After Getting Married to My Obsessive Older Sister - Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Tan Ze immediately became quiet, even controlling her breathing to be as light as possible, almost holding her breath. She stared coldly at Chu Yiqiao with her gray-blue eyes.

Chu Yiqiao was the worst fake sleeper Tan Ze had ever met.

It wasn’t that she lacked the skill, but that Chu Yiqiao’s sleeping face was too serene and happy.

Tan Ze had only ever seen a state like this on the face of a baby, as if she had no worries in her heart.

Any adult who had genuinely lived could not fake such a completely carefree expression, not even Chu Yiqiao herself.

Once a person is awake, they have worries. Tan Ze knew what Chu Yiqiao cared about: painting, her mother, her friends, and then her sister—now her wife.

Meanwhile, Chu Yiqiao’s eyelashes were still fluttering. Tan Ze reached out a hand and gently stroked Chu Yiqiao’s cheek. She was comforted in her dream and fell back into a deep sleep, still completely unaware of what Tan Ze did for her every night.

After applying the ointment, Tan Ze meticulously wiped her fingers with a wet wipe and continued to hold Chu Yiqiao as they slept.

From that night on, Tan Ze began applying the ointment to Chu Yiqiao’s arm every single night.

She had two opportunities to observe the healing of the scars.

First, in the morning when they woke up. Chu Yiqiao would be lazy and refuse to go for her morning jog. She would proactively wrap her arms around Tan Ze’s neck, clinging to her like a monkey doll. The words out of her mouth were always the same few phrases: “Sister, I’m still so sleepy,” “Sister, my legs are still a little sore,” “Sister, let’s start tomorrow, okay?”

Tan Ze never replied. She would just slightly turn her head and see everything clearly.

Second, during their nightly exercise. Chu Yiqiao was very clingy and moody. One moment she’d want her sister to go faster, the next she’d want her to slow down. She was a very difficult client. At this time, Tan Ze could justifiably handle her, holding Chu Yiqiao’s hands down and looking at her without inhibition.

Not to mention her inner arm, Chu Yiqiao wouldn’t say a thing even if Tan Ze looked at her entire body.

Four days passed in the blink of an eye. On May 6th, the first day after the May Day holiday, Chu Yiqiao completed the large-scale oil painting.

It was 3 PM, and the sun was scorching outside. The studio doors and windows were closed, and the air conditioner on the ceiling was blowing cold air. Chu Yiqiao stood on a small stool, her face serious, touching up a small section of gray-blue at the very top.

This studio was a space the school specially rented out to students. Besides Chu Yiqiao, there were two other senior students busy with their graduation projects.

Logically, to prevent poisoning from the oil paint, the room should be ventilated. The conditions were harsh in both winter and summer. However, Chu Yiqiao was lucky. Before she enrolled, the school had received a donation of a batch of high-end ventilation systems. Each large classroom was equipped with two. The ventilators were loud, but the oil painting students, usually high-strung and sensitive, rarely complained. They privately joked that this was the real meaning of technology. Chu Yiqiao heard that the school even included this in their recruitment brochure for the next batch of students.

Chu Yiqiao painted the last stroke, proudly jumping off the stool with a “thump.” The next second, her phone’s screen switched to a WeChat video call. After two rings, the small phone screen showed a spacious hallway. The view flipped, and Tan Ze looked slightly down at the camera. Her deeply contoured features were still striking from this unflattering angle.

Chu Yiqiao chuckled twice, deliberately moving the camera closer to herself. The person on the screen looked like a bobblehead. Tan Ze’s expression remained unchanged, and she took a screenshot.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wife, I finished my painting!”

When it was time to show the painting, Chu Yiqiao didn’t choose to move the camera. She held the phone and captured both herself and the painting.

She stood crookedly, holding her arm straight. The gray-blue lilies behind her were mostly obscured.

Tan Ze nodded: “It looks very good.”

“By the way, what do you want for dinner?”

The conversation quickly turned to mundane matters. Chu Yiqiao vaguely heard unfamiliar voices on Tan Ze’s end and suddenly realized Tan Ze was probably at work. She quickly ended the conversation.

At the end of the video chat, Chu Yiqiao held the phone up to herself and pouted in an exaggerated, childlike way.

“muah—”

Tan Ze looked at the little alien on the screen with a blank expression. She didn’t understand why Chu Yiqiao was looking at her with such an expectant gaze. Was she waiting for Tan Ze to do the same thing?

That was impossible.

“Goodbye. Zhao Jingxing will pick you up later.” Tan Ze hung up the phone.

“Ding,” Chu Yiqiao received a few WeChat messages.

Wife Wife: “(●3●)”

“Wife Wife recalled a message”

Wife Wife: “Message me when you arrive.”

÷: “Yes! ≡3≡”

There was still some time before Sister Jingxing arrived. Chu Yiqiao had completed the first draft of her portfolio during the May Day holiday. Tan Ze had helped her with the layout and refining. Last night, she had already sent the PDF to Kong Caiqing for her advice.

Then, she held her tablet and knocked on Kong Caiqing’s office door.

