Read Chapter 22: — YONGHE'S GALLERY

Wu Siqin eventually returned to Sichuan to manage another gallery for Yonghe's family.

Mufeng pretended relief.

"So my rival has withdrawn."

"Siqin does not withdraw," Yonghe said. "He relocates."

"Then my campaign continues."

Qinghe Gallery now displayed several of Mufeng's paintings.

One afternoon he asked, "Has anyone tried to buy them?"

"One person."

"Good."

"He asked for a discount."

"Then absolutely not."

Yonghe's eyes curved with amusement. "I refused. The best respect you can show a living artist is to pay the price you agreed his work deserves."

"A sound principle."

"It applies only to Li Mufeng."

He put an arm around her.

"Then I support discriminatory pricing."

Their relationship had become less dramatic after the forgery case and therefore more intimate. They argued about framing, food, money, his tendency to disappear into painting, her tendency to conceal problems until they became dangerous.

Mufeng discovered that romance was not the moonlit bridge where he had first imagined kissing her.

It was also carrying boxes during an exhibition installation at midnight.

It was telling her when he was afraid.

It was learning that she preferred spicy hotpot to elegant banquets and that she became silent, not loud, when genuinely angry.

It was allowing another person to see him without performance.

One spring night they stood by the Zhihe Canal.

"Do you still think I'm a mysterious woman?" Yonghe asked.

"Terribly mysterious. Yesterday you ate the last dumpling and denied it."

"There were witnesses."

"Corrupt witnesses."

She leaned against him.

The water moved beneath the bridge, carrying reflections apart and bringing them together again.

"I used to think love should feel like fate," Mufeng said.

"And now?"

"Now I think fate is lazy. People do the work."

Yonghe looked at him.

"That almost sounded mature."

"Don't tell anyone."