slowly

When Ning Zhi passed by the tea room, he heard several colleagues talking about him.He was sent to the gallery today to investigate the situation since the opening of the Dadaism exhibition. He was not supposed to come to the company, but he forgot to bring the USB flash drive, so he came back halfway.

By chance, Wen Jun ran into Qiao Yan and gave Qiao Yan a "class".

He didn't say anything bad about him, but just introduced his family background, saying that he came from a scholarly family and an art family, what about his grandfather, father, and mother, so that Qiao Yan could learn more from him.

Every word was true, Ning Zhi couldn't refute it, and he had no reason to be angry.

While they were not paying attention, he took the USB flash drive and sneaked away, thinking as he walked, thinking that only Zhu Weiyun knew about this, and it turned out that his colleagues knew it all.

Are they envious of him?I envy that his grandfather is a well-educated professor of folklore, his father is a well-known late bloomer painter, his mother is the principal violinist of the local symphony orchestra, and other family members have also made some achievements in this major.

But in the past, Ning Zhi wished to exchange lives with the tablemate Xiaopang, who was the last one in every exam, and whose mother spread pancakes and father repaired motorcycles.

This kind of thinking may be too selfish, too superior, with a sense of superiority of "why not eat minced meat", but Ning Zhi really longed for it.Because Xiaopang's parents will play childish games with Xiaopang and take him to the playground, and Ning Zhi will always be "Mr. Ning's son", "Mr. Zheng's son", and "Mr. Ning's grandson".

If the young Ning Zhi could show some extraordinary talent, maybe the situation wouldn't be so bad, but he didn't. He was doomed to be mediocre all his life since he was a child. He had no weapons to resist, so he could only accept those titles.

Among Ning Wu's grandson, Ning Ranzhang's son, and Zheng Qiudai's son, Ning Zhi hated the second identity the most.Because my mother didn't take him often when she went out to play, and my grandfather, although trying to cultivate his interest in oracle bone inscriptions and witchcraft, would hold him in his arms and pierce his face with his white beard.Only Ning Ranzhang, who is the most famous, has the most distant relationship with him.

In Ning Zhi's impression, his parents never quarreled, nor were they intimate. Ning Ranzhang stayed abroad for a few years and didn't learn a little bit of romance. Ning Zhi never saw them holding hands, let alone kissing.If the relationship between husband and wife is still like this, they will be more restrained towards their son, often with more than caring and not enough love.

When Ning Zhi was five years old, he did a bad thing by throwing his father's painting tools and paints into the trash can to express his dislike for the label "Ning Ranzhang's son", but it was discovered by Zheng Qiudai. He took the branch and whipped it hard.

Zheng Qiudai is a lady of every family, usually gentle and dignified, that was the only time in Ning Zhi's life when he saw her lose her temper, and she was so frightened that she burst into tears.Later, when Ning Ranzhang came home, he hugged Ning Zhi with unfamiliar movements, coaxing him back and forth with only one word, if Xiaozhi didn't cry, Dad would buy it again.

Sometimes, Ning Zhi really hates him.I hate him for being clumsy, dull, and incomprehensible, I hate him for dedicating half of my life to oil painting, and I hate him for saying good works against his will when he sees his crappy works.

In the years of wrestling with "Ning Ranzhang's son", Ning Zhi grew up slowly.He calmly accepted the fact that he had no talent for painting, chose to major in art history, and then went abroad to study in graduate school, going farther and farther.

It wasn't until the bad news came that he realized that his feelings for Ning Ranzhang were not that complicated.

It's just love.

After the day's exhibition ended, Ning Zhi took a taxi back to the old house.

Although he had called in advance, Ning Zhi was still a little surprised when he saw Zheng Qiudai waiting at the door of the villa.

Zheng Qiudai became thinner again, with a pointed chin, sunken eye sockets, and lacking blood in his lips.She was wearing a champagne-colored cheongsam and silk gloves, and behind her was a large rusty iron gate.

The vegetables grown in the yard are not growing well, and the cabbage leaves are rotten in the soil, leaving no one to take care of them.Ning Zhi walked along the cobblestone road, and was shocked to find that the surroundings were eerily quiet, not even the sound of birds chirping or the rustling of leaves blown by the wind.

A house has a lifespan, right? The house that accompanied Ning Zhi through childhood and adolescence is obviously aging.

