So although last night's unhappiness still remains in her body, she has been able to face it with a new mentality.

In the morning, when she faced the first rays of the morning sun, she silently told herself: It's no big deal, as long as Xiao Ying is willing to live with herself, there is no hurdle that cannot be overcome. After so many years, Xiao should deal with his feelings are indeed real, and this is enough. And his feelings for him are also black and white, and he naturally knows it. If he fails me, I will not forsake him.

Thinking of this, she was relieved.

She had the intention to mix in the crowd and quietly watch the excitement of the meeting, completely being a bystander, and coldly watching how Zhuang Yousheng coped with such a scene.

In her mind, Zhuang Yousheng should be a person who is not good at this kind of entertainment, and he is also the kind of person who is shy and bored when he meets a lot of people, so he is not in a hurry to greet Zhuang Yousheng.

She didn't move here, and she was thinking about the interesting idea of watching the excitement than watching the art exhibition, and Zhuang Yousheng's sharp and sensitive eyes had already caught a glimpse of the slender and slender familiar figure in a corner in the distance, like a cat, silent.

Just when the butterfly was distracted, only looking at a strange person who was dressed very strangely and behaved very strangely, Zhuang Yousheng had inadvertently arrived in front of him, and said coldly: Wuji, why don't you come in?

Let the butterflies break out in a hot sweat.

Zhuang Yousheng looks particularly radiant today, and his eyes are very gentle, especially when he looks at butterflies, how did that indifference turn into finger wrapping?

The butterfly looked at him in a daze, as if he didn't know him, he chuckled at the corner of his mouth, and then said: Come in, what are you looking at?

Butterflies are a little embarrassed, why are they always caught by others when they are distracted?

Butterfly smiled and said, "I'm admiring this gallery, it's good, it's good, it's good."

Zhuang Yousheng seemed to be reminded by her, and also glanced at the gallery, and then said lightly: I didn't pay attention to this, this time this exhibition is also the intention of the publisher, I just take out the works, as for the rest, someone is responsible.

Butterfly said: That's right, you're a painter, just paint, and you shouldn't have to worry about these mundane things, right?

Butterfly felt that his words were somewhat flattering, but Zhuang Yousheng obviously didn't care at all, listened expressionlessly, and then didn't say anything, and entered the gallery with the butterfly.

Butterfly secretly felt bored, so she curled her mouth, it turned out that there were still some things I wanted to say along with it, but now I feel that there is no need to talk so much nonsense, just look at the painting!

The whole gallery is in the shape of a "convex" character, the layout is clean and tidy, and there are paintings hanging on the white curtain wall, which are basically figure paintings, black and white ink, most of which butterflies have never seen.

According to Zhuang Yousheng himself, many of them are early works. At that time, he had just come to the United States to start living, and he had not yet fully studied oil painting, so the style of those paintings was basically traditional ink painting. In his later paintings, many of his ink paintings tend to be the kind of light, sensitivity, and layering of oil paintings, in short, they reveal a style of fusion of East and West. You can feel the light and shade of the colors in the ink painting.

is also amazing, can use a pen, a study of ink, can make a black and white oil painting, butterfly thinks, Zhuang Yousheng is indeed a talent.

It is said that when Zhang Daqian wandered abroad, he also had a deep relationship with Picasso, and it was the kind of friendship that the master cherished and hated to see each other. It is said that some of Zhang Daqian's paintings in his later years were inadvertently influenced by Picasso, and it is unknown whether Picasso was also influenced by Zhang Daqian, a master from China.

The so-called literati have been inferior to each other since ancient times. But there are actually moments of sympathy between literati.

Márquez, for example, was a great admirer of Hemingway's iceberg principle, although he was still penniless at the time, and he often wandered the streets in a daze because of hunger. Once met Hemingway unexpectedly, his excitement at that time was about the same as when fans met his goddess and male god today.

It's just that Hemingway was already waning at that time, and Marquez was a star waiting to rise, until he wrote "One Hundred Years of Solitude".

Zhuang Yousheng accompanied the butterfly to look at the paintings, and also gave her a general introduction to the origin of these works, and then was dragged away by another group of strangers.

Butterfly felt a little more relaxed, she could walk around at will, without following his tall body like a student, listening carefully and nodding her head in agreement.

It was a group of foreigners who spoke strange foreign languages, with dark complexions and strange clothes.

Butterfly suddenly remembered that Gao Ruohan had been to Istanbul once after his wedding, by the way, this group of people still had a vague taste of that place.

The butterfly peeked a few times and then looked away.

A boy came over with a tray of drinks, walked up to the butterfly, and actually squeezed his eyes at the butterfly very friendly, and the butterfly also kindly curled his lips at him.

Originally, I didn't want to drink anything, but when he stood in front of the butterfly with the tray in front of him sincerely, the butterfly also took a drink from the tray with great sincerity.

Lighten his weight! Butterflies thought so.

The boy didn't leave, he stood there, and then, while holding the tray, he began to speak: I work here, my name is Jason, can I know your name?

Butterfly was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said, "Oh, my surname is He."

Butterfly didn't plan to meet a little boy here, and yesterday she just experienced an unpleasant life and almost began to doubt love and human nature.

Today is another sleepless fatigue, and my mind is planning to finish this place quickly, and then go home early and lie down on the bed to make up for a good night's sleep.

Therefore, she just reported her own surname, and the name behind it was omitted, and she met in Pingshui, who still knows who when she walks out of this door? Maybe you'll be able to forget about it in an hour.

Jason blinked and said, "What? And then where?

The butterfly couldn't help but smile a little bitterly, and when she met a persistent one, she helplessly said: My name is He Wuji. Thank you for the drink.

Jason smiled slyly and added: You are very familiar with Mr. Zhuang?

As soon as the butterfly wanted to lift her feet and slip away, she had already seen the direction of the slide, and it was in a painting with a lot of people, and for some reason, the crowd of people crowded in front of this painting and chattered for a long time.

The foot that I just wanted to stretch out was taken back, and I had to answer this sentence before slipping away: Oh, yes, a friend.

Jason, looking at the butterfly with a very strange look, seemed to be thinking about something, and said, "No wonder, I thought you were here to buy a painting."