A Moment Too Late (GL) - Chapter 14

“What do you mean?”

In the silence, Shu Yubai sat while Nan Xue stood. Shu Yubai took small sips of water, her eyes fixed on Nan Xue through the steam rising from the cup.

Nan Xue’s long eyelashes were damp.

It was quite touching.

“……”

Nan Xue didn’t respond; the words seemed to be stuck in her throat.

Shu Yubai looked at her and smiled, then got up to check the little dog’s ceramic food bowl, feeding it before heading to the kitchen. There was some clattering, followed by the sound of running water.

On this snowy night, the chill was palpable. Vehicles passed by on the quiet streets, and street lamps cast light on the window. The eaves had accumulated a thick layer of snow.

The little dog came over, playing with the hem of Nan Xue’s pants.

Nan Xue sat on the sofa, her eyes following Shu Yubai’s figure. The slender waist of the latter swayed gently, affecting Nan Xue deeply. Nan Xue rested her white fingers on her chin, thinking, Are you this gentle with others? Are you this close with others too?

With others…

Shu Yubai came out, shaking her wet hands, and happened to meet Nan Xue’s gaze.

Her eyes were clean and gentle, like the water in Jiangnan, with a unique, lingering charm. Nan Xue and she locked eyes for a moment before Nan Xue looked away. Her ears felt warm, as if she could still sense Shu Yubai’s breath.

“Want something to eat?”

Shu Yubai held a plate of green grapes, freshly washed, and held one up to Nan Xue’s lips.

Nan Xue’s clear eyes shifted to her.

Her cherry lips slightly parted, and her tongue gently brushed against Shu Yubai’s fingertips, which made Shu Yubai’s heart warm. The touch of her tongue was soft and warm.

Shu Yubai instinctively looked at Nan Xue, and their gazes met briefly.

Nan Xue suddenly stood up.

The window was ajar, letting in the wind and snow.

Her dark hair fluttered, revealing small, lustrous earlobes, as warm as red jade.

Without looking at Shu Yubai, she suddenly became distant and cold, saying, “I… I’ll go to bed now.”

••••

After resigning, there was still about a month before her official departure. Even so, the work assigned to her was less than others, so Shu Yubai had much more free time.

Resigning meant losing a stable source of income.

She had to start preparing for her next exhibition.

For a painter to become famous, participating in exhibitions was essential.

But everything seemed to be at an impasse.

She thought of Xiao Yi.

The next day, Shu Yubai checked her phone and followed the navigation to the studio.

It was a tourist area, with a lake at the foot of a snow-covered mountain, now frozen. Tourists with DSLRs were taking pictures on the wooden bridge in the middle of the lake. Black wild ducks, raised by farmers, waddled through the snow, adding some liveliness to the cold, desolate scene.

The lakeside had guesthouses covered in withered green vines.

Some were youth hostels.

Others were private villas maintained by locals.

Shu Yubai stood outside a group of white-walled, dark-tiled buildings, looking down at her screen.

Xiao Yi had sent her a message:

[I’ve asked Dong Ling to pick you up.]

Shu Yubai replied:

[Okay, thank you.]

After a while, a girl with short, tousled hair stood at the end of the gravel path.

The girl was young, not tall, wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a beige plaid skirt. Her shoulder-length hair and bright eyes, with red lips, gave her a slightly youthful appearance.

She looked at Shu Yubai, smiled, and waved. “Sister Yubai.”

The wind had picked up, making her face a bit cold. She covered her cheeks with her hands and jogged over.

“What happened to your arm?” Shu Yubai asked softly.

The girl rolled up her sleeves, revealing her fair arms covered in paint—green and white splatters everywhere.

“I was just painting,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I accidentally got dirty.”

“Go wash up quickly.”

Shu Yubai gently adjusted the girl’s raised collar, saying, “Hurry back inside, it’s freezing out here.”

The girl, Dong Ling, was an assistant at Xiao Yi’s studio, an undergraduate who helped Xiao Yi with painting and miscellaneous tasks during her spare time. During her graduate studies, many graduate students would bring art exam students, and Dong Ling was one of the high school students Xiao Yi tutored, entering the fine arts academy’s oil painting department with the top score in her major.

She was quite a spirited young girl.

A gust of wind lifted a strand of her hair, and Shu Yubai gently smiled, helping to smooth it down.

Dong Ling looked up at her with bright eyes.

“Sister Yubai, how’s your hand?”

“Much better, thanks.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dong Ling said, “I heard from the teacher that you plan to start painting again?”

Shu Yubai thought for a moment. “Yes, sort of.”

“Then, good luck!”

Dong Ling smiled again and added earnestly, “I’ve always admired your paintings.”

Shu Yubai simply smiled at her.

The scenery around here was beautiful, often frequented by painters for sketching. Shu Yubai gazed at the antique-style buildings at the foot of the mountain, covered in snow. The dark tiles on the roofs were covered with snowflakes, and icicles hung from the eaves, shimmering in the sunlight.

Walking through various courtyards, Dong Ling’s snow boots came to a stop.

“We’ve arrived.”

Xiao Yi’s studio was not large. Outside were stone walls, with a wooden sign carved with green characters. The light was dim, making it hard to see. Two paper lanterns cast a soft orange glow. Dong Ling pushed open the door, which creaked.

