The old man’s praise of Jiang Yu wasn’t really believed by the others. They all knew him too well. This old fellow was incredibly protective of his students. In his eyes, his own disciples were always “the best in the world,” so who knew how much bias was mixed into his words? Genius wasn’t omnipotent, after all. A genius couldn’t necessarily do everything.
Seeing the expressions on their faces, the old man grew irritated. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, “My A-Yu really is a genius. Remember that Feitian painting that went viral on Weibo? That was painted by my A-Yu!”
As an older man, he wasn’t actually good with electronics, much less things like Weibo. But Jiang Yu’s Feitian had practically taken the internet by storm, so much so that even in the real world, heavyweights in the art and calligraphy world were murmuring about who this mysterious [A Fleeting Dream] really was.
A newcomer?
Impossible. How could a newcomer produce such a painting? It had to be some great master using a pseudonym, or at least someone who had studied painting and calligraphy for years, suddenly stepping into the limelight. But definitely not some youngster.
After Teacher Shen mentioned this commotion, the old man naturally grew interested. He spent a whole day scrolling through Weibo, liking every post that praised Jiang Yu, and puffing up his beard and glaring whenever he saw a hater. By now, one could say he had mastered Weibo like a pro.
“Look, look, this is Feitian. Isn’t it stunning?” He proudly pulled the picture up from his phone’s album. “I dare say, this is the most breathtaking piece of work to appear in recent years. A-Yu has an extraordinary gift for colour. The combinations and contrasts in this piece are absolutely brilliant. I plan to have her submit it to the Spring Colour Exhibition in March.”
Even though it was just a photo, the brilliance and beauty of Feitian still radiated through the screen; an intoxicating dazzle, the sheer charm of colour.
Old Sun already knew Jiang Yu had painted this piece. He had been astonished back then, and even now, he couldn’t help but marvel again, “This child’s hands, how can they produce something like this at such a young age? Truly remarkable. The Colour Exhibition is perfect for her. She’s got the skill, the strength; keeping her hidden is a waste. Right now, our country hardly has any young painters stepping into the spotlight, especially in traditional Chinese painting. This Spring Exhibition is just the chance for her to make a name for herself.”
The old man nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. Put this painting in the exhibition, and it won’t lose to anyone’s. And it’s not just this piece. Her oil painting is excellent, too. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not exaggerating!”
But Old Sun and the others remained doubtful. After all, Old Cui was famous for bragging about his disciples. His words always needed a discount.
Feeling helpless, the old man pulled out his trump card. “A-Yu knows the Yipei painting technique. As far as I know, only Weiner from S-country and John from M-country use it… Do you really think her oil paintings could be poor?”
That made the others pause, genuinely considering.
“I’ve got one of her oil paintings here, too. Come, take a look—this one: Starry Sky. See? This one was displayed in Xiaoyu’s gallery and sold for two million!” The old man had carefully saved photos of all Jiang Yu’s works, so naturally he was able to pull it up right away.
Teacher Yang, being most skilled in oil painting, was given space by the others to take a closer look. As he studied the picture, he suddenly snatched the phone from the old man’s hand and examined it intently.
Seeing his reaction, the others exchanged glances. They could already guess the answer.
The old man, smug, said: “See? I wasn’t lying, was I? A-Yu’s oil paintings are truly outstanding. Her gouache and watercolour are excellent as well. Lately she’s even been experimenting with tape-painting, which looks pretty refreshing too.”
Old Yang took a deep breath. Suddenly, he turned and grabbed Jiang Yu’s hand, his expression deadly serious. “I’ve realised it—you are the disciple destined for me.”
Jiang Yu: “…”
The others: “…”
The old man scratched his head and said to Jiang Yu, “If you really want to study oil painting, following Old Yang would be a great choice…”
He knew Jiang Yu’s aspirations weren’t confined to one discipline. If she only had average talent, he would have advised her to focus on just one. But since she clearly had the ability to excel in both, how could he bear to limit her future?
Still…
“To master two disciplines means double the time and effort. If you truly want to learn both, and to learn them well, you must be prepared. Neither Old Yang nor I are soft-hearted. This is something you must think through carefully!” The old man’s tone grew stern.
Hearing this, Jiang Yu also grew more serious. She replied, “I’ve already decided. Whether it’s Chinese painting or oil painting, I want to learn, and I want to master both. If I fail, you can beat me with a stick.”
The old man glanced at the others, and then his face broke into a smile.
