The Art of Teasing - Chapter 27

Chapter 27

After finishing her inspection of the studio, she returned to her office, brewed a pot of tea in her thermal cup, gathered the documents needed for the meeting, and headed to the conference room.

Aside from the usual departmental updates, this meeting focused on the progress of the winter auction and the upcoming joint exhibition for several promising painters the following month. Naturally, the external publicity would not label them as "promising painters"—the exhibition's theme, operational direction, and procedures all required discussion during the meeting.

With the promotional efforts from the grand opening and the success of the autumn auction, the studio's reputation had already been firmly established locally and had gained a degree of recognition in other provinces. The studio's strong publicity, reasonable pricing, and consistent payment without delays meant many young painters were willing to sell their work directly to the studio or consign their paintings for sale through it. Over the past few months, the studio had accumulated a substantial inventory of artwork far exceeding what could be sold through normal daily operations, leading to overstock.

When she first opened the studio, Wen Li had told her that overstock meant tied-up capital and increased risk. If she wanted the studio to maintain healthy operations, she needed to strictly control the inventory.

The studio's inventory was cleared every three months. If stock exceeded acceptable levels, they had to find ways to reduce it.

These paintings ranged in price from several hundred to several tens of thousands of yuan. They were not quite suitable for auction, but they were perfect for holding exhibitions and selling directly to the public. This exhibition happened to coincide with the Winter Cultural Fair—an exceptionally rare opportunity.

Midway through the meeting, Wen Zhengyu received a call from Zhan Cheng.

Zhan Cheng reported that not long after the police had left, the antique shop owner had sent an assistant to buy fruit and floral baskets. Shortly thereafter, the owner and two assistants had left carrying two cases containing antique items—one large, one small—and at that moment, they were just arriving at the hospital building where Old Master Wen was admitted.

Wen Zhengyu said, "Alright, I know. You should go upstairs and see my grandfather too."

Zhan Cheng responded, "Okay."

Wen Zhengyu hung up and continued the meeting, which ran until noon before adjourning.

She walked to and from work every day and did not need a car on a daily basis. When she did need one, she would call Li Bin to arrange a pickup, settling the bill at the end of the month based on usage time. Li Bin had a family to support and could not rely solely on chauffeuring her; he juggled driving assignments for several different organizations. When she called him, Li Bin was in the middle of taking someone to the airport and had not yet returned, so he could not come to pick her up. She had no choice but to hail a taxi herself to the hospital.

It was raining that day, a steady, drizzling gloom, and people attempting to hail cabs were everywhere. Even the ride-hailing apps could not secure a car.

Wen Zhengyu stood by the roadside holding an umbrella, waiting for over twenty minutes. She finally spotted an available taxi approaching and was just raising her hand to flag it down when a middle-aged woman beside her shot forward with the speed of an arrow, launched herself to the taxi door, and blocked the entrance with a body type that could easily match two of Wen Zhengyu combined. The woman looked back, waving and shouting to a younger woman and a child, "Hurry up, hurry up, I grabbed us a taxi."

Wen Zhengyu stared at the woman in stunned disbelief and truly wanted to ask her: Where is the etiquette? Where is the sense of order? We queue.

She stood there, dazed, watching as this family of three boarded the taxi and left.

Wen Zhengyu shook her head faintly. Faced with such a person, what could she do? Go fight her physically, or start a shouting match? She was incapable of either.

A sedan slowly pulled up and stopped in front of her. The rear door pushed open, and Ye Ling leaned out. "Where are you headed? I'll give you a ride."

Wen Zhengyu said, "Thanks, but no need. I'll hail a cab."

Ye Ling leaned further out, scanning the crowd of people trying to hail taxis to the right, then glanced toward the nearby bus stop.

This taxi stand was right next to the bus stop for the tourist attraction—a tourist-heavy district where foot traffic from the adjacent commercial area converged. Cars were plentiful, but so were people, and on a rainy day, it would not be easy for Wen Zhengyu to catch a cab.

Ye Ling said, "Going to the hospital to see Old Master Wen, right? I happen to be heading that way. Let me give you a lift—don't keep the old gentleman waiting anxiously."