After entering the door, I felt empty and deserted, except for the dining room and the kitchen, the rest of the place was indistinct, Ning Zhi complained: "Why don't you turn on the lights."

Zheng Qiudai said: "It costs electricity."

Ning Zhi thought it was absurd: "Is our family already so poor?"

Zheng Qiudai smiled slightly, a little sad: "It's empty even when the lights are on, it's better to be dark." She reached out to pick up Ning Zhi's coat, but Ning Zhi avoided it, and the scene was a little awkward.

"Wash your hands and eat." Zheng Qiudai didn't care.

Since Ning Ranzhang died of illness two years ago, Zheng Qiudai's attitude towards Ning Zhi began to change. He would cook for him and care about his work and life, becoming more and more like the kind of mother Ning Zhi fantasized about when he was a child.But Ning Zhi was not used to it.

"I want to take a look at my dad's studio first." Ning Zhi walked to the side of the stairs, turned on the wall lamp, briefly explained what Zhu Weiyun had entrusted to him, and asked, "How many paintings do I have from my dad at home?"

"Seventy or eighty pieces."

"So many!" Ning Zhi was taken aback, "Why don't you sell them?"

"Most of them were dissatisfied and wanted to be destroyed by him, and I insisted on keeping them. There are some...don't want to sell." Zheng Qiudai took the key and said to Ning Zhi, "Let's go."

Ning Zhi hadn't set foot in Ning Ranzhang's studio for many years. When he was a teenager, he rebelled and refused to enter. After his father passed away, he was sad and refused to enter. When he opened the door again, he felt as if he had passed away.

He smelled a familiar smell, it was paint, which used to permeate the whole house, throughout his teenage years, but now it has faded and restrained, and he can only retreat to this square inch.

It's only been two years.

Next to the studio is the storage room, which maintains a constant temperature and humidity throughout the year, and is equipped with special low-ultraviolet lamps. Ning Ranzhang's works are neatly hung on the wall, varnished and well maintained.

Zheng Qiudai said: "You choose, I don't know painting either. Since it is a nationwide exhibition, you must find the best one, otherwise your father will be unhappy."

Ning Zhi watched from wall to wall, attracted by a graceful figure with fluttering clothes, and asked softly, "Mom, is this painting about you?"

The name of the painting is "Girl Playing the Violin".

Zheng Qiudai acquiesced, walked over quickly, and blocked Ning Zhi's gaze with half of his body: "This is not good, he drew it more than 20 years ago, and his skills and style are immature." Her expression was very strange, and the corners of her mouth were slightly raised , but her eye sockets were wet, with a bit of embarrassment. "And I'm not a girl, I'll be 25 years old then."

Ning Zhi nodded and walked away thoughtfully.On the last wall, he saw a portrait of a chubby baby with eyes like black grapes, innocently sucking his fingers.

Ning Zhi has no memory of this painting. After looking at it for a while, he said to himself: "So I was so fat when I was young."

After locking the studio door, the mother and son went downstairs to have dinner.

The dining table was extremely quiet, and the chewing sound was inaudible.Zheng Qiudai picked up a bamboo shoot for Ning Zhi: "Are you done with the Dadaism exhibition?"

"Yeah." Ning Zhi chewed the bamboo shoots for a long time before swallowing, and asked Zheng Qiudai, "Have you not practiced the piano recently?"

Just now when he passed by the living room, he saw that the violin case was all dusty.

"I can't get excited." Zheng Qiudai replied lightly, and then shifted the topic to Ning Zhi, asking about his life's major events.

"The girl your aunt introduced to you, have you met?"

"No." Ning Zhi finished eating, and walked into the kitchen with the bowl, "Don't ask my aunt to introduce girls to me in the future, introduce boys."

Zheng Qiudai held up her chopsticks in a daze, her melancholy face finally showed some expression, she opened her mouth, and reproached hesitantly: "Don't make trouble."

Ning Zhi turned his back to him and didn't answer.

On Saturday, with clear skies and warm wind, a Porsche stormed into the manor.

The butler and the gardener were standing on the lawn talking, and when they heard the sound of the motor, they couldn't help but greet them: "The young master is back!"

"Uncle Liu, Brother Heng," Jiang Chan pulled out the car key and greeted them with a smile, "What are you up to?"

"The weather is good, let's enjoy the sun." Liu Bin looked at him carefully, "Why did you come back suddenly? Didn't say hello, have you had breakfast yet?"