“Good, good, good! Who would have thought the two of you would one day share the same student.” Old Lin chuckled and turned to Jiang Yu. “Little A-Yu, we don’t have wine here, but we do have tea. Offer your masters a cup of tea. Once you serve them the tea, they’ll officially be your teachers.”
Jiang Yu immediately knelt, kowtowed twice to each of them, called them “Master,” and presented the tea.
“Ah, from now on, you’re no longer just my student!” The old man sighed dramatically as he accepted and drank the tea, like a child sulking despite his age.
Even Old Yang, who was usually strict and unsmiling, couldn’t help but let a rare softness creep onto his face. He had been searching for a talented disciple for a long time. Now that he had truly found one, how could his heart not rejoice?
That day, Cui Mingzhu had been happily playing with her sisters outside. When she came back and saw the elders, she greeted each with a sweet “Grandpa.” Then she sat beside Jiang Yu. But after a while, something felt off.
“Jiang Yu, why are you calling Grandpa Yang your teacher?” she asked.
Old Sun laughed. “Mingzhu, you don’t know yet, do you? Just now, little A-Yu bowed and formally acknowledged Old Yang as her teacher. From today on, she’s not just your grandpa’s disciple, but also your Grandpa Yang’s disciple.”
Cui Mingzhu froze, then after a pause blurted: “Huh?”
She knew all too well; whether it was her own grandfather or Grandpa Yang, both were towering figures in the painting and calligraphy world. The only difference was that one specialised in traditional Chinese painting, the other in oil painting. But whichever it was, their status was absolute.
And now they were telling her that Jiang Yu had become the disciple of both? That was just too heaven-defying. Being the student of either one would already be incredible. But both? Jiang Yu was holding two golden tickets!
Cui Mingzhu digested the fact and said to Jiang Yu: “You’re seriously amazing!”
Jiang Yu smiled a little shyly. She felt she really was lucky. In her previous life, she could be said to have been self-taught, learning painting from various teachers at the university without ever having one dedicated mentor. But this time around, she not only had a teacher, she actually had two right from the start. If word of this got out, it would probably shock a lot of people.
She took a deep breath. Jiang Yu was actually a little excited, though it wasn’t obvious from her expression.
Because of this, even on her way back she felt as if her steps were floating, with a constant sense of unreality. Tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, she simply got up, pulled out her oil paints, and started fiddling with them again.
Other people might spend their free time watching videos or listening to music, but Jiang Yu just loved to tinker with paints. Of course, in others’ eyes, this was a bit of a waste. Especially considering the paints she used weren’t cheap. Her favourite brand was Rong Yan, which was truly excellent and well-reputed. The only downside being that it was too expensive.
But Jiang Yu wasn’t short of money now. That painting Starry Sky sold for two million, of which she personally got over one million. Then Shen Zhiwei gave her three hundred thousand, Zhaojun Departs for the Frontier sold for another five hundred thousand, and just recently she’d sold a peony painting to the one named Fu Gui. Jiang Yu did the math and realised she was actually a little rich lady now.
It was still raining outside, quite heavily. The rain pattered noisily against the windowpanes. Holding her paintbrush, Jiang Yu’s mood slowly calmed and grew lighter.
After playing with her oil paints for most of the night, she finally went to the bathroom for a shower, then collapsed into bed, rolled herself up in the quilt, and fell fast asleep.
When she woke up the next day, she glanced at the paints scattered all over the living room and couldn’t help pressing her forehead. She bent down to clean up the mess before standing before the easel to look at what she had painted last night.
It was a rainy night scene: transparent glass struck by raindrops, the dark tones broken by beads of water bursting on the glass like scattered pearls.
Jiang Yu stood there thinking and realised that recently she’d been painting mostly darker-toned works, or portraits. She suddenly wanted to paint something flamboyant, bright reds and purples. But what subject would fit such colours?
With no inspiration for the moment, Jiang Yu left the painting to dry, packed up her things, and headed over to the Cui household. She also brought along the portrait sketches she’d done in the past two weeks to show the old master. This time, however, besides him, Old Yang was also present, sitting stiff-faced to the side, clearly in a foul mood.
“In this freezing weather, you send her out to do live portrait sketches? That’s just abuse.” While Jiang Yu was in the washroom, Old Yang began criticising the old master.
Such a delicate young girl, sketching outdoors in the cold, anyone who saw that would feel distressed.
The old master was dumbfounded. “Th-this… there’s no shortcut in painting. All you can do is keep drawing, keep observing. I’m doing this for her own good!”
