Shanghai morning

The artistic exhibition hall was full of people, all kinds of men and women constituted a grotesque modernist painting, a moving painting.

Al doesn't understand painting, and he doesn't pretend to understand. His interest lies in people. At this time, he is sipping champagne while observing the people coming and going. Clothing constitutes the armor behind.

"Mr. Jones, I am very glad that you can honor me." Luther came over.

"Thanks to my dear cousin, who tried his best to convince me that I would regret not coming," Al said impatiently.

"Then I hope we won't let you down." Luther was not embarrassed, and after politely exchanging a few words with Al, he went to greet other guests.

Arthur came over, saw the champagne glass in Al's hand, and said in a sarcastic tone: "You'd better not get drunk at the beginning, it's good news to make a fool of yourself at the art exhibition."

"Why isn't Vargas here?" Al asked. "I've only seen Beshmit so far."

"I heard that he is often like this. The protagonist always has to appear late to attract the attention of the audience, but some people say that he is late just because of snooze." Arthur said.

"I think snoozing is more likely." Al drank from his glass and put the glass on a tray in the hands of a waiter.

Al casually glanced at the paintings on the wall. He couldn't understand the "art" of the pattern composed of those color blocks, but everyone said that Feliciano Vargas was a rare genius, they said That's right, at least Al wasn't sure he could refute them—he didn't know anything about painting.

Suddenly, Al noticed one of the paintings. He walked up to the painting and examined it carefully: at first glance, this painting was nothing special. It was one of the many Shanghai-themed works in the exhibition. The blurred outlines of the buildings and the turbid water of the Huangpu River spread at the bottom of the canvas. A figure leaning on a railing and looking into the distance looks extremely lonely against the backdrop of the river water and buildings.The faces of the characters are a bit distorted, but you can see the dignified and worried expressions. I have to admit that Feliciano's expression skills are very superb. He can convey real and sensible emotions with simple to vague faces.There seems to be an active soul under the unclear face, shining through the pale figure, like the warm light of a street lamp shining through the lampshade.The name of the work is written under the frame: Shanghai Morning.What really surprised Al was that the figure in the painting looked so much like someone he was familiar with.Al vaguely remembered that at the Paramount ball, Ludwig mentioned that Wang Yao was a person in a certain painting by Feliciano. He didn't pay attention to it at the time, but now he saw this painting and felt a little uncomfortable. The painter poured his emotions into this work.

"It really looks like Yao." Arthur said one step ahead of him.

"Is that why you asked me?" Al asked.

"No, it's also the first time I've seen this painting." Arthur admired the painting with interest.

Al looked at the person in the painting again, thoughtfully.

"I know Yao has a good relationship with that Vargas," Al said suddenly, "but how good is it?" This sentence was very narrow.

"I don't know, Yao never told me about his friendship with Vargas." Arthur said casually.

Arthur doesn't care about Wang Yao's life at all, and Wang Yao obviously knows that there is no need to tell Arthur more—he won't listen to him, Al thought.

At this moment, someone behind the two suddenly said, "Mr. Kirkland."

When the two turned around at the same time, Arden was amazed, but Arthur remained calm, but his face sank.

The person standing behind them had a face exactly like Al's.

"Hello, Mr. Kirkland, we meet again." The man showed a humble smile.

"Hello, Mr. Williams. Al, this is Mr. Matthew Williams. He has just arrived in Shanghai and plans to develop here. Mr. Williams, this is my cousin Alfred Jones." Arthur introduced them.

"Hello, Mr. Jones." Matthew shook hands with Al, then turned to Arthur with a gentle smile and said, "I don't think you need to call me Mr. Williams, cousin." He deliberately called "cousin" The word bite is very clear.

Al glanced at Arthur, who looked sullen.

"I hope you will not use any inappropriate address at will," said Arthur coldly. "I'm sorry."

Al and Matthew were left looking at each other. Matthew no longer had the gentle and appropriate smile just now, and a mocking sneer curled up on the corner of his mouth: "Mr. Jones, I didn't expect that I was not the only illegitimate child of my father, did I?"

Al looked at Matthew coldly, seemingly without any reaction to his attack: "I'm more curious, if you are only my half brother, you can't be so similar to me, I venture to guess that we are twins?"

Matthew smiled and said: "You guessed right, we are indeed twins. It is said that you were born first, which makes me a little disappointed."

"Why have I never heard of you?" Al asked.

"Obviously my father doesn't want you to know that you have a younger brother who was born together. You were raised by your father, and I was raised by our poor mother. You are the lucky one." Matthew said mockingly.

"Our mother?" Al asked immediately. "Where is she now?"

"Dead," said Matthew lightly, "14 years after she brought me to Canada."

Al didn't know if he was considered "lucky". Although he was brought up by his father, he actually lived in the United States and grew up in the manor under his father's name. stranger.And Matthew lived with his mutual mother whom he had never met for at least 14 years.

