Chapter 8: Oil Painting

Sunlight spilled onto the treetops, casting dappled, pale shadows. Occasionally, a few cicada calls—rare in the city center—could be heard, not annoying.

The daylight waned. The afterglow of the setting sun faded. Lights began to twinkle on.

All afternoon, Gu Yu had been researching Un Jardin sur le Nil.

She specifically checked the official website. It was a fruity-floral fragrance. She sprayed a bit on her wrist. The top and middle notes had long since faded, but the base note was rich, lingering, and lush, reminding her of sweltering midsummer.

Did Jiang Bomu think she was as passionate as midsummer?

But perfume, like how a thousand readers have a thousand Hamlets, varied from person to person. Her interpretation was this; Jiang Bomu’s might be different.

Gu Yu once again regretted not asking in detail back then. Asking now would seem too abrupt.

At half past five, she was punctually there to help, asking curiously, “What are we eating tonight?”

A subtle, delicate fragrance drifted over. Under the guise of washing vegetables, Jiang Bomu subtly leaned forward, unnaturally distancing herself an inch. Amidst the splashing water, she answered, “Fish.”

The fish had already been cleaned and was quietly resting in the marinade, waiting for Jiang Bomu to begin working on it.

Gu Yu cleared her throat lightly, her gaze falling on the countertop. A phone screen was lit. She glanced over—it was a tutorial for steamed crucian carp.

Jiang Bomu explained, “It’s my first time making this dish. It might not taste great.”

Gu Yu declared with absolute confidence, “Even if it’s awful, I can still eat three big bowls!”

Half an hour later, the steamed crucian carp, emitting fragrant steam, was brought out. Gu Yu couldn’t stop praising, “Sister, you’re way too modest!”

She kept her word and truly ate three big bowls. Half the fish and two bowls of fish soup went into her stomach. But Jiang Bomu only drank half a bowl of fish soup.

Gu Yu asked, “Don’t you like fish?”

“I need to start losing weight,” Jiang Bomu said, gently sipping her fish soup. “I can’t eat too much lately.”

Gu Yu’s heart stirred. “Is it because you took the Courtesan Belle role?”

She really, really wanted to see Jiang Bomu play a Courtesan Belle!

Jiang Bomu nodded. “It’s almost settled. Barring any surprises, the contract will be signed tomorrow.”

Gu Yu immediately asked, “Then will you practice lines with Tao Tao? Can I watch?”

Perhaps her tone was too eager, because she noticed Jiang Bomu glancing her way. She quickly added, “It’s my first time seeing someone prep for a shoot. I’m a bit curious.”

Although her grandmother was a director, she had never been to a film set.

“If you’re willing, you can also practice lines with me,” Jiang Bomu said without looking up. “You just need to read the lines aloud.”

Gu Yu blinked slowly, overwhelmed by the sudden great surprise. Wouldn’t that mean she could just sit and wait for Jiang Bomu to… seduce her?

She immediately agreed: “Sure!”

To make her line delivery sound natural, and also to permanently steal Tao Tao’s job, Gu Yu crammed in a few free line-reading lessons, eagerly awaiting the day they’d rehearse together.

Unexpectedly, three or four days passed, and Jiang Bomu showed no sign of wanting to practice lines.

Left with no choice, Gu Yu subtly asked Tao Tao about it.

Tao Tao: 【This time Miss Mu is only filming for five days, so her scenes aren’t many. Usually, she only practices lines a week before filming.】

Before Gu Yu could reply, Tao Tao sent another sticker, one that said ‘Thanks for your hard work.’

Gu Yu was bewildered.

Tao Tao: 【Thanks to Teacher Gu for doing my job for me. My eternal gratitude for this great favor!】

Gu Yu burst out laughing and asked: 【You don’t like doing line reads? I think it’s quite interesting.】

Tao Tao: 【Sigh, when a hobby becomes a profession, no matter how interesting it was, it just loses its charm~】

Gu Yu understood. It was like when she was drawing. Even though she loved it, when she lacked inspiration yet had to deliver on a deadline, she couldn’t help going berserk, wanting the world to explode.

She decisively replied: 【Words of wisdom.】

After a bit more idle banter, a courier called her phone. Ten minutes later, the package rode the elevator all the way up to the 21st floor. Gu Yu opened the door and brought the delivery inside.

The day she gave the flowers, she had also ordered a custom digital oil painting online. Today, it finally arrived.

As she was opening the package, Jiang Bomu happened to come out. She looked drowsy, her smooth, long hair slightly tousled, holding a glass in her hand. It seemed she’d just woken from a nap and came out for water.

Seeing Gu Yu, she asked while pouring water, “Didn’t nap?”

Her voice was also a bit low and husky, like the soft tones of a stringed instrument. If one didn’t look at her face and only heard her voice, they would certainly imagine a gentle, quiet beauty.

Gu Yu’s heart fluttered from the sound. The small knife in her hand trembled. She immediately steadied it and continued carefully opening the packaging. Once it was fully unwrapped, she breathed a sigh of relief and finally answered, “I don’t like naps. Every time I wake up from one, I feel nauseous and gross.”

Jiang Bomu drank half her glass of water and nodded faintly.

She straightened up, preparing to head back to her room to read the script, when Gu Yu called out to her.

“Sister, don’t you want to see the gift I got you?”

A gift?

Jiang Bomu turned around, surprised. The girl before her stood gracefully under the French window. Behind her was the proud, bright sunlight, yet it was no match for her radiant, pure smile.

Jiang Bomu felt a momentary daze and quickly lowered her gaze.

“What is it?”

