“Is it too late?”
Lan Yan did not insist further. She stepped back to make space for Liang Jingchuan and headed toward the pre-processing room connected to the reception room.
She pressed down the handle to open the door, paused, and turned back to Liang Jingchuan. “This way.”
Liang Jingchuan nodded and followed.
Lan Yan cleared the scattered items from the tabletop to free up enough space. “Just put it on the table.”
The glass surface should have been cleaned before he came; there was no dust.
“I’ll take off the frame first and check it.” Lan Yan reached out.
Liang Jingchuan picked up the frame first and flipped it over to the back.
Lan Yan paused. “Even if you do all my work, I won’t charge you a penny less.”
“I haven’t graduated yet. I don’t have the skills.”
“…”
Liang Jingchuan smiled and stepped back, his posture indicating that the rest was now in her hands.
The backboard clips were slightly rusted but still intact. She unfastened the clips, removed the backboard, and carefully took out the painting core, flipping it back to the front.
On the mottled, moldy rice paper, several pale brown booklice scattered in escape.
Lan Yan paid it no mind and examined the painting core as a whole. “Do you need it urgently?”
“Can it be restored?”
“Yes. But I’m still working on another client’s painting right now. It might take another week or two. If you’re in a hurry, I can ask my colleague to…”
“No rush.”
“Their skills are excellent too. No need to worry.”
“I know.” Liang Jingchuan smiled. “But I’m not in a hurry.”
Lan Yan fell silent for a moment and nodded. “I’ll do an assessment first. If you’re pressed for time, you can go take care of your own business. We’ll send out the assessment form and quote later. You can come back when you have time to sign the consent form and pay a deposit—or we can handle it online if you’re busy.”
Footsteps sounded from the doorway.
Lan Yan looked up. Sister Rong entered carrying a tray.
Sister Rong smiled and said, “Mr. Liang, why don’t you rest outside and have some tea?”
The pre-processing room had tables and chairs too. Liang Jingchuan casually pointed. “Just leave it here, thanks.”
Some clients were particularly concerned about their artifacts’ condition and participated in the entire “check-up.” Sister Rong was used to it and set down the tray before leaving.
Lan Yan glanced at Liang Jingchuan. He did not seem pressed for time and showed no intention of leaving.
She had fulfilled the basic disclosure obligations. She turned to a nearby drawer, took out an assessment form, clipped it to a clipboard, and walked back to the table.
She leaned in close to the painting core and examined it carefully.
It was a calligraphy piece with a red seal stamp and the signature “Liang Gaoyi.”
“…Your grandfather?” Lan Yan vaguely remembered but was not sure.
“Yes.”
Liang Jingchuan took his mother’s surname.
Lan Yan had always felt repulsed toward Liang Jingchuan and Liang Xiaoxia. Though curious, she had never asked. But after more than a decade of living together, she had inevitably overheard Liang Xiaoxia chatting with Lan Junwen about the past.
Liang Xiaoxia had divorced Liang Jingchuan’s biological father early on, around when Liang Jingchuan was seven or eight. There were no dramatic reasons; their relationship had simply run its course. The father did not want the child, so Liang Xiaoxia raised him herself and changed his surname at the police station.
Afterward, Liang’s father relocated to another city for work, remarried, and had another son. To help care for the grandson, his parents moved away from South City as well.
They had little contact for years. On Liang Jingchuan’s side, his father’s relatives were just abstract concepts.
Naturally, he was closer to his mother’s side.
Liang Jingchuan’s grandmother was still alive and lived with his uncle in Vancouver. In her old age, her health did not permit long-distance travel, so she had not returned to the country in years. Every year or two, Liang Jingchuan would visit her abroad with Liang Xiaoxia.
His grandfather had passed away during his sophomore year of college.
The first easing of Lan Yan’s antagonistic relationship with Liang Jingchuan had been because of this.
Liang Jingchuan and Liang Xiaoxia had rushed back for the funeral, and Lan Yan had gone with her father to pay respects.
In the somber funeral hall, the young man wore all black with a white armband, standing beside Liang Xiaoxia, bowing and thanking the mourners.
His face was pale, expressionless, eyes downcast, emotions completely concealed—like an out-of-focus black-and-white photograph.
Lan Yan thought of how she had bid farewell to her own mother in the exact same scene.
After that, the overt malice stopped, but her dislike only grew: she disliked him, them, and it made her dislike seem less justified over time.
Lan Yan lowered her gaze and said, “The level is quite good.”
Since it was a family heirloom, it made sense to entrust it to someone he knew. Liang Jingchuan’s insistence on having her restore it personally was understandable.
Liang Jingchuan hummed in acknowledgment. “He practiced when he was young.”
