Chapter 46: Life-and-Death Friendship

After helping move the fish tank, Chen Ci's forehead was beaded with trickling sweat.

The weather here is really hot; even a little activity makes me sweat all over.

Just then someone handed over a towel; Chen Ci took it, thanked casually, and picked up the towel to wipe his sweat.

The person who handed the towel, however, had an exasperated expression: 'I gave you a rag to wipe the fish tank.'

Chen Ci: '……'

Half an hour later, Chen Ci was drenched in sweat.

While others were moving things, he also rummaged through boxes and cabinets everywhere, looking for valuable items.

The two sides didn't interfere with each other, as if they had an unspoken understanding.

Until Chen Ci's steps stopped again, facing the TV wall in the center of the living room, where two identical paintings hung on the wall.

The reason he stopped was because another person was also staring at those two paintings—the very baseball cap who had opened the door for Chen Ci earlier.

To say the painting is special in any way—aside from consisting only of black, white, and yellow tones, it looks unusually dim and monotonous.

"Is it nice?"

Chen Ci asked, these two paintings have hung here for many years; anyway, Chen Ci can't appreciate them, it's rare that someone can look at them so seriously.

The baseball cap didn't turn his head, saying: 'You don't understand, this is Ya Se Hai Ming...'

Chen Ci found it odd: 'You still know Ya Se Hai Ming?'

The baseball cap finally turned his head, revealing a rough, unkempt face with stubble.

His face showed a strange expression: 'You also know?'

Whether he knew or not, Chen Ci couldn't be bothered to answer, and directly reached out to take the painting.

The baseball cap hurriedly said: 'What are you doing?'

"This is my stuff, of course I have to take it away."

Chen Ci had also realized earlier that the person wearing the baseball cap was the leader of this group, and he accordingly revealed his identity.

The baseball cap still didn't understand: 'Your stuff, what does that mean?'

"This is my home."

"Oh, you... why didn't you say so earlier?"

Chen Ci ignored him and continued to collect the paintings.

The baseball cap frowned at his actions and couldn't help asking: 'Why are there two identical ones?'

Chen Ci laid the painting flat on the floor and bent down to take apart the frame.

Without looking up, he casually replied: 'Oh, this one is the original, and this one is a copy my mother made.'

It's rare to meet someone who knows Ya Se Hai Ming; if my mother were here, she and this baseball cap would have plenty to talk about.

This painter is really too obscure; even Baidu doesn't have an entry for him.

If it weren't for my mother's liking, after traveling thousands of miles to acquire this original, Chen Ci wouldn't possibly be interested in him.

"Then your mother... cough, where is the aunt?"

"Alright, he also thought of that, Chen Ci raised his head and pointed upward."

The baseball cap immediately understood, gave a dry cough: 'Alright, sorry.'

However, Chen Ci suddenly took an interest in him: 'Do you really like Ya Se Hai Ming?'

Over these many years, Chen Ci has never heard the name Ya Se Hai Ming from a second person, let alone someone who likes him.

This also counts as a rare sight, proving that my mother's hobby isn't completely lonely.

The baseball cap stared for a moment, then said: 'It's not exactly a simple liking; Ya Se Hai Ming is a color-blind painter, so he only uses black, white, and yellow.'

"When I was young I also learned to paint, but I am congenitally color‑weak and couldn't persevere."

"I also heard he's a novelist; he writes novels, I write scripts—we're kindred spirits."

Chen Ci chuckled: 'My mother is also congenitally color‑weak and likes painting—what a coincidence.'

But that's also true; without some shared trait, no one would pay attention to this extremely niche, obscure painter.

Speaking of which, Chen Ci had already removed one frame and rolled the painting inside into a tube.

Pointing to the other one: 'If you really like it, I'll give it to you.'

"Huh?"

The baseball cap was dumbfounded on the spot, mouth open for a few seconds before finally speaking: 'What did you say?'

Chen Ci pointed at the painting on the ground: 'I'll take my mother's work, and I'll give you the Ya Se Hai Ming original.'

"This..."

Obviously this wasn't the explanation the baseball cap wanted to hear; Chen Ci patted his shoulder.

"My mother never met anyone who knew Ya Se Hai Ming in her whole life; although it's late, it can barely be counted as a life‑and‑death friendship."

"Anyway, I can't appreciate this painting; taking it would just be letting it gather dust, so you might as well take it."

To put it bluntly, this painting is really too niche; even if Chen Ci wanted to sell it, he'd probably not find a buyer for ten or eight years.

Since he's run into someone who understands, he's doing his mother a favor, so it won't be forgotten in some corner and wasted.

"No way, I never owe favors. Like this, you name a price, and I'll buy the painting."

Chen Ci chuckled, 'Never owe favors?' This guy is somewhat interesting.

"Forget it, where would I go to give you an estimate? Just leave it as is…"

Saying this, Chen Ci turned and shouted upstairs: 'Na Zha, come down, we're going back.'

Not long after, Na Zha poked his head out from the stairwell: 'Brother-in-law, I found your childhood photo, it's really cute.'

While saying that, he waved the photo around—what a fellow, it really is 'from childhood'; that's a family portrait taken when Chen Ci held his full‑month celebration.

"Where did you dig that up from? Come down quickly."

Chen Ci found it both funny and frustrating; he had put away all those old photos, which were meaningful memorabilia.

Oh.

Na Zha's condition was obviously much better than before; she jumped down the last two steps of the stairs in one leap.

Be careful, are you not feeling uncomfortable anymore?

Na Zha came over and grabbed Chen Ci's arm, nodding and saying, "Mm, I'm just a little hungry."

Her stomach had been acting up all night; being hungry was normal. Chen Ci pinched her still somewhat miserable little face and said, "You're hungry—do you still want to eat seafood?"

Oh, no!

Haha, let's go.

Brother-in-law, did you hear that? Don't eat seafood...

Chen Ci picked up a tote bag and stuffed his mother's painting inside along with it.

The scroll was too long; only half fit inside, leaving the other half outside.

With his other hand he took Na Zha's, and the two walked toward the gate, chatting and laughing.

They had taken just two steps when a discordant voice called out from behind: "Wait!"

Everyone busy inside suddenly froze; Chen Ci stopped, and Na Zha also looked over curiously.

The person in the duckbill cap frowned and said, "You really don't know who I am?"

What's it to you who I am?

The duckbill cap wearer let out a sound, not angry but amused, and finally took off his cap.

Chen Ci had long wanted to complain—wearing a cap in this heat, he must be sweating like crazy.

And now?

This time it was Chen Ci's turn to cough. "Big brother, does it make any difference whether you take off your cap or not?"

But not saying anything would seem impolite: "I remember now—you said you write scripts."

"I did say… I'm still the director of this play."

"Director? I only know Zhang Yimou, Feng Xiaogang… and Chen Kaige."

I felt it would be remiss not to mention it; in Na Zha's hand-held photo, the little poetry whiz happened to be included.

As the most distinctive-looking person in the whole family portrait, she was quite noticeable…