Old Yang looked at him as though he were a weirdo. “Honestly, I don’t even know what to say to you. Don’t you have any compassion for your own student? Even if you don’t, I do.”
“Cut it out!” the old master snorted. “When it comes to grinding students, you’re harsher than me. Easy for you to sit there now, wagging your tongue.”
The old master flipped through Jiang Yu’s recent portrait sketches. They were quick pencil drawings, simple and rough, yet in just a few strokes she’d already captured each subject’s expression and traits.
“This one’s good!” he pulled out one sketch to show Old Yang. “Look, there are more than ten figures here, and she’s grasped their characteristics even more accurately.”
To be Jiang Yu’s teacher, one had to be mentally prepared: there wasn’t actually much they could teach her. She seemed to already know everything. What they could offer her most was their own painting experience. Truth be told, this could easily make a teacher feel defeated.
Both masters assigned Jiang Yu new tasks, so her days were full and busy. At night, she also had to work on a birthday gift painting for Xu Ruyi’s grandmother.
Lin Daiyu and Xue Baochai!
Anyone who had read Dream of the Red Chamber would know these two heroines – completely different personalities. Lin Daiyu was frail, delicate, and sickly, while Xue Baochai was plump and radiant, with a face like a silver disk. Xu Ruyi’s grandmother loved them both, so Xu Ruyi wanted to gift paintings of the two.
Although Jiang Yu had read the novel a few times, she had forgotten many details. So she went to the bookstore, bought another copy, and carefully flipped through it to decide on the scenes to paint.
For Lin Daiyu, she painted the scene of “Daiyu burying fallen flowers.” A slender, graceful girl carrying a flower hoe, burying a pouch of fallen blossoms in the soil. Though no tears fell from her eyes, sorrow lingered between her brows. Petals scattered on her frail figure, as though a gust of wind could blow her away—fragile, beautiful, pitiful.
When she finished, Jiang Yu added Daiyu’s poem Song of the Burial of Flowers on the painting.
For Xue Baochai, she painted the scene of “Baochai catching butterflies.” Compared with Daiyu, Baochai was fuller and rounder. Holding a fan, she made a butterfly-catching gesture, while before her two pale jade butterflies fluttered in the breeze. The composition was livelier—this was one of the rare moments in the novel when Baochai’s playful side was revealed.
When it was done, just as with the Daiyu painting, Jiang Yu inscribed a poem onto it.
These two paintings took her more than half a month. She barely managed to send them off to Xu Ruyi before her grandmother’s birthday. During this time Jiang Yu’s skills had improved again, and the two heroines were painted vividly, each with her own charm, beautiful enough to hold the viewer’s gaze.
When Xu Ruyi received the paintings, she opened them immediately, her eyes lighting up. She thought to herself, If only I could collect the full Twelve Beauties of Jinling and hang them up, what a marvelous sight that would be.
She phoned Jiang Yu. Sitting in the plaza, lazily basking in the sun, Jiang Yu said, “I told you, these two paintings are my birthday gift for Grandma Xu. Don’t even think about paying me – unless you don’t see me as a friend.”
“…It’s just, I felt bad troubling you. The deadline was so tight, and you’ve been so busy, yet you still painted them for me.”
The two had kept in touch over winter break, so Xu Ruyi knew Jiang Yu had been swamped. She had even told her to drop the project, but Jiang Yu ended up painting them anyway.
“Time is always something you can squeeze out. If I can spare some to make Grandma Xu happy, then it’s worth it.” Jiang Yu smiled. At the mention of Grandma Xu, she couldn’t help but think of her own Grandma Jiang, her heart softening.
Xu Ruyi said with a bit of regret, “It’s a pity you’re not in S City. I wanted to introduce you to my parents and grandmother. Oh, and also my cousin.”
Jiang Yu replied, “Next time, when I come back.”
Xu Ruyi nodded.
The two of them chatted for a while longer before finally hanging up.
Jiang Yu sat on a small stool, tucking her hands into the fluffy hand-warmer, feeling utterly comfortable. The little pigeon also nestled in her arms, rubbing against the warmth of the heater, dozing off.
“I thought you weren’t going to come here anymore!” A cup of milk tea appeared in front of her. Jiang Yu jerked her head up to see Lu Mingshen standing there.
She froze for a moment before stammering, “Mr. Lu!”
Lu Mingshen squatted down beside her. He was wearing a long black coat. On someone shorter it might have dragged on the ground, but on him it only made his tall frame and long legs look even more striking.
