Read Novel Full Chapter 152 Part 2 – A Scammer Who Uses Illness to Gain Sympathy (II)
Chapter 152 Part 2 – A Scammer Who Uses Illness to Gain Sympathy (II)
As more and more people came upstairs to greet them, those who had finished chatting gradually went back downstairs to view the exhibition.
Xiao Feng followed along with his senior brothers and sisters. Now that Zhu Yuanhai had begun setting expectations for him, appreciating artwork could no longer rely on feelings like it did when he was little. He had to be able to clearly articulate techniques and analysis.
Xia Mian didn’t understand any of that. She simply trailed behind them to join in the fun. But when she noticed they could stand in front of a single painting for a long time, it became unbearably dull. In the end, she slipped away to look around on her own.
Before long, she wandered into a corner and let out a long breath.
Although this was Ning Shaoyun’s first exhibition, her reputation was clearly impressive. In such a short time, the hall was already packed with people. Only this corner remained relatively quiet.
Because the works displayed here belonged to that “genius” teenage painter suffering from heart disease.
It seemed Qian Fa’s calculations had gone wrong.
Xia Mian didn’t understand painting. If she were to look at the piece in front of her on its own, she might even think it was decent. Placed alongside Ning Shaoyun’s works, however, the difference was simply too much.
No wonder Ning Shaoyun had said her exhibition wasn’t so easy to take advantage of. Forget about selling it, there were barely any viewers stopping to look.
Xia Mian felt a small sense of satisfaction. Ning Shaoyun had helped out for peace of mind, but it was never pleasant to have one’s goodwill exploited.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, hurried footsteps sounded behind her. She recognized them immediately as Xiao Feng’s. Turning with a smile, she saw him pick up speed the moment their eyes met. “Auntie!”
But he accidentally collided with a teenage boy. The boy stumbled back a couple of steps, nearly losing his footing, and Xia Mian quickly reached out to steady him by the arm.
She paused, startled. The arm beneath her hand was alarmingly thin.
Looking closer, she saw he couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen. His complexion was ashen, his body so frail it seemed a strong breeze might topple him. No wonder Xiao Feng had almost knocked him over.
“I’m sorry,” Xiao Feng quickly apologized. “Are you okay, big brother?”
Xia Mian added, “I’m sorry. How do you feel?”
The boy’s eyes were filled with gloom. He didn’t even glance at them. With his lips pressed tightly together, he pulled his arm free from Xia Mian’s hand and turned away without a word.
Xiao Feng stared at the boy’s retreating figure, looking a little at a loss. “Auntie…”
Xia Mian patted his head. “It’s alright. There are people in this world who don’t like to forgive. Just be more careful next time, okay?”
Afraid the child might feel upset, Xia Mian tugged him toward a nearby painting. “Have you seen this one?”
Sure enough, Xiao Feng’s attention was diverted. Tilting his head up, he read aloud, “Pure White Angel.”
As he continued to look, he suddenly reached out and grasped Xia Mian’s hand.
It was a small habit of his whenever he felt strong emotions—whether joy or sorrow. And now, it was clearly the latter.
Xia Mian couldn’t help but lift her head and study the painting carefully.
It depicted a little angel. Yet the angel’s hair, eyelashes, skin and everything else was pure white. Although the angel was beautiful, the use of color felt somewhat strange.
Xia Mian couldn’t make anything of it.
A large hand rested on Xiao Feng’s shoulder from behind, and someone said with a smile, “Although we don’t know why the artist chose this color scheme, the handling of light and shadow is actually quite good.”
Then he joked, “It just looks like the artist was a bit reluctant to use paint.”
Xiao Feng looked up. “Teacher.”
Zhu Yuanhai smiled. “Xiao Feng is about to start learning figure painting too. There are quite a few aspects of this piece that are worth studying.”
“I also think the paint was applied a bit sparingly. If it were layered more thickly, it might look even better.”
Sun Shuming stroked his chin thoughtfully. “It feels like the artist is trying to express some intense emotion, but the technical skill isn’t quite enough…”
Xiao Feng immediately nodded like a pecking chick. One of the senior sisters teased, “Maybe it’s your eyesight that isn’t sharp enough, Senior Brother. Look, our Xiao Feng can see it.”
Sun Shuming laughed. “Who can compare with Xiao Feng’s eye? Alright, guys, same old rule—whoever can beat Xiao Feng in this, I’ll treat you all to a big meal!”
“If you don’t want to pay, just say so. Don’t use Xiao Feng as your excuse!”