Lan Yan opened a drawer, took out a dry brush, and lightly swept the surface of the painting core to remove loose dust.
She paused, turned to Liang Jingchuan, and said, “There’s dust. Stand back a bit.”
“It’s fine.” Liang Jingchuan did not move. “No mask?”
“No need.” While performing basic physical cleaning, Lan Yan asked, “After restoration, keep it as a framed piece, or…?”
“Make it into a hanging scroll.”
“How do you want it mounted?”
“You decide.”
Lan Yan nodded and said no more.
After initial dust removal, she set down the brush and began the most meticulous damage assessment of each part of the painting core.
The street where Mend Orchid Studio was located had many old houses designated as cultural heritage buildings, lined with tall trees over thirty years old. As a one-way street, there was little traffic, and the building was extremely quiet.
Fully focused, Lan Yan almost blended into the silence.
Liang Jingchuan’s gaze fell on her, unreservedly lingering on her hands, wrists… the bridge of her nose, crow-feather-like eyelashes, translucent pinkish ears… and back to her hands.
A certain stain was unclear; she needed to shift position. Lan Yan stepped back without looking and accidentally bumped her elbow into the person standing just behind her side.
She turned and saw a flicker of gray-green daylight in Liang Jingchuan’s eyes. Their gazes met for an instant before he immediately lowered his, softly saying “Sorry” and stepping aside.
She had bumped into him, yet he apologized. How strange.
Moments later, Lan Yan set down her tools, took a cotton swab, dipped it in water, and gently rubbed the ink to check for color bleeding.
After filling out the assessment form, she did a final overall check, removed it from the clipboard, and handed it to Liang Jingchuan.
He took it and looked down.
The header read “Damage Classification Form for Paper Repair Items,” listing basic information and damage details. Damages were categorized into “paper damages” and “ink and seal pigment damages,” with subcategories like “water stains,” “dirt stains,” “creases”… “flaking,” “bleeding,” and so on.
He glanced over it and handed it back to Lan Yan.
Lan Yan called toward the door, “Sister Rong, I’ve finished the assessment. Could you come quote it?”
Sister Rong responded from outside that she would be right there.
Liang Jingchuan asked, “Do you charge based on the assessment form?”
Lan Yan nodded.
“I thought it was based on the artwork’s own value.”
“I once helped my master restore a painting that sold for a hundred million at Christie’s. If we charged that way, one job would let us close shop.” Lan Yan explained seriously. “Restoring ancient artifacts is like treating an illness. The hospital doesn’t charge more just because the patient is a billionaire. We charge only based on the condition and treatment methods.”
Liang Jingchuan nodded. “If no skilled craftsman is found, better to keep the original as is.”
Lan Yan was slightly taken aback.
“Restoring ancient artifacts is like treating an illness” and “If no skilled craftsman is found, better to keep the original as is” both came from Zhou Jiazhou’s Treatise on Mounting from the Ming Dynasty, a comprehensive work summarizing ancient Chinese mounting techniques and culture.
Liang Jingchuan smiled. “I watched a bit of a documentary.”
“…You really plan to switch careers midway?”
Liang Jingchuan lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her face as if earnestly seeking advice. “Is it too late?”
Lan Yan was somewhat puzzled and could not quite tell if he was joking.
“The studio holds experience classes irregularly. If you’re really interested, you can come try one.” That was Lan Yan’s final response. The field was niche anyway; there was no need to turn away potential enthusiasts.
“Good. Remind me when classes start.” His tone sounded serious.
Lan Yan glanced at Liang Jingchuan, wanting to say something but holding back.
For the first time, she realized she could not see through this person.
Tap, tap, tap came footsteps from outside.
Sister Rong walked in with several forms and smiled at Liang Jingchuan. “I’ll calculate the quote. Please wait a moment.”
Liang Jingchuan nodded.
Lan Yan cleared the table and fell silent.
Sister Rong finished the quote form quickly and handed it to Liang Jingchuan. Before she could explain each item, he had already looked to the last line. “Sign here?”
“Yes.” Who did not like a straightforward client? Sister Rong beamed. “If you have any requirements for the restoration, you can discuss them with Lan Yan. Before formal restoration begins, we’ll issue a restoration plan. During the process, you can add requirements anytime. You can add my WeChat.”
Liang Jingchuan took the pen, signed briskly, scanned the QR code Sister Rong offered, and asked, “Should I communicate through you, or directly with Lan Yan?”
Sister Rong grew even more convinced these two were exes. They were “acquaintances,” yet he had not added her WeChat and now asked this? She wondered if Young Master Chen knew his girlfriend’s ex had shown up at the door.