“Professor,” Chu Yiqiao said as she entered, finding a spot to sit down. “Are there any revisions? I’m a little worried that the works don’t have enough consistency.”

The so-called “consistency of works” referred to the coherence of an artist’s creative themes. Chu Yiqiao had always painted on a whim, with jumpy themes. Unlike mature artists who had a preferred subject, she had many series, mostly national impressions she had painted while traveling abroad with Tan Ze in recent years.

“It’s very good,” Kong Caiqing said, adjusting her glasses. “Consistency doesn’t have to be about the theme. Your use of color has been very strong since you started school, and that can also be a form of consistency. If you’re really worried about the themes being too messy, you can work on that direction in your senior year. There’s no rush now.”

Chu Yiqiao nodded, mentally taking note of the professor’s words.

“By the way, Yiqiao, I heard from your advisor that you want to submit to galleries, is that right?” Kong Caiqing suddenly brought up the topic. Generally, for an undergraduate student to be signed by a gallery within three years of graduation was considered an excellent achievement, but the person in front of her was in a special situation. She was talented, hardworking, and had family support. Her path would be a little easier than for someone with no background.

Chu Yiqiao: “Yes, I’m already looking.”

Her “looking” was genuinely just browsing online.

Si Yueshan had indeed sent her an Excel spreadsheet, filtering out suitable small and medium-sized galleries in Yanjing that could serve as a stepping stone for Chu Yiqiao. The message said, “Let me know if you like any.”

Chu Yiqiao had replied, “Okay, thanks, Sister Yueshan, I’ll look into it carefully,” but in reality, she had only scanned the document once and never looked at it again. She was an expert at faking it.

Kong Caiqing clearly misunderstood. Hearing Chu Yiqiao say this, she thought they had already reached the point where Tan Ze was taking her to the gallery owner’s home for dinner. The subsequent conversation completely skipped the small and medium-sized galleries, and she shared a lot of information about large galleries, intending it for Chu Yiqiao’s future use.

Chu Yiqiao nodded as she listened, taking notes on her phone’s memo app, jotting down the application process very clearly.

Kong Caiqing had a personal matter to attend to afterward. Chu Yiqiao thanked her and went back to the studio to pack her bag. She said goodbye to the seniors who were still working, slung her bag over her shoulder, opened her umbrella, and once again, plunged into the refreshing passenger seat of the car.

Zhao Jingxing watched as the redness on Chu Yiqiao’s face gradually returned to its usual state and commented: “It won’t cool down until Saturday. You have to take care of yourself during this time. Be careful of heatstroke.”

Chu Yiqiao had already started searching for the famous large galleries Kong Caiqing had mentioned, not paying much attention, and just nodding.

After the May Day holiday, a lot of work had piled up. Tan Ze returned to her familiar work intensity. The two of them had dinner in Tan Ze’s office as usual.

Chu Yiqiao ate absent-mindedly, taking a bite of food and then looking at her phone. She had been eating a small bowl of rice for nearly an hour. Tan Ze, with a cold expression, reached her chopsticks into Chu Yiqiao’s bowl, mercilessly took a large mouthful, and put it in her own mouth.

It was cold, as expected.

“Confiscated.”

Tan Ze easily took the phone from Chu Yiqiao’s hand. Without looking at it, she locked the screen.

Zhao Jingxing’s accidentally sent messages had a small impact on Tan Ze after all. She chose to ask Chu Yiqiao directly: “Chu Yiqiao, what were you looking at?”

Chu Yiqiao didn’t mind Tan Ze’s control over her life. In fact, she even enjoyed it a little, as if she was bungee jumping with a safety rope. She could indulge in the immediate dopamine rush from bad habits, and before things got serious, Tan Ze would force her to stop.

“I was looking at galleries,” Chu Yiqiao said, chewing on her chopsticks. She didn’t expect that after nearly an hour, there was still her favorite tomato brisket in the takeout box. “I don’t know which one to choose. It’s so hard to decide.”

Tan Ze reached out a finger and touched the container. It was still a little warm. She held back her controlling instincts and didn’t say anything. Her gaze shifted to Chu Yiqiao’s phone, which was face down on the table, carefully observing the similarities between the pink cartoon bunny on the phone case and the person in front of her.

Tan Ze: “Didn’t Si Yueshan give you a list?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” Chu Yiqiao answered vaguely, her mouth full of rice. “I’ve actually already decided on two, but I can’t make the final choice.”

“Is that so?” Tan Ze said: “Maybe you can share them with me. I can help you look.”

Chu Yiqiao, who always had trouble making decisions, immediately agreed. A matter that would have taken Chu Yiqiao three days to decide, Tan Ze would solve in a few seconds.

Even though over the years, the most frequent decisions Tan Ze had made were “Sister, what should we eat?” and “Sister, which outfit looks better on me today?”, Chu Yiqiao still considered Tan Ze to be incredibly amazing, like a superhero.

The superhero received a barrage of screenshots from Chu Yiqiao while in a meeting.

This kind of person is not suited for an office job, Tan Ze thought, looking at the screen full of screenshots in their chat. She judged venomously: She’d probably be crying in the bathroom during her probationary period.

