Beg Me to Remarry
Chapter 288: The Always Losing Game

Chapter 288: Chapter 288: The Always Losing Game

Fu Han felt a warmth in her heart and replied, "You too."

As she lay in bed looking up, her room was filled with countless balloons, all floating beneath the ceiling. There were balloons with various animal patterns, brightly colored and somewhat tacky when mixed together.

These were the balloons He Xing had bought for her from a park they passed by on the day she was discharged from the hospital. He escorted the trove of balloons all the way home and it was also he who placed them in Fu Han’s room.

A smile crept onto Fu Han’s lips unbidden. Who said these balloons were tacky? They were so warm, just like the feeling he gave her, like the gentle sun on a winter afternoon, the most comforting presence.

Unfortunately, after a couple of days, some balloons had deflated. Perhaps in a few more days, they wouldn’t be able to fly into the sky anymore, and they would be discarded as trash.

This world is just like that, you are valued when you’re useful, but when you aren’t, you’re ruthlessly abandoned.

Realizing her thoughts were straying, Fu Han quickly interrupted her own whimsical musings, mainly because such thoughts brought her no good at the moment.

If there was still the purest, most primitive love in this world, then hers and He Xing’s relationship must be it.

The affection of youth, free from material desires, that love was like clear crystal, devoid of any impurities.

...

Nan Qing’s art gallery.

It was already dusk, and the mall had become crowded, but normally, Nan Qing’s gallery would be about to close at this time.

She opened this gallery to experience life, and transactions were completely up to her whim.

Several times, burly men with gold chains wanted to buy paintings from her gallery, willing to pay any price, but without exception, Nan Qing would send them away, feeling that they were unworthy of her art.

The gallery was as tranquil as usual today, with the occasional visitor quietly browsing around. Whenever someone came in, Nan Qing would lift her head to glance, then lower it again to continue her work.

That day, two easels were set up in the gallery, one was hers, and the other belonged to Wang Yixuan.

For the past few days, she and Wang Yixuan had been spending hours in the gallery each day, each painting a picture and then exchanging them to add color.

They belonged to different artistic schools. Nan Qing had focused solely on oil painting before, but now she was starting to learn the traditional Chinese painting style from Wang Yixuan. Conversely, Wang Yixuan had begun to dabble in oil painting, and they joked that each was the other’s half-teacher.

Nan Qing carefully made her final stroke, and then with a look of triumph, she threw her paintbrush into the jar and placed her hands on her hips, "I won, so you’re treating today."

Wang Yixuan, without lifting his head, was intently looking at the canvas before him. Today, he was painting a field of sunflowers, a countless number of them densely packed. But on closer inspection, you would realize that he had outlined the shape of each sunflower, and even just by looking at the painting, you could imagine the sunflowers swaying with the breeze in your mind.

Nan Qing looked at the landscape painting she had made, a clear green river with a brownish flatboat floating on it, and an old man in black clothing with a bamboo hat rowing—an aesthetically beautiful painting with a lovely metaphor.

It was a concept she had thought hard about the night before, and she was very satisfied with the result. Yet compared to Wang Yixuan’s work, she felt hers was too plain, at a disadvantage.

But yesterday, she painted a field of lavender under the sunlight, a vast expanse of purple; Wang Yixuan painted a cottage in the woods, very simple and elegant, and she still felt she had lost.

So, it wasn’t really about what was painted, but the skill of the artist.

Clearly, even though Nan Qing was not willing to admit defeat, she still felt Wang Yixuan’s work was better than hers.

Under Nan Qing’s watchful gaze, Wang Yixuan made his final touch. He tossed his paint-coated brush into the jar, instantly tinting the pale green water slightly yellow before the colors merged together.

Wang Yixuan casually tapped Nan Qing on the head, "Treating you to a meal is no problem. You’ve sold quite a few of my paintings these days, and the money from those is almost enough for me to go around the world again. I should be thanking you."

His knock was a sturdy one, not just for show.

Nan Qing’s face twisted in pain; she wasn’t one to suffer quietly. Without a second’s pause, she grabbed the flesh on Wang Yixuan’s arm, "Then treat me to the Michelin Restaurant. I haven’t been there in a long time."

Wang Yixuan inhaled sharply due to the pain, but even then, his face didn’t change, still looking handsome. He tried to pull her "claws" away while saying, "What’s so good about Michelin? It’s expensive, and the servings are small. If you want to go, ask your parents to treat you. I don’t have the spare cash to splurge there."

"Didn’t you say you used to work there part-time, playing the piano?" Nan Qing smirked with curiosity, asking, "Wang Yixuan, what exactly are you? I see you can paint and play the piano well. Your family must be well off, but how come I’ve never heard of a wealthy Wang family?"

While admiring his "masterpiece," Wang Yixuan casually replied, "You think you know everything? There’s a lot you don’t know. Besides, when did I ever say my family was well off?"

Nan Qing rolled her eyes ungraciously. She disliked how he always turned serious questions into a joke and would never tell her anything.

She couldn’t be bothered to pry and casually asked, "How long do you plan to stay in A City? Isn’t your travel money enough? Why haven’t you left yet?"

"I’m helping you out, aren’t I? I can’t just bail halfway," Wang Yixuan replied, his mouth lifting into a smile that revealed his dimples. "You mentioned Su Cheng has been looking for chats with you lately, haven’t you? That just shows this little home-wrecker is somewhat useful."

His laughter from the conversation echoed through the quiet gallery, standing out sharply and making Nan Qing’s scalp tingle with discomfort.

She said helplessly, "Please, can you not play the role of a mistress every day? People who don’t know better might think I’m fickle."

Wang Yixuan ignored her and started rummaging through the cabinet to find some frames, beginning to mount his painting.

About ten minutes later, his striking, lifelike sunflower painting had been mounted. He carried the painting around the gallery, looking for a prominent spot to hang it.

Then he also framed Nan Qing’s painting and hung it on the wall.

Next, he walked to the wine cabinet, poured two glasses of red wine, picked up one glass, and downed it in one gulp. After finishing the wine, he stared at the empty glass in front of him, as if pondering something. After a short while, he looked at Nan Qing, "Do you know what your painting is missing?"