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墨書 Inktalez
Raindrops trickled down the giant poster of the "Streetlight" art exhibition, blurring Old Zhou's painting, "Beggar's Piano Dream," into indistinct patches of color. Lin Xiaofan stood under the eaves of the gallery, gazing at the bustling crowd inside the glass windows—entrepreneurs in suits, reporters with cameras, and a few ragged homeless individuals, all crammed into this space of less than two hundred square meters, pointing and discussing the artworks on the walls.
"Mr. Lin!" A Long excitedly emerged from the crowd, paint smudged on his nose. "We sold three more pieces! That big boss said he wants to hang 'Mother and Son Scavengers' in his company lobby!"
Lin Xiaofan nodded but his gaze fell on Old Zhou in the corner. The old man was unusually dressed in a dark blue suit today, his empty pant legs pressed neatly, surrounded by a group of reporters interviewing him. Under the flashing lights, the knuckles gripping the wheelchair's armrest turned pale.
"Teacher Zhou isn't used to this kind of attention." A Long followed his gaze. "The Zhao Foundation once said they wanted to support him, but then..."
"Zhao Foundation?" Lin Xiaofan turned alertly. "When did that happen?"
A Long scratched his head. "About seven or eight years ago? Back then, I had just started learning to paint from Teacher Zhou. A big boss with the surname Zhao bought several of his paintings and even invited him to some charity gala." He lowered his voice. "But the next day, Teacher Zhou returned all the money and took back his paintings, which made him very ill with anger."
Just then, Lin Xiaofan's phone vibrated in his pocket. He walked to the corner to check it; a System Notification flashed before his eyes:
【Project Completion: 98%】
【Cashback Multiplier Exceeded 300%】
【Special Reward: Kindness Value +20】
【Note: Dignity is Priceless】
Suddenly, applause erupted from inside the glass window. Lin Xiaofan looked up to see Old Zhou being wheeled to the center of the exhibition hall, with "Beggar's Piano Dream" marked with a red tag reading "Sold for 100,000." The buyer was an elderly lady with silver hair, holding Old Zhou's hand and saying something to him. The tension in the old man's shoulders gradually eased as a genuine smile appeared on his face.
"Mr. Lin!” a female reporter suddenly blocked his path. “As the curator, why did you choose to focus on this overlooked group of street homeless?"
The camera lens pointed at Lin Xiaofan like a gun. He opened his mouth, but the prepared public relations speech got stuck in his throat. Through the reporter's shoulder, he saw the old man in the painting—ragged yet upright—and recalled the warmth of that bowl of porridge under the overpass.
"Because..." His voice was hoarse. "Everyone deserves to be seen."
The reporter seemed disappointed by this bland answer and shifted to a more sensational topic: "I heard your father was also a miner? Does that relate to your support for Teacher Zhou?"
Lin Xiaofan’s blood ran cold instantly. He had never mentioned his father's profession publicly, let alone its connection to Old Zhou.
"Who told you that?" He grabbed the reporter's wrist.
"It hurts..." The female reporter struggled back, nearly dropping her camera.
"Sorry." Lin Xiaofan released her hand. "My father's situation has nothing to do with this exhibition."
He hurried toward the restroom; even cold water splashing on his face couldn't suppress the throbbing in his temples. His father and mining accidents, Old Zhou and Zhao Tianming, along with that mysterious "system"... these fragments were like color patches on Old Zhou's painting—clearly visible yet impossible to piece together into a complete picture.
"Do you need something to sober up?"
The reflection of Su Yuqing appeared in the mirror. She wore light makeup today; her black dress accentuated her fair complexion as she held two glasses of champagne.
"I didn't drink any alcohol." Lin Xiaofan took the cup and downed it in one go.
Su Yuqing raised an eyebrow. "The celebration banquet is about to start; the main character can't be absent."
The banquet was held in a small restaurant next to the gallery. When Lin Xiaofan pushed Old Zhou into the room, everyone stood up and applauded. All of Old Zhou's works had sold out, raising a total of 870,000 in funds, far exceeding expectations. Even more surprisingly, three media outlets promised to provide free coverage for the "Street Artist Training Program."
"This toast is for Teacher Zhou!" A Long, slightly tipsy, raised his glass. "Without you, I would still be out on the streets causing trouble!"
Laughter erupted among the crowd, and Old Zhou's eyes turned slightly red. He raised his teacup. "To everyone who has given dignity to 'Garbage Man.'"
As the drinks flowed, Lin Xiaofan unknowingly drank too much. The alcohol blurred his boundaries as he draped an arm around Old Zhou's shoulder and rambled on, "Teacher Zhou, do you know? If it weren't for the system forcing me... hic... I wouldn't even..."
"The system?" Su Yuqing interjected sharply. "What system?"
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