The kind-hearted boss saved each image, created a new Excel document, organized the points of indecision Chu Yiqiao had sent, and began her horizontal analysis.

Tan Ze didn’t notice this detail at first, until she saw a gallery with a name entirely in English. She was surprised and searched for it on the official website, and was horrified to find that its headquarters were in Italy. A country that would take a 4-hour flight, even on a private jet.

What was Chu Yiqiao thinking? Was she planning to commute for 8 hours a day? A Tale of Two Cities?

Unfortunately, even the most efficient person gets distracted at work. During the subsequent process of consolidating information, Tan Ze put 99% of her energy into the gallery’s main active area. She couldn’t understand why Chu Yiqiao would exclude this crucial condition. Did she accidentally miss it?

At 7:30 PM, the meeting ended. The attendees gathered their materials and left the conference room one by one. Tan Ze remained seated, her expression cold as ice. Five minutes later, Chu Yiqiao bounced in, holding her tablet, with a lollipop she had gotten from Zhao Jingxing in her mouth.

“Sit down.” Tan Ze directly pulled the half-eaten lollipop out of Chu Yiqiao’s mouth, put it in her own, bit it into pieces, and quickly finished it.

“Sister, I have more…” Chu Yiqiao sat down and took out a new one from her pocket, offering it to Tan Ze.

Tan Ze sighed like a deflated balloon and took the lollipop.

“I’ve looked at everything you sent me,” Tan Ze said. She dimmed the lights in the conference room. In the few minutes she waited for Chu Yiqiao to arrive, she had already made a simple PowerPoint presentation and projected it onto the whiteboard. She stood next to it and announced with a blank expression: “I believe this one is the best.”

The gallery on the PPT was called “Congxing Art Space.” It wasn’t the biggest or most well-known, but it was known for signing young artists and was willing to invest and allocate resources.

In Tan Ze’s eyes, this was the most suitable stepping stone for Chu Yiqiao to sign with a big gallery in the future.

This wasn’t just because “Congxing” had a long history and had represented many well-known domestic artists. It was also because the gallery was located right next to the neighborhood they lived in. Under normal traffic conditions, it would only take a 5-minute drive to get there.

Tan Ze looked at Chu Yiqiao, who was sitting obediently at the long table. She considered a few seconds before choosing between “the family can give you the most help,” “the style matches yours,” and “I’ve already spoken with the gallery owner.” She chose: “If you submit to this one, your studio can be established in the adjacent district as well, and we can have lunch together in the future.”

Chu Yiqiao mumbled: “Mmm…”

In fact, Tan Ze said a lot more. Chu Yiqiao was surprised to discover that a person’s hearing could be affected by their vision. In any case, since her sister had dimmed the lights, she hadn’t been listening to her talk.

She was still looking at Tan Ze, of course. Tan Ze, under the pale light of the projector, was shrouded in a very high-tech, dark blue glow. Chu Yiqiao’s gaze traveled from Tan Ze’s waist and legs upwards, finally settling on her eyes, which were an even grayer shade of blue than in the daytime.

Chu Yiqiao’s thoughts slowed down. At this moment, she thought of many gray-blue things. Different objects rapidly switched in front of her eyes until, “bang!”

They stopped.

In front of her was Tan Ze’s suddenly enlarged face.

“Chu Yiqiao, are you listening?” Tan Ze frowned. For the first time, Chu Yiqiao felt that her sister might actually be angry.

A little fierce.

Very beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” Chu Yiqiao’s hands were itching. She quickly reached for her stylus, her thumb restlessly stroking the pen’s body. She found it hard to describe the immense emotion she felt right now. It was a fusion of creative and sexual desire.

“Sister, I think we can submit to all of them,” Chu Yiqiao heard herself say.

“Okay,” Tan Ze said, nodding in a mature and indifferent way, her tone flat: “As long as you’ve thought it through.”

She could do it, but what about Chu Yiqiao, who absolutely needed a hug to sleep? Tan Ze thought Chu Yiqiao might have been blinded by marketing sweet talk and hadn’t noticed this important issue of survival.

Tan Ze still had a nameless fire burning inside her. She considered that she had never truly argued with Chu Yiqiao.

In Chu Yiqiao’s mind, some of their disagreements might be considered arguments, but in Tan Ze’s eyes, they were just Chu Yiqiao’s one-sided willfulness and unreasonableness.

Just as Tan Ze was trying to vent her emotions, she heard Chu Yiqiao’s voice again, soft and gentle. The cool light on her face made her expression look strangely forlorn.

Chu Yiqiao: “They’re all good, actually. And it’s not like I’ll definitely get signed directly.”

Tan Ze’s mind instantly changed. She could believe that Chu Yiqiao shouldn’t go, but she couldn’t accept that Chu Yiqiao couldn’t get in.

“Don’t talk nonsense. You’ll get signed,” Tan Ze said, immediately turning the lights back on and looking at Chu Yiqiao’s delicate, seemingly carefree face: “Let’s go home now. We’ll end early today.”

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