Gu Yu brought out the framed canvas and patiently explained, “This is a photo of the sunset I took a few days ago. I had a custom digital oil painting made of it. All you need to do is fill in these areas with the corresponding numbered paints. It’s essentially a coloring game. When you’re bored, or when your emotions are fluctuating, this is the perfect thing to play with; it’s very therapeutic!”

The size she customized was 40×40 centimeters, with twelve colors in total. If one spent about an hour a day on it, finishing this painting would take roughly ten days.

Jiang Bomu looked at it carefully and asked, “Is there a reference image?”

Gu Yu felt a bit embarrassed showing her the original painting she’d done, so she showed her the photo she’d taken instead.

“It has a very artistic feel,” Jiang Bomu commented. “You’re also suited to learn photography.”

Gu Yu felt light-headed from the praise. Before she could respond, Jiang Bomu continued, “Let’s start painting now.”

Gu Yu blinked, took a moment to process, then agreed. She filled a paper cup halfway with water and placed a paintbrush inside, explaining, “You should soak the brush in water first before using it.”

A minute later, she took it out and felt it; soft enough. She pulled out a tissue to wipe the excess water off, looked at the colors on the canvas, and dipped a bit of white paint first to apply.

She imparted her technique: “Better to start with the lighter colors. Even if you paint outside the lines, it’s fine. When you add the darker colors later, they’ll cover it up—you won’t even notice.”

Jiang Bomu indicated she’d learned and also picked up a paintbrush, sitting opposite her. Dipping into the white paint, she began painting alongside her.

The distribution of each color was winding and intricate. It was Jiang Bomu’s first time painting, so inevitably her hand trembled, and she painted into the area of another color. Determined not to make further mistakes, she concentrated even more diligently.

Unknowingly, the random thoughts in her mind gradually dissipated, leaving only tranquility.

Gu Yu finished painting that area of white and gently lifted her eyes to look at Jiang Bomu.

She was applying the color with focus and seriousness, her long, curled lashes lowered, concealing those captivating eyes.

Just as she was staring, entranced, a sudden glimmer caught her eye. Gu Yu’s gaze shifted downward and found a soft, faint light flickering on Jiang Bomu’s plain, neat fingernails, moving slightly with her small motions.

It was the light overhead, landing perfectly on her fingertips.

Gu Yu gently set down her paintbrush and cupped her chin in her hands, watching Jiang Bomu intently.

Even though it was just a half-finished piece, it seemed she genuinely liked the gift.

When the light on the table had lazily shifted an inch, Jiang Bomu raised her head. Gu Yu didn’t avoid her gaze; instead, she flashed a bright smile and praised, “Sister, you painted that so well! Not a single bit out of line!”

This was even higher praise than saying it was simply beautiful. Jiang Bomu also revealed a light smile, like a child in kindergarten receiving a big red flower, and the very first one to get it.

She lowered her head to admire her own masterpiece, murmuring, “This is my first time ever painting, you know.”

Gu Yu asked, puzzled, “But there should have been art classes when we were kids, right?”

“When I was little…” Jiang Bomu pressed her lips together slightly. “That was all twenty years ago. I’ve long since forgotten.”

At this moment, the sun was blazing outside, yet she seemed like an umbrella someone had forgotten in the heavy rain—her expression fragile and flustered.

She didn’t look like someone who had simply forgotten.

Just as Gu Yu was about to inquire, Jiang Bomu spoke first: “Let’s just leave this painting here. I’m going to go read the script.”

This woman, otherwise always so composed, practically fled.

Gu Yu was stunned.

It seemed Jiang Bomu harbored many untold secrets.

But she lacked the qualification to open that door to her heart.

While preparing dinner, Gu Yu cut tomatoes and simultaneously stole glances at Jiang Bomu’s expression—after assisting for so long, she could occasionally split her attention.

Jiang Bomu had already recovered her composure and was calmly cracking eggs into a bowl.

Gu Yu had snacked in the afternoon and wasn’t very hungry. Jiang Bomu decided to make seaweed egg drop soup—simple and delicious.

As an adult, Gu Yu naturally knew how to read the room. She couldn’t bring up that topic again; it would only push Jiang Bomu further away. So she acted as if nothing had happened, chatting about other things in a light tone.

“Sister, just how many dishes can you make?” she marveled. “You’re even better than my mom. My mom can only make instant noodles.”

Jiang Bomu smiled faintly and asked, “Could cooking talent be hereditary?”

She was referring to Gu Yu also only being able to make instant noodles. Gu Yu blushed a little and mumbled, “Probably.”

But she quickly reaffirmed her resolve: “I will definitely learn diligently.”

Hearing this, Jiang Bomu said, “Then you’ll make breakfast tomorrow.”

Gu Yu gasped sharply. The kitchen would explode!

She hurriedly said, “Right now I can only cut tomatoes. Let me observe and learn for a few more days first.”

Through several days of effort, her tomato-cutting skills were now perfected—uniform size, lightning speed.

“In matters like cooking, one must take the first step eventually,” Jiang Bomu said flatly. “Tomorrow, you’ll try frying eggs. I’ll handle the rest.”

Seeing her firm stance, Gu Yu had no choice but to agree.

To prepare for the worst, however, she stated the worst possible outcome upfront: “What if the kitchen explodes?”

“As long as you’re unharmed, it’s fine.”

Everything was ready. Jiang Bomu poured cooking oil into the wok and conveniently turned on the range hood.

She turned her face towards a worried and frightened Gu Yu, and amidst the faint hum of the machine, she spoke slowly.

“And even if something does happen, it’s okay.”

“Sister will support you.”