Chapter 37: Schemes

Lu Jia pursed her lips and didn’t dare ask more.

Just then, Shen Zhiwei finished stowing her things and circled to the passenger side to open the door when Rong Yi called out to her, “Little Shen, come sit in the back.”

Shen Zhiwei paused, about to speak, when Rong Yi added, “I just happen to have something I want to ask you.”

With no choice, she released the handle, turned around, and got into the back seat.

They didn’t talk about anything particularly special—just the differences between creative environments in China and abroad, and the Qinghui Cup scheduled for next year.

Rong Yi had her own sources and had heard that Song Lan might be one of the judges for the next edition. She was probing to see if Shen Zhiwei had received any news.

The girl smiled warmly and gently. “My mentor hasn’t mentioned it to me. I’ll ask when I have the chance.”

Lu Jia had never driven on the highway and wasn’t too confident about it.

Fortunately, the neighboring city wasn’t far, and taking the national road wouldn’t delay them much. She even had the leisure to chat a line or two with the two in the back when they hit red lights along the way.

They arrived close to ten-thirty. The villa gates swung open, and an old lady in a white taiji outfit with silver embroidery came out with a beaming smile to greet them.

Liang You was a retired professor from C University a few years back. She’d also taught at Z City University for several years in her youth.

Nearing seventy, she was still spry and vigorous, her steps brisk as she led the way.

After settling in the living room, Rong Yi took the initiative to ask after her, “Professor Liang, how has your health been lately?”

Liang You chuckled. “Very well, though my memory’s not what it used to be. I forget recent things easily, but events from a few or even a dozen years ago are clearer than ever.”

After some small talk, Liang You nodded in satisfaction. Only then did she turn her attention to the two young girls who had come with Rong Yi.

“Hello, Professor Liang. I’m Lu Jia, Advisor Rong’s student.”

Lu Jia bowed her head politely.

“Lu Jia?”

Liang You mulled over her name, recalling for a few seconds before saying, “You’re the student Little Yun mentioned, aren’t you? She saw you not long ago and raved about you to me—said there was no one like you on heaven or earth.”

“I was curious back then what kind of young talent could earn such nonstop praise from the Sheng family’s girl.”

Liang You had spent many years in Z City and had deep ties with the Sheng family.

It was rare in these years for that Sheng family girl to praise a student so highly. Liang You’s expression was kindly as she grasped Lu Jia’s hand and spoke to her.

She carefully appraised the obedient and pretty junior before her. Her temperament was clearly steady. Liang You felt the fine calluses on the side of Lu Jia’s knuckles—marks from long hours gripping a carving knife.

She observed quietly for a few seconds. Lu Jia met her gaze with curved eyes, humble as a junior yet poised and natural.

The wrinkles on Liang You’s face deepened with her smile. She patted the back of Lu Jia’s hand. “Not bad.”

The moment she laid eyes on Lu Jia, she felt an instant affinity.

Releasing her hand, Liang You finally turned to Shen Zhiwei beside her.

Song Lan had called a couple of days ago, saying she’d had her student bring back top-quality American ginseng especially for her.

Liang You took a slow sip of hot tea, her tone affectionate. “You’re Ah Lan’s student?”

Shen Zhiwei smiled warmly. “Yes, Teacher has always spoken fondly of you over the years.”

Liang You nodded and placed the gift box next to the items Rong Yi had brought. “It’s rare for her to have such thoughtfulness.”

Back in the day, Song Lan had been a standout in Z City University’s printmaking department. Not even in her junior year yet, she’d caught the eye of two professors, both eager to take her as a graduate student.

One was the Sheng family’s old lady, and the other was Liang You herself.

As early as Song Lan’s freshman year, Liang You had spotted her exceptional talent. During her studies, Song Lan had come to her for advice several times, and Liang You had guided her generously, privately viewing her as a future student.

But in the end, just one step short, she’d been swayed by the Sheng family’s young miss.

Liang You had felt some regret, but since it was a young person’s choice for love, she didn’t think much of it—human nature.

They hadn’t had the mentor-student fate back then, but after so many years, Song Lan still remembered her guidance. It warmed Liang You’s heart, and her attitude toward Shen Zhiwei softened considerably.

Lu Jia lowered her eyes beside them, listening as the old professor and the young woman reminisced back and forth.

Compared to the bloody history Sheng Shubai had once shared with her, it all felt especially ironic and amusing.

What a performance.

She truly couldn’t understand how someone could scheme like this, live to this day without a shred of guilt, bask in success and fame, and act so upright and candid that everyone believed she was a good person.

Lu Jia had seen many injustices online or in real life before. She’d sigh and help where she could.

But when it happened to someone she knew, and the culprit had faced no retribution all these years…

Unbidden, she recalled that night by the river in Z City, Sheng Shubai leaning on the railing, her silhouette radiating solitude.

Lost in thought, Rong Yi pulled her back into the conversation.

The real purpose of their visit today was also related to next year’s Qinghui Cup.

Following Song Lan, several young domestic students had won awards in subsequent editions, including two of Liang Lao’s own pupils.

The winning works, after being exhibited that year, were returned to their creators.

By coincidence, both students had gifted their original woodblock prints to Liang You in gratitude for her guidance, as keepsakes.

Rong Yi had brought Lu Jia this time to view the award-winning pieces in person.

Liang You rang the bell and instructed the housekeeper to unlock the attic upstairs.