Something was going on with Old Master Wen, and Wen Zhengyu would not feel at ease until she checked on him personally. At this time and in this location, getting a taxi was indeed extremely difficult. She had no choice but to fold her umbrella and get in the car, saying to Ye Ling, "Thank you."

Ye Ling handed her a towel.

Wen Zhengyu took the towel and wiped the moisture off her body.

It was raining, the air was damp, and the wind by the lake was strong. Even with an umbrella, there was no blocking the sideways-driving drizzle. Having stood by the roadside for a somewhat extended period, her clothes had collected a layer of moisture. Fortunately, it was already late autumn, and her clothing was thick enough that the dampness had not yet seeped through to her skin.

Wen Zhengyu wiped the water from herself and was about to fold the towel neatly to return it to Ye Ling when she suddenly caught sight of the Kunlun Art Studio logo embroidered on one corner. She paused involuntarily, then remembered that cars normally only carried cleaning rags or paper tissues.

She unfolded the towel, saw the embroidered design on it, and confirmed that it was from the batch of towels she had custom-ordered. To convey the studio's sense of refinement, even the towels in the restrooms had been specially commissioned. This batch of towels was of excellent quality—the surface not only displayed the logo but also featured an embroidered tableau of the Kunlun Art Studio framed by the scenic lake and mountain landscape, and some had been distributed as small gifts. The towel Ye Ling had given her was brand new, evidently just unwrapped and unused—very possibly something Ye Ling had just picked up from the logistics department.

Ye Ling saying she was heading that way and offering a lift to the hospital—that, she could believe. But making a detour to pick up a towel specifically to offer someone a ride?

The taxi stand was visible from both her office and Ye Ling's. She strongly suspected that Ye Ling had seen her standing there trying to hail a cab and had deliberately come to pick her up.

Wen Zhengyu did not wish to be overly suspicious or to overthink, but Ye Ling's actions made it very difficult not to.

She folded the towel and returned it to Ye Ling, momentarily at a loss for words.

The car was very quiet. Ye Ling said nothing, and Dong Yuan drove in silence.

Wen Zhengyu turned to look back but did not see the car carrying Ye Ling's bodyguard and secretary following them. If Ye Ling was simply giving her a ride to the hospital—picking her up at the roadside and dropping her off at the hospital before returning to the studio—then indeed, there was no need for the bodyguard and secretary to accompany her. Dong Yuan alone sufficed.

Wen Zhengyu turned her gaze back toward the car window, watching the raindrops strike the glass and be swept aside by the wind, her thoughts drifting.

Many people had come into her life claiming to like her, or demonstrating an interest in getting closer. But whether that liking was genuine or not, and what kind of liking it was, could be discerned from a person's eyes and sensed through the intangible atmosphere, aura, and chemistry between two people. As for all those who had appeared around her, with a single glance she could tell they were not compatible with her. Among them, there had been no shortage of excellent people who genuinely liked her, but what the other party wanted and what she wanted were not the same.

Some wanted an outstanding wife. Some wanted a partner with good physical attributes who could also spare them twenty years of struggle. Some were attracted to her as a person and wanted to marry her so she could become a virtuous wife and devoted mother.

What she wanted was to paint quietly alone, or to have someone accompany her, painting quietly together.

As for love, she had seen her grandfather and grandmother's lifelong devotion, supporting each other through all trials. She had also heard the story of Mr. Wen Shiyi, the tale of a gifted scholar and a beautiful lady.

Mr. Wen Shiyi was debonair and elegant, talented and good-looking, proficient in chess, qin, calligraphy, painting, poetry, and song. With her mother, there had once been a beautiful romance—a storied match of the gifted scholar and the beautiful lady.

Twenty-six years ago, on the day she was born, a cold, rainy winter day, Mr. Wen Shiyi—this gifted scholar—had quarreled with his wife, who was nine months pregnant. He stormed off in a fit of anger, and his wife fell in the courtyard, her blood pooling across the entire yard…

She had been pulled from her mother's womb by doctors after her mother had died…

That is how feelings are in this world. When they bloom, they are all beautiful. But what kind of fruit they will bear is difficult to predict, impossible to foresee.