"My father wanted to keep the two of us, but my mother insisted on taking one away. I was born weak, so my father allowed my mother to take me away-he is a shrewd capitalist." Matthew said, "These are the things my mother told me. My, I've known for as long as I can remember that I have a twin brother, but today is the first time I've seen you."

"I think your purpose of coming today is not just to recognize relatives?" Al said bluntly.

But Matthew smiled: "Otherwise, what else could it be for? Take the camera from you who have nothing? I'm not good at photography, and I'm not interested in it."

"Then your target is Arthur?" Al said contemptuously, "You want to snatch Jardine Matheson from him?"

Matthew sneered: "You are more stupid than I thought—whether you believe it or not, I think Arthur is more like my brother than you." After that, Matthew turned and left gracefully, blending into the other guests.

Al walked to Arthur's side: "This is the surprise you gave me? Another illegitimate child."

"Matthew shouldn't be in Shanghai. I can't explain to people that I have two identical cousins." Arthur frowned.

"Maybe you should be lucky, Matthew will definitely be willing to be your partner." Al said.

"You still don't understand? Matthew Williams will only mess up everything. Entering a foreign company is just his first step. What he wants is his inheritance." Arthur said irritably.

"But didn't the old man's inheritance be left to you?" Al said, "I will not share a share with this unknown guy, even if we want to grab it, we can't take it away."

"I don't want to explain to you!" Arthur almost stopped Al.

At this time, the protagonist of the exhibition finally arrived, and he heard his voice before seeing him: "Mr. Jones! Mr. Kirkland! It's great that you can come!"

A red-haired figure rushed over like a gust of wind, it was Feliciano.Followed by Luther with an embarrassed expression and Gilbert who was extremely bored.

"Mr. Jones, have you seen all the paintings? Have you seen my paintings?" Feliciano asked expectantly.

"Your work is very... impressive," Al didn't know how to evaluate the artwork, "I noticed this painting, is the person in the painting really Wang Yao?" Al pointed to the work he had been staring at.

"Yes! This is him!" Feliciano was very happy, "You are his good friend, you must be able to tell that this is very similar to him, right?"

Al didn't know what kind of concept the artist called "likeness", but the person in the painting did feel familiar to him, and he was attracted by the painting from the moment he saw it.Al nodded and said, "In a way it does."

"Great!" Feliciano was even more delighted, "You have great artistic appreciation! You know, it's not easy to grasp the feeling of the moment. When I painted this "Shanghai Morning", I completely relied on my impressions. It’s hard to use pictures to reflect what’s in your head.”

"Based on impression?" Al became interested.

"Yes, that was the first time I saw Yao, standing by the Huangpu River, he was as thin as a shadow, but for some reason, I felt that this man was like a watchman standing in the river of time, maintaining the eternal Calm." Feliciano vividly described the picture in his impression.

Al was speechless, he didn't feel anything about the artist's exaggerated descriptions, and Yao in his impression was a living person, not an artistic image.

Luther's intervention eased the awkward atmosphere: "Excuse me, Mr. Jones. Ferry, it's time for you to greet other guests. Your good friend Mr. Honda Ju is over there."

"Ah! There's always a lot of people to greet!" said Ferry despondently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, to excuse me."

"Please." Al nodded.

Al once again focused his attention on the painting. The Wang Yao on the screen did not respond to anything that happened in the real world. No matter what kind of conspiracy was staged in front of him, he would not be moved. He was really like a guardian of the river of time. By.

"Hey, Yao," Al said softly to the person in the painting, "tell me, did that guy Vargas draw you into the painting?" He was very surprised that he would have such a stupid idea. Into this two-dimensional oil painting, he should just stay in the foreign firm, repeating the lifeless work.

But the painting seemed to have magical powers, and Al couldn't take his eyes off it.

"Mr. Jones likes to appreciate art?" This is English with a foreign accent.

Al was startled and found that Honda Chrysanthemum had come to him at some point.

"Mr. Honda? I thought you were with Vargas." Al didn't know the Japanese, but he didn't like him from the bottom of his heart.

"He just walked away. I see that you have been looking at this painting, and I can't help being a little curious." Honda Ju's smile was cold.

"I'm just in a daze." Intuitively, Al didn't want the person in front of him to find anything related to Wang Yao.

Honda Chrysanthemum inadvertently looked at the painting that Al had been staring at, and then smiled and said, "No wonder you looked at it so carefully. It turns out that it is a friend we all know!"

Hearing Honda Ju call Wang Yao a "friend" made Al very unhappy, and he said bitterly: "I never heard Yao mention you, I thought you only had business contacts."

"Wang Sang never mentioned you to me," Honda Ju still kept smiling, "but he really cares about a certain friend, a friend who likes to use blue coffee cups." Honda Ju deliberately emphasized the second half of the sentence tone.

Al suddenly remembered that when he invited Wang Yao to drink coffee for the second time, Wang Yao mentioned that he liked the blue cup because the cup resembled the color of his eyes.

