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Chapter 82

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    The unfinished oil painting of a wealthy businessman was finally transferred to an art museum after several turmoils.

    The curator has recently changed his look and started to adopt a yuppie style. He wears a wig like a sweet potato skin and smokes a big cigar, like a suddenly rich Eskimo.

    Of course, he is used to pointing fingers in his own territory.

    "Hey, the procedure for subscribing this painting was so troublesome at first. I thought it was like a plot in a novel - at the estate auction, whoever subscribed for his late wife's oil painting, the wealthy businessman would transfer half of his property to that person." The curator shook his head.  He shook his head and said regretfully, "The result is that you painted it yourself and then spent money to buy it back, but you got nothing!"

    Wan Yun laughed: "How can there be so many legendary stories in the world."

    The curator curled his lips: "Why not? Just like you and Xiao Feng."

    I don¡¯t know what kind of deal the curator made with Feng Jian. Feng Jian recently agreed to be secretly photographed by the curator¡¯s magazine.

    ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? It¡¯s actually intentional, filming his daily life, trying to find hot spots and so on.  It's a pity that Feng Jian's life is so ordinary, even staring at the camera feels like he's about to get angry.

    The curator commented with the quality of a professional in the art world: "Alas, what should I do? I also want to stir up some news about him to help you divert the attention of public opinion - but why can't this person be fooled? That's it.  When he came to pick you up, his expression was more natural. The other photos, well, as soon as I looked at them, I was like, tut! tut! tut!"

    Wan Yun frowned and looked at him.

    During their previous encounter in the hospital, Feng Jian and the curator gradually became familiar with each other.

    After talking, they found that their personalities were quite compatible.  Sometimes Feng Jian went out for a late-night snack and asked the curator out alone.  The curator chirped, and Feng Jian was listening beside him.

    Wan Yun didn¡¯t know what two abnormal men could discuss with each other over junk food.

    The curator said smugly: "We're talking about interests, Xiao Yunyun. Look, the two most important men in your life have become good friends. Aren't you happy for us?"

    Wanyun ignored him.

    The curator came over again: "I said you two are weird. You have been married for so long. Why do you think that when I talk about Feng Jian to you, and when Feng Jian hears your name, his expression is the same! Feng Jian has always been concerned about your affairs.  He is so tight-lipped, I think he is probably a psychopath."

    Wan Yun finally glared at him.

    "Compared to you, Feng Jian's chance of becoming a pervert is much smaller."

    The curator laughed dryly: "I mean, you two are interested in each other, but you don't say anything. I can't understand you. By the way, that day, I clearly saw your photo in Feng Jian's wallet.  .¡±

    Wan Yun was stunned for a moment, but was not easily moved.

    ¡°Don¡¯t blame her for being a villain, that guy always uses two wallets.  And he dared to keep photos of strange women for several years just to remind himself to always hate the world.  Even if there were photos of her at this moment, who knows what weird explanation Feng Jian could give.

    The curator said doubtfully: "But not? In the wallet I looked at, he only kept a photo of you. No wonder you don't like him. This man is really old-fashioned." He said happily, "So I took my own photo  The photo was also put into his wallet."

    Wanyun is deeply worried about Feng Jian's ability to attract peach blossoms.

    She then began to pack away her painting supplies.

    The curator yawned boredly: "Are you going to Linlang Street again? I'd better send five students to follow you. Alas, you are a young lady, why do you always go to places like that?"

    Wan Yun shook his head and said, "Of course I have something to do."

    Linlang Street in the daytime, without the weird feeling in the night, still makes people feel uncomfortable.  There is still a faint smell of burning in the air, and the sewage caused by the rain a few days ago is still piled on the roadside, a dark puddle that seems to never evaporate.

    Wan Yun had deliberately dressed simply, but as soon as she stepped into the neighborhood, she was forced to endure a lot of strange and probing looks.  Many people even stopped what they were doing and raised their eyes to look at her.

    Fortunately, the curator¡¯s male students were surrounding him, and no one came forward to harass him.

    Following his memory, Wanyun walked to the old building where Feng Jian took him there late at night.

    She knocked on the door next door. After a long time, the rusty iron door only opened a small crack. When she saw a group of people following Wan Yun, the other party hurriedly closed it.

    Wan Yun quickly blocked the door.

    The people next to him helped push him, and finally, an old woman with a sallow face and age spots on her forehead hesitantly stuck her head out.  She looked at Wanyun up and down warily: "Who are you? My son is really no longer here, my family??There is no extra money to pay off his debts!  You go quickly!  Please leave quickly!  "

    Wan Yun paused: "Excuse me, do you know Feng Ang?"

    "I don't know who he is!" The other party was obviously relieved, she raised her voice, and then impatiently closed the door.

    "Then do you know Feng Jian?"

    The door slammed shut, but after a moment of silence, it was hesitantly pushed open again.

    "Feng Jian?" The old woman showed a reminiscing expression, "That that, that, Xiao Feng from a long time ago? The Xiao Feng who is doing well outside now? They said he has a lot of potential. We have known for a long time that he  He has always been a good person, he sent me home"

    Wan Yun breathed a sigh of relief: "Do you know his uncle?"

    Painting is never a job that can be rushed.

    For safety reasons, Wan Yun could only go to Linlang Street for two hours every day to look for materials, accompanied by others.  Even so, she still slowly typed out Uncle Feng Jian's initial draft based on other people's descriptions.

    The man in the sketch has the same forehead and chin as Feng Jian.  However, unlike Feng Jian, the eyes of the person in the painting are full of exhaustion and weakness.  To be fair, Feng Jian's uncle, just like everyone who looked at Wanyun from a distance in Linlang Street, had an evil aura that was hard to escape from being humble and insignificant.

    But Feng Jian didn¡¯t feel this way at all.

    She tapped the brush carelessly. What's going on?  Could it be that I interviewed the wrong person?  The painter's job is just to record.

    At this moment, a pair of hands tapped the drawing paper in front of her. It was Feng Jian who came to take her home today.

    "How long do I have to wait?" he asked, seeming to be in a good mood, "I'll wait for you downstairs?"

    The man¡¯s eyes dropped and he casually glanced at the drawing paper that Wan Yun had no time to hide.

    There was no surprise as expected. When Feng Jian took a closer look at the characters on the screen, his entire expression felt as if someone had slapped him in the face, and his face quickly darkened.

    "You? Li Wanyun?" Feng Jian said in disbelief, "This? Are you painting my uncle?"

    Wan Yun stood up: "Feng Jian?"

    The resemblance, the resemblance is so great, from the expression and demeanor, it is so lifelike that it can be seen on the paper.  It was like his uncle came to him after traveling for more than ten years.

    This is the first time Feng Jian has really looked at Wanyun's paintings, and she has to admit that she is very good at it.

    However Feng Jian didn't want to admit that this was his uncle.

    The familiar voices and looks of relatives are still in my mind, but I have never looked at myself with such eyes.

    ¡­It shouldn¡¯t be like this.

    Some feelings in my heart were tainted. The emotions caused by seeing that painting were like a raging fire, burning from the soles of my feet to my chest with lightning speed.

    Feng Jian felt that her whole heart was hot and her mind was going crazy.

    He crumpled up the draft, threw it into the corner, turned to Wanyun and roared: "How dare you draw my uncle?"

    Wan Yun took a step back. She had never seen Feng Jian lose his temper like this before: "I'm sorry, I once heard you ask me to draw you -" (Remember this site's website address: www.hlnovel.com
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