I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Zuo Lan heard the visitor’s introduction, her heart sank for a moment, followed immediately by a furrowed brow.

Two weeks ago? Wasn’t the painting she had sold two weeks ago the work of that brat, Zuo Yin?

At the thought of this, Zuo Lan pulled open the door with an ill-tempered jerk and lit a cigarette for herself.

“I don’t have anything good here—”

Just as she was about to spit out even more unfriendly words, the filth got stuck in her throat, unable to be uttered.

The thick white smoke drifted hazily in front of Shen Qingzi, who stood before Zuo Lan with a warm and gentle gaze.

Her long hair fell smoothly over her shoulders. The satin fabric of her clothes reflected the soft, melting light, outlining her exceptionally elegant figure.

When such a celestial beauty appears before you, no one could bring themselves to utter a single curse.

“Hello, may I take a look at your studio?” Shen Qingzi asked with a smile, not at all startled by the roar Zuo Lan had let out when opening the door.

“It’s a bit messy, don’t mind it,” Zuo Lan nodded hurriedly, stepping aside to let Shen Qingzi in. Her deferential attitude made her look like a completely different person from moments ago.

Zuo Lan had, after all, spent time around aristocratic families; she could tell that Shen Qingzi’s outfit was worth a fortune and knew she must be a wealthy lady. If she took a fancy to the paintings in the studio, it might mean another huge windfall.

Shen Qingzi nodded slightly and, guided by Zuo Lan, began to tour the dim, old house.

The house was quite aged and retained an old-fashioned layout. To the left of the entrance was a wooden staircase; the red paint was peeling, revealing the greyish wood underneath that had been scarred by time. The narrow hallway was cramped, and in several places where sunlight could not reach, dark, wild moss had grown, looking unkempt and soot-black.

Passing through the hallway, they arrived at the living room, which served as a combined space for painting, selling, hosting guests, and dining. The faint scent of oil paints immediately hit her. The ventilation was poor; even with the windows open, the cheap, pungent smell lingered around Shen Qingzi, impossible to escape.

Shen Qingzi could never have imagined that the author of that painting had created such a magnificent work in such a wretched environment.

Perhaps it was only in this dark, oppressive atmosphere that one could truly experience the same lonely struggle depicted in the painting’s world.

“What kind of painting are you looking for this time? I have many styles here; please feel free to choose,” Zuo Lan pointed to the living room, where various oil paintings were arranged haphazardly, and recommended them eagerly.

Shen Qingzi nodded politely, but after a single glance, she stopped looking. Zuo Lan’s paintings were refined enough, but they were merely second-rate, nowhere near the level of the one she had at home.

Shen Qingzi stepped over a beer bottle lying on the floor, stood beside Zuo Lan, and asked, “Are there any more paintings similar to that one?”

There was no reason to turn away a customer when business came knocking, especially since there were still a few paintings left in Zuo Yin’s studio upstairs.

Just as Zuo Lan was about to speak, blinded by the lure of money, a rare moment of reason forced her to bite her tongue.

Selling that brat’s painting last time was truly unintentional, and she had an excuse for it.

If she sold the paintings from upstairs again, Zuo Yin would definitely have a massive showdown with her upon returning.

Zuo Lan, do you still want your daughter to come home?

At this thought, a flicker of helplessness passed through Zuo Lan’s eyes.

She flicked the ash from her cigarette and pointed randomly at a painting she had set on an easel, attempting to deceive her. “That’s the one. I haven’t finished it yet.”

Shen Qingzi had already noticed the crooked painting Zuo Lan was pointing to—it was just another piece with a hollow shell and no soul, its technique even a clumsy attempt to mimic the style of the painting she owned.

Shen Qingzi turned her head to look coldly at Zuo Lan, who was half a head shorter than her. Zuo Lan suddenly felt a tightness in her chest, and her throat moved with a dry swallow.

She had been seen through.

Zuo Lan realized that this woman carrying a limited-edition lambskin bag was not someone to be trifled with, so she had to tell the truth. “There are no more. Just that one I sold.”

Shen Qingzi frowned slightly, her voice tinged with worry. “Has she stopped painting?”

“No,” Zuo Lan shook her head, casually hitching up the strap of her camisole that was about to slide off her shoulder. “She doesn’t sell her paintings. Miss, don’t waste your energy.”

“She doesn’t sell?” Shen Qingzi was even more confused.

Standing amidst this wall of “monsters and demons,” her initial heart full of anticipation turned into disappointment.

If she didn’t sell them, why did that one painting end up in her hands?

Zuo Lan gave a grunt of affirmation and leaned against the yellowed white pillar beside her.

She took a drag of her cigarette and slowly exhaled white smoke rings from her bloodless lips, blurring her vision. A few stray strands of long hair fell across her face, adding a touch of a mother’s weary helplessness to her decadent appearance.

Following Zuo Lan’s gaze, Shen Qingzi saw a pair of cracked ceramic dolls sitting under the silent sunset framed by the window.

