Chapter 465 - 222: Zhou Yan Is Eating Too Well! Damn Him...

Chapter 465: Chapter 222: Zhou Yan Is Eating Too Well! Damn Him...

"This is Big Sister Huang Ying. She rides her bike over every day to eat, and she brings me all sorts of yummy treats. She’s so good to me."

"This is..."

The little one explained the story behind each drawing in her sweet, childish voice, and everyone listened with smiles on their faces.

She was so adorable, she made the drawings seem all the more lively and charming, as if they were glowing.

"This one is amazing! Could you give it to me? I want to take it home, frame it, and hang it by my bed," Duan Yu Yan said to Zhou Momo, pointing at the picture of the swing.

"Of course you can!" Zhou Momo nodded, pulled the drawing out without a second thought, and handed it to Duan Yu Yan. Tilting her head, she added, "But you have to miss me when you go home, okay?"

"I’ll think of you every single night." Duan Yu Yan leaned over to give her a kiss, then happily admired the drawing.

In the drawing, she was sitting on a swing, cradling little Zhou Momo in her arms with a radiant smile. The sky was blue, and the art style was bright and warm.

Worried the drawing might get smeared with grease, she took it outside and handed it to Yan Fei, who was squatting by the door. She told him to go to the supply store, buy a frame, and put it in a simple mounting for now.

After returning to her seat, Duan Yu Yan’s smile was much brighter. She looked at Xia Yao and asked curiously, "Xia Yao, are you a painter? Did you major in fine arts?"

Xia Yao shook her head slightly. "I’m not a painter; I studied interior design. There are artists in my family, though, so you could say I know a thing or two."

"I see. My mother and I are both very fond of traditional Chinese landscape paintings. We’ve even been to several Sotheby’s auctions, and our family has collected many works by famous artists. My absolute favorite is a female painter. The atmosphere in her paintings is just breathtaking—vast, misty waters, exquisitely detailed. You can feel the spiritual elegance of the mountains and rivers." Duan Yu Yan looked at Xia Yao and added curiously, "You may have heard of her. Her name is Meng Zhilan."

Huang Ying couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise, "Meng Zhilan! My high school art teacher mentioned her. She said she’s a Grandmaster of landscape painting, and that her father, Meng Hanwen, is also a Grandmaster of traditional Chinese painting. Two Grandmasters in one family! Our teacher spent half a class talking about them. It really stuck with me."

Duan Yu Yan smiled and nodded. "That’s right, that’s her. My family also has one of Grandmaster Meng Hanwen’s paintings. It’s my mom’s absolute favorite, and it hangs in our living room."

"Xia Yao, what’s your take on them?" Duan Yu Yan asked, looking at her.

"I... am not really in a position to comment." Xia Yao’s smile was tinged with resignation. "Meng Zhilan is my mother, and Meng Hanwen is my maternal grandfather."

"What?!"

Hearing this, the other three at the table were completely stunned, staring at Xia Yao in utter disbelief.

’Those legendary painters they had only heard about were actually Xia Yao’s mother and grandfather?’

Duan Yu Yan’s mouth hung slightly open. It took her a moment to close it. She had unconsciously scooted closer to Xia Yao, still finding it hard to believe. "Is Meng Zhilan really your mother? The same Meng Zhilan who painted *Misty West Lake*?"

Xia Yao thought for a moment before nodding. "That would be the one she painted in the summer of ’79, by the Broken Bridge at West Lake. I spent half the day swatting mosquitoes for her."

Duan Yu Yan snapped her mouth shut and offered a very solemn apology. "I’m so sorry. I was calling your mother by her full name. That was a bit disrespectful."

"It’s no problem. Names are meant to be used. My mother wouldn’t be angry in the slightest. In fact, she’d be happy that you like her work." Xia Yao smiled and shook her head. "If you really like her paintings, I’ll ask her for one when I go home for the New Year. I can have her put her seal on it and mail it to you."

"You’re so wonderful," Duan Yu Yan said, her eyes sparkling.

Looking at Xia Yao, she suddenly understood the saying: true grace is born from a well-read soul.

A young lady from a family of scholars, with a profound heritage of learning, poised and elegant—she needed no external trappings to prove her worth.

’Zhou Yan had it way too good.’

’Damn him!’