Ye Ling had feelings for her. But she could not read Ye Ling, could not understand what it was that Ye Ling sought, and she had no intention of delving deeply into what Ye Ling was thinking.

The car arrived at the hospital and drove right up to the entrance of the building where Old Master Wen was hospitalized before stopping.

Wen Zhengyu opened her umbrella and got out. Before closing the car door, she very sincerely said to Ye Ling, "CEO Ye, thank you."

Ye Ling lifted her eyes to look at Wen Zhengyu, nodded gently, and said softly, "Bye-bye."

Wen Zhengyu closed the car door and turned to walk into the building.

She pushed open the door to the Old Master's hospital room. She did not see Sun Yuan; only Zhan Cheng was there, helping the Old Master pack up his belongings. On the coffee table sat fruit and floral baskets, and on the cabinet beside it were two elegantly crafted boxes—one large, one small.

She asked in astonishment, "What's this? Discharge?"

Old Master Wen said, "Two days in the hospital, and I'm practically growing mold. The doctor said I can be discharged." As he spoke, he even flourished his arm to project a sense of vigor.

Wen Zhengyu observed that the Old Master's complexion had indeed improved considerably and that his spirits were high, so she did not object to him leaving the hospital.

Sun Yuan completed the discharge procedures, then brought the discharge paperwork to Wen Zhengyu as the immediate family member to sign, and with that, the Old Master's discharge was finalized.

The Old Master wanted to carry the large brocade box himself.

Wen Zhengyu feared that with the rain making the ground slick, the Old Master might slip and fall. If the item broke, she could grit her teeth and manage to pay for it, but if the Old Master fell or suffered another shock, that was a far greater concern. She hurriedly took it from him and said, "You carry the small one."

They loaded the items into the car and drove home without a word along the way.

It was only then that Wen Zhengyu opened the box to examine the antique that had shocked the Old Master so badly he ended up hospitalized.

To her eye, the Qianlong blue-and-white lotus vase with the Eight Auspicious Symbols was genuine this time. Judging by its condition, at the price of 9.8 million yuan the old man had paid, making a profit on the resale should be no problem.

She opened the other brocade box and found inside a pair of imperial wine cups from the Guangxu period. Because the Guangxu period was relatively recent and also affected by the political turmoil of that era, antiques from that time generally did not command very high prices. However, these cups were a pair and of imperial manufacture, so their price would not be low.

Reflecting on the chain of events—from the Old Master being shocked into hospitalization, to the three-way maneuvering over the past two days—Wen Zhengyu could only silently marvel at how swift both the antique shop owner and Ye Ling had been. Here she was still trying to figure out what was going on, and they had already finished their battle.

Old Master Wen gave her the pair of Guangxu imperial famille rose cups.

She asked the Old Master to help her convert them into cash on her behalf. Ye Ling had done her such a tremendous favor; she needed to choose a suitable gift and visit her to properly express her thanks.

In the antiques trade, once a seller was lined up and the items had been examined, the turnover was actually very fast.

She had finished lunch with Old Master Wen and was just about to head out to work when the buyer arrived.

The buyer was extraordinarily decisive: inspected the goods, verified authenticity, paid the money, personally packed up the Qianlong blue-and-white lotus vase along with the pair of famille rose cups—which he purchased together and paid for in the same transaction—and left. The entire process was as fluid as drifting clouds and flowing water, without the slightest hesitation. Aside from a few perfunctory pleasantries, there was not a single word of unnecessary small talk.

With money now in his account, the Old Master, in a very pleased mood, promptly transferred a sum to her.

Wen Zhengyu silently accepted the money. The proceeds from the sale of the famille rose cups would have to go toward selecting a thank-you gift for Ye Ling. The six hundred thousand yuan the Old Master had given her was far from enough to cover the interest Ye Ling had deducted, plus Zhan Cheng's operating expenses. To repay her debt to Ye Ling and retrieve the bangle, she was still short by over a hundred thousand yuan. Wen Zhengyu could not very well go to Ye Ling and say: I'll repay you over six million first, and the remaining hundred-something thousand, can I pay that in monthly installments? Since I've already paid the interest anyway, I'll just leave the bangle as collateral and owe it for a year.

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