“Forgive my intrusion, but what is her relationship to you…”

More questions arose in Shen Qingzi’s heart, and she wanted to ask more about the owner of the painting, but she was rudely interrupted by Zuo Lan. “Miss, this is a studio, a place for selling art. If you’re looking for someone, you should go to the police station; they’re much more professional than I am.”

Shen Qingzi was rarely rebuffed like this. Her lips parted as if to speak, but after a few hesitations, they finally pressed into a thin line.

Even if the author of the painting and this woman were indeed mother and daughter as she suspected, their relationship clearly wasn’t good.

It would be difficult to learn anything from her.

Shen Qingzi thought for a moment, pointed randomly at a painting in the pile, and turned back to Zuo Lan. “I’ll buy one of your paintings if you answer one question for me. You won’t lose out, right?”

Since a direct approach wouldn’t yield answers, she would take a detour.

Zuo Lan let out a “ha” of laughter, her thin body shaking with the movement.

She looked Shen Qingzi in the eye and asked back, “Miss, are you really that interested in that girl?”

“This is a very fair deal,” Shen Qingzi simply replied.

Hearing such business-like words come from Shen Qingzi’s mouth felt incredibly out of place.

She thought that if it weren’t for finding the author of that painting, she might never have said such a thing in her life.

Seeing that Shen Qingzi was serious and looked like a lady from a prominent family who wouldn’t harm Zuo Yin, Zuo Lan decided not to turn down the money. She nodded. “Fine. Just one question, no more.”

“I want to know how I can find the author of that painting,” Shen Qingzi chose the most practical question. As she spoke, she scanned the price tag on the painting and transferred the money to Zuo Lan.

The sound of coins dropping into a pocket chimed from the coffee table piled with trash and food containers. Having received the payment, Zuo Lan upheld her end of the bargain. “I haven’t seen her for half a month myself. She’s a student in the Oil Painting Department at the Academy of Fine Arts. If you’re determined, go look for her there; you might run into her.”

No name, no photo—Zuo Lan had given Shen Qingzi nothing but a very general description.

But for Shen Qingzi, this was enough.

With Shen Lai’s connections, it wouldn’t be hard to find a student in the Oil Painting Department at the Academy who lived in the old city district of S City.

Shen Qingzi nodded and said to Zuo Lan, “Alright, thank you. Please wrap the painting; someone will come to collect it tomorrow.”

“No trouble at all. I’ll give you a discount if you come back for more,” Zuo Lan said as she saw Shen Qingzi out.

“Alright,” Shen Qingzi smiled thinly.

There wouldn’t be a next time.

…

The sun had half-sunk behind the western mountains, using its remaining light to pave a golden path for Shen Qingzi’s departure. Stepping onto the dark green bricks, she carefully plotted how to ask Shen Lai for this favor.

Soft words would be necessary, and she might even have to gift him that precious celadon vase she had in her collection.

“Zuo Lan, business has been good lately, eh!”

Suddenly, a man’s teasing voice came from behind Shen Qingzi, followed immediately by a woman’s voice that Shen Qingzi recognized all too well: “You pig, keep dreaming!”

Zuo Lan, Zuo Yin…

It couldn’t be such a coincidence.

Sitting in her car, Shen Qingzi watched Zuo Lan lean halfway out of the door in the rearview mirror. Her heart began to race for no apparent reason.

In autumn, the daylight grew shorter by the day, and darkness fell much faster than usual. Almost as soon as the sun hid behind the mountains, the sky turned completely black.

The bright yellow streetlights were already lit. The clean car window reflected Shen Qingzi’s delicate profile; she looked lost in thought. For some reason, that girl named Zuo Yin had been drifting in and out of her mind the whole way.

Actually, S City is so big, and there are many people named Zuo. I’ve known two or three myself; it doesn’t prove anything, Shen Qingzi told herself.

Yet, when she placed the painting from her mind alongside that lonely, defiant girl, the images fit together perfectly.

Shen Qingzi sighed softly, her tangled thoughts making her feel a bit restless.

She glanced at the navigation, flicked her turn signal, and pulled into a 24-hour convenience store at the second intersection.

She needed a cold drink to physically calm herself down.

“Welcome, meow~”

As she pushed open the door, a giant maneki-neko (lucky cat) at the entrance let out a cute, cartoonish welcome. Shen Qingzi’s mood brightened slightly, and she couldn’t help but steal another glance at the ceramic cat.

By this time, the office workers from the neighboring buildings had finished work, and the late-night snack crowd hadn’t arrived yet. The convenience store was quiet, with only a few staff members in green aprons doing inventory.

Shen Qingzi strolled leisurely through a row of shelves toward the refrigerated section at the back to find her usual yogurt. The busyness of the workers formed a sharp contrast to the silence.

“Sis, these few are about to expire.”

An exceptionally cool, clear voice came from the bento shelf in the next aisle. Shen Qingzi’s hand, reaching for the yogurt, froze.

Zuo Yin, wearing a convenience store work apron, was holding a bento box and looking at the store manager nearby.