◎“I’m not anyone special to you.”◎
This trip would last at least three months, so Lan Yan went home once and said goodbye to Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia.
She deliberately avoided mealtimes and arrived home after nine in the evening, so she could finish talking and leave right away.
Lan Junwen naturally had many concerns: Was it hot over there? Could she come back midway? Could she finish before the New Year and so on.
Lan Yan answered them one by one.
“Is someone going with you?” Lan Junwen asked. He knew she had studied for both undergrad and grad school out of town, so her ability to take care of herself was no longer a worry, but he couldn’t help feeling anxious. He also feared showing too much concern might make her uncomfortable.
“One colleague is going with me.”
Originally, it was Xue Mengqiu, but Zhou Wenshu had volunteered, saying Senior Sister Xue would be gone too long and it might affect her relationship with her husband, while he was a single guy with no ties; besides, in a foreign country, having a strong, able-bodied male compatriot around was always useful, whether as manual labor or a bodyguard.
Master thought it made sense and reassigned Zhou Wenshu instead.
“Oh… that’s good then. How will you stay over there?”
“They’ll arrange food and lodging for us.”
Liang Xiaoxia smiled from the side. “Yanyan, if you need anything over there, just say the word. Don’t tough it out alone. It’s not far anyway—a few hours and you’re there.”
Lan Yan smiled and said, “Okay.”
Lan Junwen wanted to keep her for a late-night snack, but she politely declined, saying she needed to go back and pack.
Lan Junwen walked her to the door. “Will you be back for Christmas, Yanyan? Call Chen Boyu then and come home for dinner…”
“I’ve already broken up with Chen Boyu.”
Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia, who followed behind him, both froze for a moment.
Liang Xiaoxia hurriedly asked, “What happened, Yanyan? Did he do something to wrong you?”
“No… it was an amicable breakup.”
“Okay…” Liang Xiaoxia and Lan Junwen exchanged a glance and didn’t press further. “Then I hope you have a good time over there, Yanyan.”
Lan Yan had finished the full-color silk mounting with joining strokes. She handed off the mounting work to a colleague and set off for Penang, Malaysia, with Zhou Wenshu.
Malaysia’s Chinese population was concentrated mainly in Ipoh, Penang, Kuala Lumpur, Johor, and Selangor.
Artifact restoration was highly specialized—epigraphy and stone, ceramics, paintings and calligraphy, textiles, murals, ancient books, woodwork, clocks… Different fields were worlds apart. Chinese painting and calligraphy restoration was a completely different domain from Western oil painting restoration.
The skill Lan Yan had learned could find work in Japan, Korea, and parts of Southeast Asia’s broader Sinosphere.
The studio often sent staff out for restoration jobs, and overseas assignments weren’t new—Xue Mengqiu had spent half a year in Japan before.
As soon as they landed at the airport, museum staff came to pick them up in a car.
As the car left the airport, the view grew more expansive. Penang Island was surrounded by sea on all sides, and George Town sat at its northeast corner.
Unlike South City’s blue skies always tinged with gray, the blue here was infinitely clear and vast.
Lan Yan cracked open the rear car window a bit, letting the humid, hot sea breeze brush her cheeks.
The staff member who came to pick them up was originally from Fujian. His Mandarin was a bit labored, but along the way, he explained the work and lodging arrangements: Since the museum had no dedicated painting and calligraphy restoration department, their work would be done at a local Chinese painter’s studio, and food and lodging would be provided by the overseas Chinese businessman.
On the first day, the businessman would host a welcome banquet, and in the afternoon, he’d take them to the painter’s studio to get familiar with the environment.
The businessman was surnamed Yu and now lived long-term in Hong Kong. The one receiving them was his eldest son, Yu Wancheng, thirty-five or thirty-six, refined and modest.
After the meal, Yu Wancheng personally took them to the Chinese painter’s studio.
It wasn’t far from the Yu family residence—about seven hundred meters on foot, a three-story white Western-style house surrounded by tall trees.
Zhou Wenshu leaned in and whispered, “It’s pretty similar to Mend Orchid Studio.”
Lan Yan nodded in deep agreement.
