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墨書 Inktalez
Jiang Ping picked up the vinegar bottle from the tray and poured a generous amount over the wound on Zhao Feng's hand. The once neat cut was now corroded and jagged, and the blood had stopped flowing. Zhao Feng's expression gradually returned to normal as he pointed at the medicine bottle and said, "This is what everyone commonly refers to as Sodium Hydroxide, scientifically known as Sodium Hydroxide. The chemical burns it causes can make you feel the deepest physical pain. I want to thank you all; under your attention, I have experienced an extreme form of self-harm!"
It was unclear who started it, but applause erupted from the audience. I felt an inexplicable emotion wash over me and couldn't help but join in the clapping. Zhao Feng waved his hand and said, "Please hold your applause for now. You are merely appreciating my courage without resonating with me artistically. You only know that I have just endured immense pain, but you cannot grasp the pleasure I experienced during this process. This is the topic I want to discuss with you today: humanity's obsession with harm."
It was evident that many in the audience were becoming increasingly interested in Zhao Feng's speech, but I found it hard to accept such a topic. Noticing that time was getting late, I decided to quietly stand up and leave.
My seat was not far from the back door, so hardly anyone noticed my early departure. However, this action did not escape the eyes of Zhao Feng and his wife on stage. Jiang Ping stepped down from the podium and followed me out.
I paused outside the door and awkwardly greeted her, "Hello, Teacher Jiang!" Jiang Ping was taken aback for a moment before recognizing me, smiling as she said, "I didn't expect to see you here. Where's he?"
"He's at home working on his graduation project," I lied slightly. "I was actually going to buy groceries when I found out Teacher Zhao was speaking, so I thought I'd stop by for a bit. Well, time is a bit tight; I can't stay until the end... Teacher Zhao's talk is quite fascinating..."
"Haha, you probably don't like it much, do you?" Jiang Ping said straightforwardly. "That's fine; we were prepared for this. This form of art isn't something everyone can accept. I came out with you to ask about your true feelings."
I hesitated and stammered, "Well... I'm not an artist; I don't really understand this stuff. Plus, I'm a bit squeamish; I can't stand blood..."
Jiang Ping smiled understandingly. "Alright then, I won't press you on it. How's everything at home? Do you need any help?"
"Everything's good, thank you." Suddenly, something stirred in my heart, and I asked, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course! Go ahead."
I hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to bring up this topic. Ultimately, I steeled myself and asked, "Do you and Teacher Zhao always lock the child alone in the house when you go out?"
Jiang Ping raised an eyebrow, looking quite surprised. "What? Have you seen our child?"
I nodded and said, "I saw him yesterday on the balcony, through the window... Such a small child, all alone at home. It’s quite pitiful."
Jiang Ping sighed softly, a complex expression flashing across his face. It reminded me of my mother’s gaze in the dark—equally helpless, sorrowful, and loving.
"I'm sorry... Maybe I shouldn't have asked," I said cautiously.
"It's alright; you don't need to feel guilty," Jiang Ping replied with a friendly smile. "Actually, there's nothing to hide. It's just that it can't be explained in a few words. How about this? One day when you have time, come over to my place. I'll introduce you to my daughter; I'm sure you'll like her."
At this point, I certainly wouldn't be foolish enough to press further. I quickly found an excuse to leave the conference room. On the way home, I couldn't help but regret my impulsiveness, but thankfully, Jiang Ping didn’t seem to hold it against me.
After buying groceries and returning home, Gao Jun was still sound asleep. I cooked dinner and prepared a few of my signature dishes before going into the bedroom to wake him up. As soon as Gao Jun entered the living room, he exaggeratedly exclaimed, "It smells so good!" However, during dinner, he turned into a silent figure, offering no comments on the meal I had carefully prepared.
Finally unable to hold back, I said in a huff, "If you don't like it, you don't have to force yourself to eat!"
"It’s delicious!" Gao Jun was taken aback by my outburst but quickly understood why I was upset. "I was just lost in thought."
"What were you thinking about?" I asked irritably.
"Still about what I was thinking last night. For the first time, I don’t know how to grasp this feeling." He held his bowl thoughtfully and suddenly said seriously, "Do you believe that this time I will really create a great work of art?"
Seeing his infatuated expression made me both amused and exasperated. It reminded me of Zhao Feng's "demonstration" from the morning—artists really do have that kind of obsession!
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