Seeing that Al did not speak, Honda Ju continued: "It is a pleasant thing to deal with Wang Sang. He is one of the few educated and rational Chinese people, unlike those stupid barbarians outside. But such a Chinese Humans are also difficult to control, just like a strong horse, if it can’t keep it down, it will be kicked.”

Al didn't like the Honda Kiku analogy: "I don't think Yoo would kick anyone."

Honda Ju couldn't help laughing: "Mr. Jones has a great sense of humor."

Just when Al was about to refute, Luther's voice saved his tongue: "Ladies and gentlemen, please come here, Feliciano's latest work—and the most important work in this exhibition is about to be unveiled. "

Al and Honda Ju walked towards the largest display wall. The wall was covered with a huge white curtain, and there was already a circle of people around. Most of them were waiting with expectant expressions to witness Feliciano's greatest ever works, but there are also people like Al who know neither art nor interest, including Honda Ju, who keeps a decent smile.

Feliciano briskly walked to the curtain, smiled and bowed to the guests: "Everyone, now I want to present my best work to you, please look!" He pulled the curtain as he spoke, and the heavy cloth slowly slipped down , revealing a large oil painting.

On the canvas, a naked body occupies the main picture. It is a man lying in the gray-black mud. His limbs seem to be forced to spread out. His hands are entangled by the cables of the ship over his head. One leg is stretched out and the other is supported. Standing up, the thin muscles all over the body tense or relax due to the posture, as if struggling.In the far distance of the screen, a line of river scenery is exposed, and there are vaguely ships passing by on the gray river.

Al looked at the painting in shock. This time, the face of the character was clear and real. It was Wang Yao. Those familiar eyes were full of sadness, deep, stagnant, and unspeakable.

"This is my latest work: Laborers on the Huangpu River" Feliciano proudly introduced his new work.

"It's really a masterpiece." Honda Ju couldn't help sighing, half talking to himself and half talking to Ferry.

Al could hear that Honda Ju's admiration this time was sincere.

People applauded and praised.Several guests offered to buy this painting on the spot, and Honda Ju squeezed ahead of everyone: "Ferry, I will definitely buy this painting, no matter how much it costs."

Feliciano readily agreed: "Of course, my friend!"

People kept coming forward to congratulate Feliciano, the young painter seemed to have become a new star in the art world.Feliciano is not very social, but he enjoys the excitement and is uncontrollably excited.Luther had to sit next to him to entertain him, in case he said something he shouldn't say or behaved otherwise humiliatingly.

After finally waiting for the guests to disperse, Al finally seized the opportunity to talk to Feliciano: "Mr. Vargas, your works really keep surprising people."

Getting Al's affirmation made Feliciano even happier: "Mr. Jones, although many people said that just now, hearing your praise makes me the happiest!"

Al went on to say: "I would like to take the liberty of making a request: can you sell me the painting "Shanghai Morning"?"

Feliciano smiled and said, "I knew you would like that painting! But I'm not really willing to sell that painting, it's my favorite work—no, it's the most beautiful picture in my impression .”

"That painting also gave me the same wonderful impression. If I can't get it, I will be very disappointed. I hope you will give it to me generously." Al insisted.

"Alright then!" Feliciano readily agreed, "I believe you will cherish it as much as I do!"

Already reached his goal, he stopped pestering Feliciano. He retreated to a place where there were few people, took another glass of champagne, paced up and down the hall, and looked at all the paintings. related works.

"Didn't expect you to like art, Al," Matthew walked towards Al, "Are you going to hang it in the bathroom?" he said sarcastically.

"This has nothing to do with you." Al looked at Matthew warily.

Matthew smiled helplessly: "Al, don't treat me as an enemy, I'm not as bad as you think."

"Really? I can't see it at all." Al said coldly.

"Al, we should go!" Arthur came over and interrupted their conversation, "Goodbye, Mr. Williams, my cousin and I are going back."

"Goodbye, Mr....Mr. Kirkland." Matthew saluted the two, then moved aside.

When the two were sitting in the car, Al finally asked Arthur: "Do you even know about that painting? Why did Yao model Vargas?"

"I thought you'd be more concerned about the presence of Matthew Williams," Arthur said.

"You haven't answered yet!" Al didn't want Arthur to change the subject.

"I don't know," Arthur said, "but I know Wang Yao is working for Vargas behind my back."

"Why did he work for Vargas?" Al pressed.

"It's an obvious question, isn't it?" said Arthur impatiently. "Or you can ask him himself."

Al was silent, and the two didn't talk all the way.

The car arrived at the Sassoon Building first, Al opened the door and got out, leaned down in front of the opened car door and said to Arthur in the car: "Pay Vargas for me—I bought his "Shanghai Morning". "

Arthur was helpless and angry: "If you want to spend my money all the time, you'd better do something for me!"

Al smirked: "Maybe I will, starting with getting this painting." Then he closed the car door.

The car started again, and Arthur looked at the Huangpu River through the car window with a heavy heart. He didn't notice that the Chinese driver was looking at him from the rearview mirror.

tbc