A plaque above the villa’s door bore the characters for “One Corner.” Yu Wancheng said they generally called the place One Corner Pavilion.
Besides the painter’s studio, One Corner Pavilion had a small mounting room with just one mounting table and incomplete tools.
Lan Yan and the others had communicated ahead and known about this, so they brought their own set of handy tools.
Yu Wancheng told them to let him know any needs—they could count on full support from him, the studio owner, and the museum.
The next day, they adjusted once more, and Lan Yan and Zhou Wenshu’s work officially began.
It was already mid-November.
Friends back north were posting first-snow photos in their Moments feeds, but here it was still humid and hot under blazing sun.
Among the works Yu Wancheng was donating to the Overseas Chinese Museum, the most valuable was a painting by Lingnan painter Ju Lian titled Elegance in the Ouxianguan Pavilion.
This painting had originally been in the collection of a Wu family herbal medicine merchant in Gaozhou Prefecture, western Guangdong. Later, amid turbulent times, the Wu family ventured south to Nanyang. To forge ties with the Huang family, they offered a batch of antiques and rarities. After several more transfers, it ended up in the Yu family.
Ju Lian’s Rich and Noble Eternal Spring had fetched 7 million RMB at auction in 2017. This Elegance in the Ouxianguan Pavilion was an early work showcasing his innovative “powder collision” and “water collision” techniques—a true masterpiece, conservatively worth over a million on the market.
For such a piece, Lan Yan naturally proceeded with utmost caution.
Painted in the Guangxu era, the best patching material was paper from the same period.
One Corner Pavilion’s stored paper didn’t match, so Yu Wancheng heard there was a mounting shop in Penang with old paper stock. That afternoon, Zhou Wenshu went to check out the materials.
The previous painting by Su Liupeng had been restored and just needed final mounting.
The mounted piece came down from the wall for waxing and polishing.
Lan Yan stood at the mounting table, razor in hand, meticulously removing impurities and sand grains from the backing paper.
Penang’s humid, high temperatures weren’t ideal for painting restoration, so the mounting room needed constant air conditioning and dehumidifiers.
After long hours, her neck, shoulders, and back all ached—no exceptions—and the AC only made it worse.
Once this step was done, Lan Yan stood up, rolled her shoulders and neck, then continued with the waxing.
Zhou Wenshu had borrowed a Bluetooth speaker from Yu Wancheng and set it in the corner of the mounting room for music while working.
Connected to Lan Yan’s phone, it played upbeat light music, now reaching Joe Hisaishi’s “Always With Me.”
Lan Yan hummed along now and then.
Footsteps sounded at the door.
Without looking up, Lan Yan said, “Got it matched, Wenshu?”
No one replied.
Lan Yan glanced up and froze.
A person-high areca palm pot plant sat at the table’s corner, half-obscuring the peacock-green wooden door.
The man stood in the doorway, dressed in white shirt and black pants, aloof and cold as fresh snow on the eaves.
He said nothing, just watched her.
The air seemed to cool suddenly.
Lan Yan pressed her lips together, unable to withstand his faintly cold gaze, and looked away.
The next moment, Liang Jingchuan stepped in over the checkered floor tiles and asked out of nowhere, “Want to hear a joke?”
Lan Yan set down the polishing stone and stayed silent.
Liang Jingchuan approached step by step, unhurried. “I brought some pastries to Mend Orchid Studio to visit. Front desk said you went abroad a week ago. Asked Uncle and Mom—they both knew. I’m the last to know in the whole world.”
He had reached the opposite side of the mounting table.
Lan Yan kept her eyes fixed on the piece on the table, never looking up. She knew full well he was staring at her.
“…So you’ve come to demand an explanation from me?”
Liang Jingchuan let out a soft scoff, self-mocking. “Do you owe me an explanation? I’m not anyone special to you.”
“…I didn’t mean to hide from you on purpose. It just felt like a bit of a burden at the time.”
“Burden.” Liang Jingchuan repeated the word, his tone flat, no extra emotion.
Quick footsteps came from outside, along with a puzzled, “Huh, whose suitcase?”
Zhou Wenshu reached the door, peered inside, and halted.
