Though the rain had stopped, the weather remained gloomy, with bone-chilling cold wind mixed with humidity.

In such weather, even if her eyelids were drooping with fatigue, she wouldn’t want to go out.

When Fu Mingyu called Ruan Sixian, her voice sounded clear, not like someone who had slept.

“You didn’t sleep this afternoon?”

“No, I went out for lunch at noon, then came back and did a set of practice questions.”

“…”

Fu Mingyu chuckled, “You’re quite impressive.”

Escaping from the gates of hell in the evening, staying up all night, being active in bed in the morning, and still able to study and do exercises in the afternoon.

His girlfriend was truly remarkable.

“I ordered dinner for you. Won’t be able to join you.”

“Oh…”

“Why do you sound so disappointed? Did you want me to eat with you?”

“When will you fix this narcissistic problem of yours?”

“Hmm?”

Ruan Sixian looked at herself smiling on the computer screen and touched the corner of her lips. “Nothing else, I’m hanging up.”

“OK.”

After the “beep beep” sound from the phone, Ruan Sixian looked at her computer again.

She hadn’t been studying. All afternoon, she had been searching for “Dong Xian” online.

Whether on web pages, Weibo, or professional forums, content related to her was almost exclusively about oil painting or awards, with very little about her personal affairs.

Ruan Sixian also looked up information about her agent.

Good wine fears deep alleys, let alone artists who are often immersed in creation, frequently secluding themselves for months at a time. They don’t have the extra time and energy to manage the sales of their works, plan exhibitions, and engage in other social activities. Additionally, artists are generally unfamiliar with commercial activities, which could cause an artist with great potential to remain undiscovered, with excellent works never entering the public eye.

Hence, artistic management teams emerged.

Afterward, outstanding artistic works needed professional agents and institutions to circulate, preserve, and appreciate value in the art market.

According to the Baidu Encyclopedia, Guo Gaoyang was a veteran agent in the art world who, leveraging his extensive network, had helped three previously unknown painters gain visibility, have their artistic achievements recognized, and subsequently go international with great acclaim.

However, apart from this encyclopedia entry, there was almost no other information about him online.

Ruan Sixian combined the search terms “Dong Xian” and “Guo Gaoyang,” but related content was still sparse.

“Contemporary oil painter Dong Xian discusses oil painting art with Mr. Guo Gaoyang of Jiangcheng Futuori Gallery.”

“Guo Gaoyang of Jiangcheng Futuori Gallery on Dong Xian: Late-blooming talent, not too late.”

Looking through it all, these seemed to be official press releases.

Guo Gaoyang was also a relatively low-profile person, with basically nothing online except work-related matters.

Scrolling through seven or eight pages, the keyword relevance became increasingly lower.

Finally, among the vast sea of content, she found news about Dong Xian’s marriage to Zheng Tai’an from several years ago.

By then, Dong Xian had already gained some fame, and while related reports weren’t numerous, they did exist.

One of the reports was reposted by an oil painting information blogger.

“The matchmaker was my boss. I’ve seen Teacher Dong in person. She’s super beautiful, haha.”

Ruan Sixian clicked on this person’s homepage and saw they had stopped updating their Weibo two years ago, but their profile still read “Professional Agent at Jiangcheng Futuori Gallery.”

The door intercom system suddenly rang. Ruan Sixian closed her computer, shuffled in her slippers to the living room, and sent a message to Fu Mingyu.

[Ruan Sixian] — Your ordered dinner has arrived!

Just after sending it, she saw Dong Xian’s face on the monitor screen.

She was at the building entrance, not coming up.

“What is it?”

After connecting, Ruan Sixian asked.

Dong Xian raised her hand, holding a food container. “I still couldn’t sleep all night yesterday. I wanted to come see you.”

The two women looked at each other through the small machine.

One was cautious, while the other’s thoughts were unclear.

After a moment, the intercom was interrupted by another call.

The actual food delivery person had arrived.

“Hello, I’m the delivery person from Xixiang Feast. Your dinner has arrived.”

Ruan Sixian opened the door, took the food container, and looked back at the intercom, pressing the button to open the building’s main door.

“Come up.”

She didn’t close the door, instead taking the food container directly to the dining area and arranging everything on the table.

Three dishes, one soup, and two bowls of rice.

Did Fu Mingyu think she was a pig?

Just then, Fu Mingyu called.

“Eat and then go to sleep. Don’t study anymore.”

“Okay.”

Just then, footsteps were heard at the door. Ruan Sixian didn’t turn around and said, “No need to change your shoes.”

“You have a guest?”

“Yes, my mom is here.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, then he said, “I’ll hang up first. Enjoy your meal.”

Putting down the phone, Ruan Sixian turned around with chopsticks in hand to see Dong Xian slowly walking in with her food container, looking up to examine her apartment.

Turning to see the abundant food on her table, Dong Xian looked somewhat embarrassed.

She walked over and opened her container, which held a pot of soup.

“I thought you probably didn’t sleep well either, so I made some soup for you.”

Ruan Sixian held her chopsticks, swallowed half a mouthful of rice, licked the corner of her mouth, and said, “Sit down.”

Dong Xian nodded, sitting as told, and pushed the soup toward Ruan Sixian.

“This is pigeon soup. Your aunt specially picked fresh pigeons early this morning.”

