When Zhu Yun arrived at Tian Xiuzhu’s studio, the whole space was filled with the aroma of pan-seared foie gras. Tian Xiuzhu stood in an apron, eyes fixed intently on the frying pan.
Zhu Yun walked over and perched on a stool at the small counter. “Your apron pulls double duty?”
Tian Xiuzhu didn’t look away from the pan. “Waste not.”
He did look clean in everything, though.
Zhu Yun rested her chin in one hand. He had owned this apron for a long time — at least two years — and it had been through both paint and cooking. Yet it still looked nearly new.
The foie gras was at about seventy percent done when Zhu Yun suddenly asked: “Do you have a thing about cleanliness?”
The question hit at exactly the wrong moment. Tian Xiuzhu’s plating motion faltered, and oil slipped off the edge of the small spatula and dripped onto the apron. Then the foie gras lost its balance and fell, and in a reflex action, Tian Xiuzhu shot out a hand and caught it.
He looked at Zhu Yun, then pointed at the oil stain now on his apron. “If I had a thing about cleanliness, I’d be knocking you out with this pan right now.”
Zhu Yun eyed the foie gras in his hand. “I’ll eat that one.”
Tian Xiuzhu gave her a look of profound disdain. “You uncouth woman.” He tossed the piece straight into the bin and made a fresh one.
Tian Xiuzhu was an excellent cook — he put genuine thought and effort into it, and almost never touched junk food.
The two of them sat at the small dining table and ate. The meal showed that he had taken considerable care: every dish prepared with attention. Zhu Yun scanned the ingredients on the counter, took in the bottle of red wine Tian Xiuzhu had opened, and made a rough estimate — this table alone hadn’t come cheap.
“Why did you go to all this trouble?” she asked.
Tian Xiuzhu: “You’ve been working so hard. Thought I’d do something nice for you.”
Zhu Yun: “A simple meal would have been perfectly fine.”
Tian Xiuzhu smiled. “It’s nothing — I’m between projects right now, completely at loose ends.”
The moment Zhu Yun heard he had free time, she sat up straighter. The matter of the Unrivalled Warlords cover art had been weighing on her, and she had been half-hoping to ask Tian Xiuzhu for help — but she couldn’t quite figure out how to bring it up. She was still hesitating when Tian Xiuzhu, as though sensing something, looked up from his soup and caught her in the act.
“Spying on me?”
“……”
He studied her. “Something on your mind?”
She shook her head and asked, casually: “Any plans for your free time? Going back to France for a break?”
Tian Xiuzhu: “No.”
Zhu Yun sat up slightly — and was caught again by Tian Xiuzhu’s gaze. He set down his chopsticks and leaned back into his chair, smiling. “Ms. Zhu, have a look at yourself — your eyes are practically shining.” He picked up his napkin and dabbed at his mouth. “Out with it. What do you need?”
Zhu Yun scratched the side of her nose. She joked around with Tian Xiuzhu plenty, but she was clear on what he was — a genuine artist. Young as he was, he had already accomplished a great deal.
One of his paintings at auction could easily be worth more than the entire budget they had poured into the project.
After considerable hesitation, Zhu Yun gave him a brief account of where things stood. Tian Xiuzhu listened and said: “Sure, I can paint it.”
Zhu Yun looked at him. Tian Xiuzhu said: “I thought it was something serious. Send me the specifications for the cover art tomorrow.”
Zhu Yun: “Are you sure this won’t interfere with your actual work?”
Tian Xiuzhu: “A painting is a painting. It doesn’t matter what kind.”
Zhu Yun: “Will it take too much of your time?”
Tian Xiuzhu laughed. “It really is true what they say — one trade understands nothing of another. Do you remember last year when you helped me with that project — upgrading the browsing system for the city art museum?”
Zhu Yun: “I remember.”
That time, Tian Xiuzhu had been approached on behalf of the art museum’s director, who had once been his teacher. He couldn’t refuse the favour, but social situations weren’t his strength and he preferred not to deal with too many strangers, so he had ended up coming to Zhu Yun.
Zhu Yun was very familiar with the art museum, and with the painting inside it called Jagged Peaks — she agreed without a second’s hesitation.
Tian Xiuzhu recalled: “I thought it would take at least a few months. You handed it back to me in three days.”
Zhu Yun: “That wasn’t a difficult one.”
Tian Xiuzhu: “This isn’t either.”
He agreed to help. Zhu Yun relaxed — then thought of something else. “Oh, and — our company budget is a bit tight at the moment, so in terms of payment…”
Tian Xiuzhu looked startled.
“No payment?”
Zhu Yun’s face warmed slightly. She found the situation genuinely embarrassing and silently resolved to cover the cost herself.
“There will definitely be payment — how much do you think is fair?”
Tian Xiuzhu thought for a moment, then pressed something into Zhu Yun’s arms. She looked down — it was the apron, now bearing the oil stain from earlier. Tian Xiuzhu lifted his chin and issued his demand with no particular air of authority:
“That’ll do for payment. I want it as clean as before.” And then he added: “Hand-washed.”
---
Zhu Yun came into work the next morning visibly lighter.
Zhao Teng noticed and couldn’t help remarking: “You’ve recharged remarkably fast.”
In sharp contrast, Guo Shijie beside her had clearly not managed to rest, and was still adrift in his sea of exhaustion.
Zhu Yun went over and found him trying to start the promotional image from scratch. His hand, gripping the pen, was trembling so slightly that he didn’t even seem to know what he was drawing anymore.
Zhu Yun took the pen from him.