He looked at Liang Jingchuan, then at Lan Yan. The indescribable low pressure made him speak cautiously. “Senior Sister, this is…”
“…My brother.”
Zhou Wenshu drew out an “Ohhh,” walked in, and extended a hand to Liang Jingchuan. “Hi, hi, I’m Senior Sister Lan Yan’s colleague, Zhou Wenshu.”
Lan Yan hadn’t mentioned much about her family, but after working together long enough, colleagues picked up some details. Zhou Wenshu had heard early on about her reconstituted family and stepbrother, but never met him.
Liang Jingchuan reluctantly shook his hand.
“Visiting family?” Zhou Wenshu flashed an extremely friendly smile.
“Mm.”
“Just arrived? Where are you staying?”
Liang Jingchuan glanced down at him, sizing up Zhou Wenshu.
Unclear how much younger he was than Lan Yan, but he looked young, like a fresh grad—neat appearance and dress.
Hard to say if he was her type.
Over a month, she had been coming and going with this guy.
“Nearby hotel,” Liang Jingchuan said flatly.
Zhou Wenshu was extra enthusiastic. “Why not drop your luggage first? My treat for dinner. There’s great Nyonya cuisine nearby.”
“You’re treating me?” Liang Jingchuan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Since you’re Yanyan’s colleague, it’s on me.” Liang Jingchuan wore a half-smile.
Lan Yan watched them coldly.
Dinner? Might as well eat arsenic. One after another, annoying as hell.
Zhou Wenshu couldn’t fathom this sudden hostility and felt a bit baffled.
Liang Jingchuan said no more, went to the door, pulled in his suitcase, and remarked flatly, “Before leaving, I stopped by Mend Orchid Studio. Asked Elder Chu if there was anything to bring over. He said you might be short on patching materials for the restoration.”
Lan Yan immediately asked, “Did you bring them?”
“Mm.”
“Let me see.”
He laid the suitcase flat and opened it, taking out a long wooden box.
Lan Yan circled around the mounting table to the suitcase side and crouched down, eyeing the box in his hand eagerly.
“Now you give me a smile?” Liang Jingchuan asked lowly, his tone teasingly amused.
“…You’re the one who didn’t give me a good face first.”
“And your demands are still pretty high.”
He handed over the box. Lan Yan took it, stood quickly, and placed it on the table to open.
What Chu Lansun had Liang Jingchuan bring were mostly corner scraps cut from period ancient paintings—rare stuff, one inch of paper worth one inch of gold.
There was a good amount. Lan Yan wanted to start matching right away, but after all, the guy who’d come all this way with the materials deserved some hospitality.
“Go drop your luggage,” Lan Yan said to Liang Jingchuan. “My treat.”
“Can’t find the way.” He looked at her. “Take me to the hotel.”
“…Then how’d you find this place?”
“Grab.”
“Then just Grab another…”
“Phone’s dead.”
“…”
Lan Yan locked the box in the cabinet and said to Zhou Wenshu, “Wenshu, at five, go ahead and reserve a table. I’ll drop him at the hotel and meet you.”
Zhou Wenshu said, “Sure,” his gaze following them, still sizing up the pair.
As soon as they stepped out of One Corner Pavilion, waves of heat assaulted them.
Lan Yan’s thin jacket had been an indoor AC layer; outside, it became sun protection.
She pulled on a sun hat and asked Liang Jingchuan, “Which hotel?”
“Eastern House.”
“…Staying cheap would shorten your lifespan or something?”
“It’s the closest to you.”
Lan Yan shut her mouth immediately.
Eight hundred meters—ten minutes on foot, same direction as Yu Wancheng’s residence. Lan Yan walked this road often; no need for navigation.
Soon, the white hotel from the British colonial era came into view.
At the entrance, the doorman opened the door.
Lan Yan found a sofa in the lobby to sit and wait while Liang Jingchuan checked in.
Moments later, he wheeled his suitcase over. “I’m going up for a shower and to charge.”
“I’ll wait here…”
“I booked the Somerset Maugham room.”
Lan Yan looked at him. He looked back at her, standing leisurely, as if certain she couldn’t resist.
Ten seconds later, Lan Yan stood up.