patted his back and laughed out loud. “Leo! What brings you to Jiangcheng?”
“I joined the European International Art Alliance and am involved in curating this YICCA,” he said in slightly broken Mandarin. “Originally, I didn’t plan on coming, but when I heard you were coming, I decided to come over for the business trip. Florence is so far from Jiangcheng.”
Leo was a senior I met during my time studying in Florence, and seeing him again made me feel as though I had returned to those crazy student days dedicated to art. I remembered the nights we spent wandering through the ancient landmarks of Florence, staying up all night painting. My mind cleared, and the anger from earlier melted away.
When he led me into the exhibition hall holding my hand, I was immediately stunned by the masterpieces from global artists displayed on every wall and surface. I looked at them carefully with a pilgrim heart.
At a glance, I saw the most prominent position in the hall, where a huge painting was covered with red velvet. Whose work could it be to receive such treatment? I looked around but couldn’t find my own painting, and my heart began to race uncontrollably.
It can’t be, right…
“Yo, who could this be?”
While I was searching for my own painting, a cold, airy voice floated over from behind me.
I turned towards the sound and saw a tall man with pink-dyed hair, wearing long tassel earrings that reached his shoulders, standing not far away. His seductive appearance and the smile he flashed at me caught my attention.
My eyelids twitched, and I narrowed my eyes: “Qing Ze?”
“Long time no see, Qin Ran.” He grinned, not hiding the malice in his eyes as he glanced around. “I don’t see your painting anywhere. Oh, I heard your muse passed away. Is it true that you’ve become useless now?”
I said nothing, quietly staring at him.
This vicious guy is a half-Japanese, half-Chinese mixed-blood, my university roommate, and also gay. We shared the same s*xual orientation, had similar painting skills at the time, and lived in the same dorm. We could have been friends, at least, but by coincidence, the person he liked confessed to me. Then, during the school’s art competition, I won over him, causing him to lose the opportunity to study abroad in Italy. After that, this guy started giving me trouble every few days, splattering water on my bed, ruining my art supplies, and spreading rumors that I sold my body, and that was just the beginning. But the last straw was when he destroyed my graduation project in the middle of the night. I caught him red-handed, and I lost all patience. I ended up beating him up right then and there, leaving him with a minor bone fracture. I almost got arrested because of it.
From then on, the grudge was formed. Every time I held a solo art exhibition, he would either squeeze into the same exhibition hall as me or insist on holding it at the same time. People who didn’t know would think that we had a good relationship, but in fact, he just wanted to challenge me.
After Ming Luo’s death, during the year I fell into despair, Qing Ze quickly rose to fame, becoming the most talked-about figure in the southern art scene. His popularity grew to the point where it started to overshadow mine.
During that time, I was in a state of depression and had never paid much attention to him. However, when I held my “Funeral” series exhibition, Qing Ze did something so disgusting that it still makes me sick just thinking about it. He brought along a self-proclaimed art collector, a wealthy Hong Kong auction house owner, who offered eight million to buy my painting. But along with the check, he also sent a box of thong underwear and a hotel room key.
I was so disgusted at that moment that I nearly punched both that boss and Qing Ze at the exhibition. If it weren’t for Cheng Wan and the security guards stopping me, I probably would have caused a scene that could have ended in violence at my own art exhibition already.