The yard was well-kept. A woman was bending over, sweeping the stone path covered with snow.

“Aunt Xu.”

Dong Ling greeted her, and the woman looked up with a smile.

Shu Yubai followed Dong Ling inside.

The interior was elegantly clean.

The first floor was a reception area, with a teapot on the table, its lid set aside, emitting steam.

Dong Ling led her upstairs. “The teacher is giving a class.”

For painters, there are generally two sources of income: selling paintings and teaching.

Even if not in need of money, many painters enjoy teaching to expand their fame.

Students usually include those with insufficient painting skills or art students.

On the second floor, Dong Ling gently knocked on the door. An inviting female voice said, “Come in.” She opened the door to find Xiao Yi teaching a group of students, demonstrating a painting technique. Xiao Yi looked up, briefly acknowledging Shu Yubai with a smile.

The students, sitting in a circle, also looked over.

After a brief exchange of glances, Xiao Yi introduced Shu Yubai to the students: “This young lady with long hair is my classmate, and she paints even better than I do.”

The students turned their gazes toward Shu Yubai, their eyes shining.

Someone jokingly asked, “Is she the teacher’s girlfriend?”

Shu Yubai had just walked in, her face weathered by the cold, her long hair cascading down her back. Her face was serene and charming. She didn’t catch the joke, but Xiao Yi did and responded earnestly, “No. I wish she were.”

Dong Ling, feeling awkward, closed the door and led Shu Yubai to another room.

“This is where the teacher usually paints.”

The door creaked open, and Shu Yubai looked around. The room had white windows, and a square wooden table was positioned under the window. An unfinished sketch was laid out on a felt mat, with a thin layer of rice paper over it, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

Xiao Yi’s notebook was placed aside, its screen still on.

Shu Yubai pinched a corner of the rice paper and observed it closely.

“This is the teacher’s work,” Dong Ling said with a hint of admiration in her voice. “Look how beautifully she paints.”

“Hmm,” Shu Yubai gently placed it back and asked, “Is she still focusing on Song Dynasty painting?”

“Yes. And you, Sister Yubai?”

“I’ve tried various styles,” Shu Yubai said softly. “I like them all.”

“Then why did you choose oil painting?” Dong Ling asked. “The teacher said your strength isn’t in Western painting.”

“…”

Shu Yubai paused for a long time before explaining slowly:

“My hand isn’t as precise as it used to be. I can’t do the delicate work anymore.”

Song Dynasty painting emphasizes lines, like the feathers of birds, the outlines of plum blossoms, or the softly falling snow. It relies on the sensitivity of the wrist and fingers.

Shu Yubai had explored both oil and traditional Chinese painting. As a child, her mother taught her to copy from the “Jiesi Garden” painting manual. When she grew up and chose a major, she became more interested in Western painting due to aesthetic fatigue, studying oil painting at the art academy for four years. Later, she returned to her original field during her graduate studies.

Her current style…

Those who liked her work praised it as having a Lin Fengmian quality;

Those who didn’t like it criticized her for ruining both styles.

Her strongest suit, she couldn’t paint anymore.

Dong Ling looked at her with a moment of sympathy.

She poured tea for Shu Yubai and let her rest in the room while she gently closed the door and went downstairs.

Outside the window, the mountains looked like blue gemstones covered in snow.

It was completely silent.

The rice paper fluttered gently. Seeing the familiar outline brush, she couldn’t help but sit down. Holding the bamboo brush lightly, she applied some pressure, but felt a sharp pain in her hand. Her fingers trembled, causing the brush to drop.

A dark blot appeared on the paper.

Shu Yubai remained stiff for a moment, a hint of self-mockery in her eyes.

The light green tea still emitted steam. She glanced at it briefly, twisted the door open, and carefully descended the stairs.

Dong Ling was drawing at a wooden table near the entrance on the first floor.

She had her head lowered, her dark hair in a whirl, looking very focused.

“Sister Yubai, could you help me with this?”

Dong Ling held out her sketch.

Shu Yubai approached and carefully reviewed it, saying, “You’ve brought back the pencil sketch, so you need to adjust it yourself first.” Her long hair brushed against Dong Ling’s cheek lightly, causing a slight tickle. Dong Ling glanced sideways, noticing Shu Yubai sitting beside her, gently erasing the draft and adjusting it with a pencil. In a soft voice, she said, “Pay attention to the spacing and leave some white space.”

Her hair carried a faint, delicate fragrance.

Dong Ling’s mind wandered slightly.

It was as if there were people who would always be like a cup of warm, mellow tea.

“Sister,” Dong Ling’s gaze fell on her right hand with concern. “Does your hand hurt? It looked like it was trembling earlier.”

“Hmm?” Shu Yubai looked up, surprised by her attentiveness. She shook her head, her brows and eyes soft. “It’s fine, not serious.”

Dong Ling continued drawing with her head lowered and asked, “Is this okay?”

Shu Yubai, not satisfied with what she saw, lowered her own head, gently encircling Dong Ling’s hand with her right hand, guiding her in drawing.

“This way, the strokes have varying weights.”

Her long hair covered half of her side profile, her tone was gentle, and her voice sounded very pleasant.

Dong Ling glanced at her, feeling her cheeks warm slightly.