Everyone chatted cheerfully, and Xiao Feng soon forgot about what had happened earlier, trailing after his senior brothers and sisters toward the next painting.
Seeing his mood had recovered, Xia Mian said goodbye and decided to head out first, planning to pick him up again at noon. She had already looked through the twenty-some paintings in the exhibition; staying longer would only bore her.
Not wanting to disturb Ning Shaoyun in the upstairs lounge, she decided to wait for Ning Shaobai at a cafe across the street until noon.
As she passed a large tree by the roadside, she suddenly caught sight of the frail boy again. He was leaning against the tree, resting.
Soon, a young man brought over two bricks and placed them by the curb. “Sit here,” he said to the boy.
It was Qian Fa, the same man who had humbly begged for help that morning. But now he looked completely different, chest puffed out arrogantly. “We’re going to strike it rich this time!”
“I only just found out how impressive that Teacher Qingyun is. Even though this is her first exhibition, a lot of people are already preparing to collect her work.”
“One of her paintings sold at auction for 850,000 four years ago. And these are the first batch of works she created after changing her mindset—extremely valuable for collection. I bet each one will start at a million.”
The boy suddenly said, “Didn’t you say you had connections helping you? Your connections didn’t know Teacher Qingyun was this impressive?”
Qian Fa paused for a moment, “So what if I didn’t ask? I just handed over the painting, and he said he’d arrange it. I only realized something was unusual today when I saw how many people showed up, so I asked around and found out. What’s wrong with that?”
The boy lowered his head and said nothing.
Qian Fa didn’t seem to care. He continued excitedly, “My god, today’s crowd is almost as big as what some places get in a whole week. With your painting hanging there, maybe someone with a sharp eye will spot it and spend a hundred thousand or so to buy it.”
He burst into laughter first, then added more realistically, “Even if it doesn’t sell, it doesn’t matter. It’s displayed alongside Teacher Qingyun’s works. Take it to any other gallery, someone would certainly buy it for three to five thousand.”
The boy remained silent, gloom filling his eyes.
“Almost forgot,” Qian Fa said, pulling a water-filled glass jar from his coat. He then took out a folded paper packet and handed it over. “Time for your medicine. Hurry and take it while the water’s still warm, or it’ll get cold.”
Expressionless, the boy accepted the packet, opened it, and poured more than a dozen pills into his mouth at once. As if stubbornly competing with something, he didn’t even drink water, chewing them all dry.
Even Xia Mian felt the bitterness for him and couldn’t help frowning.
Over there, Qian Fa hurriedly handed him the jar. “Are you crazy? Don’t choke yourself to death taking medicine. Drink some water!”
Seeing the boy take the water and begin swallowing the pills, Qian Fa muttered, “Those two draft pieces of yours could’ve been sold too.”
“Rich people hold charity auctions from time to time. In those places, nobody cares whether the work is good or not—they just compare who has more money.”
“I’ve got a buddy who deals with that kind of thing. If he handles it, even splitting the money fifty-fifty, we’d still make eight or ten thousand.”
The boy suddenly began coughing violently, his pale face flushing red. He glared at Qian Fa. “The drafts are not for sale!”
“Fine, fine! Not for sale!” Qian Fa quickly patted his back. “I was just saying it. Why get so worked up?”
When the boy continued glaring, Qian Fa changed the subject. “Then hurry up and paint the next one.”
“Next month, a rising young artist is holding a solo exhibition at Shili Gallery. I can get you a spot there too.”
The boy lowered his eyes. “What, do you have connections at that gallery too?”
Qian Fa puffed out his chest arrogantly. “Come on. I’ve been around here for three years. With my smooth skills, there isn’t a place in this area where I don’t have connections.”
“Don’t worry. If you can paint it, I can get it arranged.”
The boy suddenly tilted his head back and gulped down the rest of the water, swallowing the remaining bits of medicine. He stood up, glanced in the direction of the gallery, and walked away without hesitation.
Qian Fa seemed used to his unpredictable temper and wasn’t surprised. He only called after him, “Don’t run around. Go straight home!”
Watching the boy’s retreating figure, Xia Mian sighed quietly. She had never experienced counting down the days of her own life, and she had no right to judge his choices.
Some people would rather die than give up their dignity, even if only for a single day. Others would abandon their dignity just to keep living.
She didn’t know which was right and which was wrong.
Just when Xia Mian thought they were merely a fleeting encounter, she didn’t expect to see the boy again before long.
And this time, he was using Xiao Feng.
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