Thinking of the time she had fallen asleep in his car, Jiang Yu felt embarrassed. After hesitating for a long time, she finally said, “Mr. Lu, about last time… when you drove me home… If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up.”
At that, Lu Mingshen raised an eyebrow. “Alright, I’ll make sure to remember next time. But don’t you think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself? You look awfully tired.”
Jiang Yu’s fingers absently stroked the pigeon’s feathers. She kept her eyes open, gazing at the fountain in the distance. “Even though I’m tired, I feel fulfilled.”
Lu Mingshen looked at her, the reflection of a small figure shimmering in his eyes. Then he suddenly said, “…Aside from painting, I think you should have some other fun in your life too. Something to balance it out.”
“You mean fun? Painting is fun. Whenever I don’t know what else to do, I come here to paint…” Jiang Yu replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Lu Mingshen blinked. It suddenly struck him that this girl’s life could only be described as dull. She carried a maturity and steadiness far beyond her years, and outside of painting, her life seemed completely empty. To most people, this was undeniably monotonous and boring.
After thinking for a moment, he suddenly stood up, looked down at her, and said, “Come on!”
Jiang Yu bit the straw of her milk tea, staring blankly. “Go? Go where?”
“I’m taking you out to have some fun!” Lu Mingshen was already packing up her things, not giving her any chance to refuse. His domineering manner made Jiang Yu think of Lu Mingyu. These two brothers really were alike in some ways.
It wasn’t until they were in the car that Jiang Yu asked, “Where are you taking me?”
Lu Mingshen started the engine. “You’ll find out when we get there!”
He turned the wheel and drove out of the parking lot.
“Mr. Lu, why did you come here today?” Jiang Yu asked curiously in the car.
Lu Mingshen chuckled. “I happened to drive past and remembered you were sketching here. I thought I’d drop by and see if you were around. Didn’t expect to actually find you.”
Jiang Yu shook the milk tea in her hand. “Then… thanks for this!”
Lu Mingshen glanced at her but didn’t say anything. Meanwhile, lying quietly in his pocket was his phone, with a message still on the screen, asking someone what flavor of milk tea girls liked best.
Since the New Year was only a couple of days away, the streets outside were bustling even more than usual. Jiang Yu turned her head to look out at the lively scene, a small smile appearing on her lips.
Though she had followed the old masters to B City, she lived alone. Other than painting, she rarely knew what to do with herself at home. The old master had invited her over, but Jiang Yu had refused. She didn’t want to intrude on their family reunion. Today, with nothing else to do at home, she decided to come out and paint, since painting always calmed her heart.
“Home…” Jiang Yu silently mouthed the word.
Lu Mingshen glanced at her, his brows unconsciously furrowing.
After half an hour, the car finally stopped. Jiang Yu stepped out, bewildered as she looked at the building in front of her. “What is this place?”
“A shooting range!” Lu Mingshen shut the car door. “Come on, let’s go in. I’ve already booked it. Shooting is actually a great way to relieve stress.”
Jiang Yu took a deep breath and followed him inside.
She had never tried anything like this before. She was completely at a loss, not even knowing where to place her hands and feet when holding the gun. Though the instructor guided her, her movements still looked clumsy.
After watching for a while, Lu Mingshen dismissed the coach and came up behind her, placing his hands over hers to raise the gun together. “Pay attention to your stance—your hand here… Now, see that red dot up ahead? Line it up, then pull the trigger!”
Bang!
The shot rang out. Jiang Yu jumped, eyes wide, watching the bullet land on the target – fourth ring. Still, for a beginner, that was an impressive result.
“I hit it!” She looked up at Lu Mingshen, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Lu Mingshen released her hand. “I saw. Not bad. Remember that feeling. Even if you miss, just keep firing at the target. Sooner or later one will hit.”
Jiang Yu nodded seriously, gripping the gun and focusing hard on shooting again.
Meanwhile, Lu Mingshen sat down on a chair, phone in hand. On the screen was his chat with his secretary. “What makes girls happy?”
“…Shopping! For most girls, buying things gives us a sense of satisfaction!”
But then she thought, why was the boss suddenly asking this? Did he… have someone he liked?
The female secretary’s curiosity was unbearable, but she didn’t dare ask, much less gossip. She had a hunch: if she asked today, she’d probably be dragged into overtime tomorrow. The boss hated gossip the most.
The temptation of gossip right in front of her, and she couldn’t touch it. It was torture.
Shopping, huh?
Looking at the message, Lu Mingshen showed a thoughtful expression.
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