She extended her hand, with rough skin on the back and chapped fingertips.

This was an occupational hazard from years of handling paint, beyond the help of any skincare products.

Seeing Ruan Sixian put down her chopsticks, Dong Xian immediately handed her a spoon.

“Try it?”

Ruan Sixian didn’t take it, pushing away the bowl in front of her.

“I have something to ask you. We can talk about other things later.”

Dong Xian awkwardly withdrew the spoon. “Go ahead and ask.”

“What’s your relationship with the owner of Futuori Gallery?”

“What?”

Dong Xian paused. “You mean Guo Gaoyang?”

Ruan Sixian lowered her eyes and nodded slightly. “Yes.”

“He’s my agent. Why?”

Ruan Sixian said, “I’ll be direct. When I was young, I often took a shortcut home through the path behind Nanxi Lane. You probably didn’t know that, right?”

The words “Nanxi Lane” felt so distant, suddenly mentioned, creating a sense of confusion.

Dong Xian stared at her. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, I knew you had no idea.”

Ruan Sixian picked up her chopsticks again, not eating but gripping them tightly. “Every time I went home that way, I saw you getting out of a man’s car several times. That man often gave you gifts. I remember he had a large black mole on his forehead. That’s your agent, right?”

“He!”

Dong Xian wasn’t stupid, and she had a natural sensitivity to such matters. As soon as Ruan Sixian asked, she understood the implication.

Her face visibly reddened. “He has a wife and children in England. Are you overthinking this?”

Before Ruan Sixian could speak, she stood up agitatedly. “I was wondering about those strange things you said at the hospital that day. So that’s it. What are you thinking?!”

“Don’t be upset.”

Ruan Sixian felt a headache from her reaction. “I’m just asking you to confirm.”

“Why are you asking me about this now? How many years has it been? Almost ten years! You’re asking me now, so you’ve been avoiding me all this time because of this? I don’t know what to say. Would you—”

Ruan Sixian suddenly stood up and walked into the kitchen.

Dong Xian followed her. “Say something!”

“Drink some water first.”

Ruan Sixian directly pushed a glass of warm water in front of her. “Calm down, let’s talk properly.”

She took the water Ruan Sixian handed her, closed her eyes, and drank it all in one go. It took a long time for her to calm down.

“Okay, I’ll explain it to you properly.”

She put down the glass, turned, walked out of the kitchen, and sat on the sofa.

“I met Guo Gaoyang at an art charity event. I brought students to participate.”

“He wanted to sign me, but I was hesitant. What you saw—him sending me home—was at his insistence. I didn’t want your father to know I was in contact with an agency, so I kept it hidden.”

“As for the gifts, he was just expressing his sincerity.”

Well.

Ruan Sixian couldn’t describe her feelings at this moment.

She had kept this bottled up for ten years, never telling anyone who asked, while people continuously failed to understand why she couldn’t accept her parents’ divorce.

She thought that no matter how angry she was, protecting Dong Xian’s reputation was the last courtesy she could offer.

So she had silently carried this frustration in her heart.

But it turned out to be just her imagination.

She felt like a fool.

Seeing Ruan Sixian’s silence, Dong Xian asked again, “Why are you only asking me about this now?”

“How was I supposed to ask you?”

Ruan Sixian said, “I was only fourteen then. How could I have asked about that?”

This kind of situation was beyond the understanding of Ruan Sixian, who was still in junior high school at the time.

It wasn’t until a year later, when her parents divorced, that she vaguely understood what had happened.

In the following years, Dong Xian traveled to various places, seemingly very busy, returning once or twice a year to find her, but never going home, just waiting outside the school.

As if she hated their former home.

At that time, judging from her appearance and dress, Ruan Sixian could feel that she was living better and better, but her father’s health was deteriorating.

From being a homeroom teacher to just a Chinese language teacher.

Later, he taught fewer and fewer classes, and the family’s financial condition naturally declined.

The contrast seemed to place the adults in an adversarial situation.

At first, Dong Xian and Ruan Sixian’s father could still maintain a surface-level peace and exchange a few words.

Later, they didn’t speak at all.

“Fine.” Dong Xian raised her hand, signaling the end of this topic, but her eyes reddened. “You misunderstood me for so many years because of this. I really… feel terrible…”

She walked to the dining table, picked up the pot of soup, rubbed her eyes, and said, “Eat something first.”

Ruan Sixian was still sitting by the sofa, unable to detach from her emotions, and had no appetite.

She felt helpless, not knowing what to say.

The two remained in silence, one standing, one sitting.

Even with the heater on, the living room felt cold.

The steam from the food gradually cooled, and Dong Xian’s heart ached. She choked up and said, “Ruan Ruan, let me spend New Year with you, okay?”

For almost twelve years, they hadn’t celebrated New Year’s Eve together, set off fireworks, or shared a meal.

Ruan Sixian was just about to nod, soaking in her tenderness.

“I misunderstood you about this, and I apologize to you.”

She suddenly lifted her chin and continued, “But you abandoned me when I was fourteen, and that’s true. You only came to see me five times in four years, that’s also true. My dad had an accident when he went out for a walk after learning about your remarriage, that’s true too. You have no idea how I grew up after I was fourteen. What right do you have to ask me to happily celebrate New Year with you now that I don’t lack anything?”