“Isn’t Senior Sister planning to enter the competition too? How come…” she suddenly said she didn’t want to come today?

Lu Jia had just opened her mouth when she caught Rong Yi’s cooling gaze and swallowed the rest.

She and Shen Zhiwei were led upstairs by the housekeeper. Rong Yi had wanted to follow but was held back by Liang You’s smiling call. “Little Rong, stay here and chat with me. Otherwise, with us around, they won’t be able to focus.”

Rong Yi couldn’t refuse and looked back twice.

Seeing Lu Jia’s face as calm as ever, without any extra warmth toward Shen Zhiwei, she relaxed a bit.

The attic was spacious, hung with all sorts of print drafts and woodblocks.

Lu Jia wondered curiously if every artist had to set aside a special room for their career’s proudest works. She was still young; aside from her undergrad thesis project, she didn’t have anything else she considered perfect yet.

Even the inspirations Sheng Shubai had brought her, she felt her skills were still too shallow to capture their best essence.

Hearing her casual question, Shen Zhiwei smiled lightly. “Probably so.”

Raised abroad since childhood, she’d studied printmaking extensively.

As a child, she’d followed several other teachers until family circumstances changed, and Song Lan took her on. Nearly a decade had passed in the blink of an eye.

Those teachers, and the other seniors Song Lan had introduced her to over the years, all without exception had their own exhibition rooms.

Shen Zhiwei spoke mildly, describing how Song Lan had specially built a four-story white tower on her island manor to store years of her own works, plus a few from select students.

“Only the highest quality pieces make it in—ones you rarely see outside.”

Shen Zhiwei smiled brightly. “When you come to Country A next year, I’ll personally show you around some of the treasures inside.”

She casually mentioned a few names—pieces whose digital versions she’d once shown Lu Jia, whose eyes had lingered on them, and with whom she’d chatted more that day.

Of course, only about printmaking.

Lu Jia gazed steadily at the woodblock before her and nodded. “Sure, if there’s a chance.”

Hearing her response more crisp than in previous times, Shen Zhiwei knew she’d grasped Lu Jia’s interests. Her tone grew even more relaxed and intimate. “Lu Jia, have you really not considered becoming Teacher’s student? You’d have access to any works you want—no need to stare at screen images.”

In her heart, Lu Jia thought that just the collection in the Sheng Family Exhibition Hall would keep her browsing for decades, especially if she could keep in touch with Miss Sheng.

But she didn’t show it on her face. She just shook her head. “Professor Song might not take to me, and my family wouldn’t want me going so far away.”

The girl’s reply was earnest, her gaze at Shen Zhiwei clear and bright.

Like a pretty little deer, innocent of the world.

Shen Zhiwei’s heart softened a touch, without any displeasure at the repeated refusals—as if it were just a casual suggestion. “Printmaking abroad has developed so well these years. You could study there and return later. Travel for family visits in between is convenient too.”

Of course, this was just empty talk.

How could she bear to let such a lovely, obedient “muse” return home? What if she ran off?

Not just her—Teacher wouldn’t agree either.

After a few seconds with no response, seeing Lu Jia lower her eyes in silence, seemingly pondering the idea, Shen Zhiwei’s lips curved gently.

She didn’t press further and instead looked up to examine the other works in the room.

Every woodblock treasured by Professor Liang Lao was worth close study.

After being called down for lunch, Lu Jia skipped resting and headed straight back upstairs, not wanting to waste a second.

Shen Zhiwei chatted softly with Liang Lao for a bit before going up too.

The weather was fine, with a faint breeze wafting in through the window.

A few strands of Lu Jia’s hanging hair were lifted, swaying lightly by her temple.

Shen Zhiwei instinctively reached to tuck them back but as she leaned in, Lu Jia deftly sidestepped.

“Shen, do you want to look at this one too?”

Lu Jia played dumb. “I’ve just finished studying it. Go ahead.”

The block wasn’t large, but the carving was exceptionally fine—every stroke deliberate and pondered.

Lu Jia had spent all her time on it from morning until lunch.

As for what Shen Zhiwei had intended by leaning close, Lu Jia knew full well.

Shen Zhiwei nodded calmly. “Thanks.”

Her fingertips had just brushed Lu Jia’s clothing hem. She rubbed them together in the air and curved her eyes.

So cute, dodging her like that.

They stayed the entire afternoon. Rong Yi came by once, reminding them to rest, with the Liang family housekeeper in tow to serve tea in the adjacent parlor.

They didn’t see Liang You again until dinner.

The old lady chatted amiably about family matters, without grilling them on insights from the afternoon.

Instead, Lu Jia took the initiative, asking if there were digital archives so she could study them more back home.

Liang You waved it off. “Digital’s no match for seeing them in person. If you haven’t had your fill, stay the night and continue tomorrow morning.”

Rong Yi felt it improper and tried to politely decline on her student’s behalf.

But the elder shot her a glare. “What’s with the politeness? The child wants to see them—we’re all here for the kids, aren’t we?”

The house had everything they needed. She’d lived alone so long; it was rare to have some life in the place. Let them stay as company for this empty-nester.

With reasons like that, Rong Yi couldn’t refuse further.

But the guest rooms weren’t on the same floor.

Lu Jia was led to the second floor and saw Shen Zhiwei following up too, their doors very close.

Shen Zhiwei looked normal and smiled at her. “Good night, Lu Jia.”