Jiang Chan shook his head. The housekeeper felt distressed, and immediately rushed back to give instructions to the kitchen. His steps were fast and steady, not like a 60-year-old old man at all.

Jiang Chan asked, "Brother Heng, is my dad at home?"

"Why aren't you here? Recently, Mr. Jiang has become obsessed with calligraphy, and he practices calligraphy at home every day."

"It's easy for him." Jiang Chan bid farewell to the gardener, picked a bouquet of flowers from the flowerbed, walked along the stone road to a castle-shaped building, wiped off the dirt from the soles of his shoes, and pushed open the thick wooden door.

"Master is back!" A middle-aged woman wearing an apron hurried out of the kitchen.

Jiang Chan handed over the freshly picked flowers: "Aunt Hong, this is for you. I'm so sorry that I didn't notify you in advance, so I'll trouble you to cook again."

"What are you talking about, I wish you could come back more often." Hong Rong blushed from this romantic trick, and pointed to the stairs, "Mr. Jiang is in the study, go up quickly."

"No hurry, I'll go see my mother first."

Jiang Chan walked into the living room and looked at the huge wedding photo hanging on the wall.He has done this action countless times. When he was a child, he had to tilt his head fiercely to see it. Now that he has grown taller, he can already look at the girl in the painting.

What a beautiful woman, and never gets old.

In the spacious study room, Jiang Qiping was writing.He was slightly bowed, with a focused posture, and just as the brush fell on the rice paper, he suddenly heard an impatient knock on the door, hesitated for half a second, and the words were ruined.

"Come in." He put down his pen and threw the ball of paper into the trash can.

Jiang Chan opened the door without calling "Dad". The father and son looked at each other as a greeting.

Jiang Chan asked, "When will the board of directors fire Jiang Luhong, that trash?"

His tone was harsh, but Jiang Qiping remained as still as a mountain: "What's wrong with him? He didn't do a good job."

"Stupid and stupid. How long has the project in Province J been handed over to him? It hasn't been built yet."

Jiang Qiping understood: "If you want to take over, he won't let go."

Jiang Chan generously admitted: "Yes."

He is the general manager, and Jiang Luhong is the vice president. He should be in charge of the company's affairs. If Jiang Luhong has the strategy and courage, Jiang Chan would be willing to cooperate, but the other party is clearly a fool, and he only got his current position by virtue of connections.

Jiang Qiping played with the paperweight on the table, and said after a while: "If you want to take over, you can take over. If you can't handle such trivial matters well, how can you get into the board of directors in the future."

Jiang Chan was young and energetic, unable to withstand the provocation, and said sarcastically, "I can't handle it well? I'm afraid that it will be too ugly and your brothers will fight against the wall."

Jiang Qiping twitched the corners of his mouth, his eyes were sharp and deep, and he said to Jiang Chan unhurriedly, "That means you are not capable enough."

Jiang Chan was so pissed off by the old fox, he stopped arguing, turned around and went downstairs, took two steps and found Jiang Qiping following behind, and asked in surprise, "You don't practice calligraphy anymore?"

"I have a guest." Jiang Qiping pointed to the garden outside the window.

In the living room, the father and son read the newspaper and played with the mobile phone, neither of them paid attention to the other.It wasn't until the cook greeted Jiang Chan with tremella and lotus seed glutinous rice balls that Jiang Qiping asked, "Did you have breakfast?"

"Yeah." Jiang Chan thanked the cook, scooped up a glutinous rice ball, and casually blew off the heat, "What kind of guest are you?"

As soon as the words fell, the roses outside the gate made rustling sounds. Those roses grew too lush, and they tilted overwhelmed by the spring breeze, and fell on the stone road. Whenever someone passed by, they would be scratched, and then Stained with a light floral fragrance.

The butler said in a loud voice, "Mr. Jiang, Mr. Ning is here."

Mr. Ning?Jiang Chan had a wonderful premonition, put down the bowl, and stared at the entrance with interest.

He saw Ning Zhi walk into the living room, shake hands with Jiang Qiping and present the prepared gift, then turned his head inadvertently, and met his gaze.

Ning Zhi was flustered and at a loss, Ning Zhi was dumbfounded.

Jiang Chan's evil taste was greatly satisfied, the corner of his mouth curled up, and he smiled happily.