Aoba Office

Zhuge Wen's pain lasted for several minutes. He gasped, stood up straight, and went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Returning to the studio, he nonchalantly picked up the fallen easel, replaced it with a new drawing board, threw the original drawing board into a garbage bag, wiped the paint on the floor... He did all this in an orderly and skillful manner.

After more than half an hour, he began to paint again, a simple landscape painting without figures. The style is just like the paintings I have seen before, quiet and beautiful.

The dream scene changed again.

Zhuge Wen was lying in the hospital's equipment and had just finished the examination.

Dreams switch and jump quickly, with the familiar style of past dreams.

During the montage effect, I received a large number of messages:

Young painter, talent, praise, brain tumor, treatment...

Zhuge Wen said to the agent who was responsible for exhibitions and auctions of his paintings and taking care of his daily life: "I can't remember."

The agent was surprised: "Have you lost your memory?"

"I can't remember her name or her face." Zhuge Wen said in confusion.

"Who?" The agent was also puzzled.

"I don't know... I don't know who it is, but he is a very important person. I can't remember... I can't remember..." Zhuge Wen's breathing increased and he hit his head several times.

The manager quickly stopped him and patiently advised: "Maybe I forgot for a while. Otherwise, if you look at the address book and photo album, there should be her name or photo, right?"

The two rummaged around, but Zhuge Wen denied everyone.

"no."

"That's not it."

"Not her."

"wrong."

…

When the agent was about to lose his patience, Zhuge Wen saw a bird flying outside the window.

"Birds...little birds...sparrows...hawks...doves..." Zhuge Wen began to talk to himself.

The agent stared at Zhuge Wen with some horror.

Zhuge Wen's current mental state is indeed very strange, he seems like a madman.

Is it because of this that his paintings have their own spirit, or are they like monsters? I thought to myself.

"Ah Wen...what are you talking about?" the manager asked anxiously.

Zhuge Wen suddenly turned his head, causing the manager to lean back in fright.

"It's a bird, it's the name of a kind of bird." Zhuge Wen said.

"The thing you forgot is a bird?" the agent asked.

"No, it's a human being, a girl, but her name is the same as a bird. What kind of bird is it..." Zhuge Wen became distressed again.

"Could it be the person you had a crush on before?" The agent put forward a hypothesis, "You said there are no photos or address books, so it could be the person you had a crush on. You saw it somewhere or heard someone calling her. Just remember her name, or how she introduced herself... It's okay to forget about this, right?"

The agent's last words were swallowed back under Zhuge Wen's glare.

"This is very important, very important. You can't forget it." Zhuge Wen said, staring at his agent.

The agent could only nod.

I looked at the calendar on the wall.

This was before Zhuge Wen was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It may be because of the brain tumor that he forgot the name.

The timeline of the dream jumps a bit.

The next scene is after Zhuge Wen has received a period of treatment.

He no longer struggled to remember the name, and no longer acted crazy.

This can be said to be the credit of agents and doctors.

At the suggestion of his agent, Zhuge Wen drew the back of the girl. The face could not be seen, but there was a back, which calmed Zhuge Wen's emotions.

That series of paintings was named "My Lover" by the agent. After being numbered, they were exhibited and auctioned.

Zhuge Wen is also slightly famous, but his famous work is not "My Lover", but the works he painted in his youth, which are a series of abstract paintings.

I don't understand the connotation of his paintings. I only see many colors, which remind me of "games". I don’t know if it’s because of this, but I don’t like Zhuge Wen’s works. Or maybe it's because I've seen those monsters that I can't like his work.

Rego bought many paintings of "My Lover" and hung them in the hotel.

Zhuge Wen had gone to see it, but he had only seen it.

Next, Zhuge Wen's life seems to have nothing to do with the hotel.

I didn't feel his strong obsession. He was reincarnated soon after his death and did not become a ghost.

Perhaps it was just because of the porcelain bowls and formations in the hotel that the paintings had a spirit and a will of their own.

Zhuge Wen is really innocent.

I have a hard time starting with Zhuge Wen. At this moment, I was in a dilemma.

An idea flashed in my mind, and I came up with a solution that could be said to be the best of both worlds.

Just go back a little bit in time, see who Zhuge Wen's lover is, and find a way to tell Zhuge Wen, wouldn't it be enough? If Zhuge Wen had not forgotten, there would not be "My Lover" and there would not be those monsters.

But can I control my dreams as I wish?

Dreams are often beyond my control, and the time-jumping montages are not of my will.

As soon as I hesitated, I realized that the dream had changed.

Zhuge Wen became younger, and the canvas in front of him was an abstract combination of color blocks.

The agent waited for him to put away his pen before saying aloud: "Awen, you can't do this kind of work all the time. There are too many works of the same type, so it's not easy to sell them at high prices, and your paintings are too similar, so you just have to differentiate them. It’s also difficult to operate as a series. I think the recent trend is Talmond’s style, and you can try to get closer to that style. Even if you don’t follow that style, the content needs to be changed.”

Zhuge Wen listened silently and stared at his work. After a while, he nodded with a complicated expression, "Okay."

"Ahhhhhhh-"

I was startled.

The sudden woman's scream made me look around.

No, there was no one around, and no ghosts.

Where did the scream come from?

But thinking about it, there seemed to be a trace of Yin Qi hovering around Zhuge Wen just now.

Is it the ghost that is haunting him?

I looked at Zhuge Wen and noticed that Zhuge Wen's dress had changed.

He put on his winter clothes and bent down to pack his things.

I realized I was looking into a mirror.

Zhuge Wen packed up all the painting tools, carried them out of the hotel room, and put the things in the trunk of the car.

He drove all night up to a hill, stopped the car, and carried his things on his back to the top of the hill. With every breath, white mist came out of his mouth.

He set up his easel on the top of the mountain, drank the hot tea he had brought, and waited for the first ray of sunshine in the morning.

Zhuge Wen was sketching. He drove the midnight oil and stayed up late, but he was full of energy when painting and quickly completed a sunrise picture. Under the golden sunshine, there were neat terraces. This is not an abstract painting, and the style is different from "My Lover".

Zhuge Wen was very satisfied with the painting, packed up his things and went down the mountain.

He yawned and drove down the mountain.

I don't know where this is, but it seems to be a mountainous area that has been developed to a certain extent. There is only one mountain road that can barely pass by a car. This kind of place is not uncommon.

Zhuge Wen was driving very fast. Judging from his sleepy appearance, he seemed to want to rush back to the hotel to rest as soon as possible.

Did he meet his lover here?

Just as I was thinking this, the car turned a corner and I saw a girl walking in front of me.

Bang!

The girl was hit by a high-speed car. Her face was pressed against the window glass, her body flipped in the air, fell to the ground, and was run over by the wheels.

The car jolted and the brakes squealed.

The sleepiness on Zhuge Wen's face completely disappeared.