Sister Rong smiled. “You can go through me or directly to Lan Yan. For restoration details, it’s more efficient to go straight to her. I’ll set up a group chat later.”
Liang Jingchuan nodded. “Thanks.”
“Then, Mr. Liang, please come to the front desk with me to pay the deposit.”
The two left the pre-processing room.
Only simple physical cleaning could be done here; all subsequent steps required the upstairs Mounting Room. Lan Yan rolled up the painting core, snapped a photo of the remaining frame on the table, sent it to the group chat, and notified someone to clean up.
As she walked out, at the front desk, Liang Jingchuan was signing the receipt from the POS machine.
Lan Yan stopped. “I’ll take the painting to the Mounting Room for registration. We’ll notify you when we start work.”
Liang Jingchuan turned at the sound and nodded. “Thanks for the trouble.”
…So polite it hardly sounded like words from Liang Jingchuan’s mouth.
/
After completing full-color processing on this repair item at hand, Lan Yan began the mounting work.
By the time the client approved it, ten days had passed.
The two silk paintings Chu Lansun brought back were assigned to Lan Yan and Xue Mengqiu.
Lan Yan had little experience with silk paintings, and these were like scraps—impossible to finish in under two months.
Liang Jingchuan’s calligraphy piece was not difficult, so Lan Yan planned to finish his first before tackling the tough one.
After issuing the restoration plan in the group chat and getting Liang Jingchuan’s confirmation, Lan Yan prepared to start.
She arrived early at Mend Orchid Studio, and the Mounting Room was empty.
Lan Yan habitually arrived ahead of time to prepare unhurriedly without disturbance.
She wiped down the mounting table and retrieved the calligraphy piece from storage.
The ink had slight fading; before washing, it needed alum glue for color fixing.
There was alum glue Zhou Wenshu had mixed the day before in the fridge. Lan Yan took some, put it in a small dish, and let it warm to room temperature.
At that moment, her phone on the nearby stool vibrated.
Lan Yan picked it up. It was a message from Liang Jingchuan.
Not in the group—sent directly to her.
【ljc: Started work yet?】
【blueblue: Mm.】
【ljc: Does your Mounting Room allow visits?】
【ljc: Not to supervise. This piece is important to me. I want to witness the restoration process.】
If it were anyone else, Lan Yan could brush it off, but Liang Jingchuan had specifically asked that day if Chen Boyu came often.
【blueblue: Let me know before coming. Need visitor registration.】
【ljc: Okay.】
Liang Jingchuan did not come.
Day one: color fixing, mold removal, washing, and backing paper removal.
Day two: dyeing paper, patching holes.
Up to day four.
Near noon, everyone preserved their work and went downstairs to eat one after another.
There were many small restaurants nearby, or they could order delivery, but delivery had to be eaten in the first-floor lounge—no food or drinks allowed in the second-floor Mounting Room.
Lan Yan’s usual lunch companions were Zhou Wenshu and Xue Mengqiu.
The three went out together, ate, and returned to the building. At the front desk, Xiao Yue waved. “Senior Sister Lan Yan, come here a sec.”
Zhou Wenshu and Xue Mengqiu headed upstairs first.
Lan Yan went to the front desk and asked Xiao Yue what was up.
Xiao Yue: “Someone sent you a box of pastries. I put it in the lounge for you.”
Lan Yan: “Chen Boyu?”
“Not at all. It’s a client of yours.”
“Which client?”
Xiao Yue grinned and said, “The handsomest one.”
“…” Lan Yan glanced at the time on her phone. “When did he come?”
“Just now.”
“Did he go to the Mounting Room to visit?”
Xiao Yue shook her head. “No. He gave me the things and left, telling me to hand them to you personally. They seem to be ice-skin pastries. Eat them soon, or they’ll melt. You can share any leftovers with your colleagues.”
Lan Yan stood silently for a moment before heading to the break room.
A long table stood in the break room for everyone to eat at.
Lan Yan walked over. A small, exquisite gift box sat on it. She opened the lid, and beneath the oil paper lay a small card with four handwritten words: Best wishes for autumn.
No signature, but she recognized the handwriting. Physics exam papers spread across the dining table, signed gas maintenance slips, Post-it notes stuck to the fridge when he avoided face-to-face talks but needed to convey his parents’ will…
All that handwriting.
When dealing with Liang Jingchuan, Lan Yan usually chose to vent on him rather than torment herself.
She pulled out her phone and opened WeChat.
【blueblue: Just say it straight. Do you want to borrow money?】
【blueblue: Helping a friend sell insurance? Pulling bank deposits?】
【blueblue: Recruiting pyramid scheme downlines?】
Several seconds passed before a reply came.
【ljc: ……】
【ljc: My mom told me to bring it to you.】