Chapter 718 A Toast to the Departed (Part 2)

“I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful in taking care of Shengzi next time. She’s my treasure too,” Gu Weijing said earnestly.

He didn’t hesitate or argue, and offered an apology right away.

Earlier, when greeting Mrs. Sakai, he was poised, and now he apologized with the same calmness, without any pretense or awkwardness.

His words not only filled Koizumi Katsuko’s eyes with love but also made Mrs. Sakai glance at him with newfound admiration.

Interesting.

Seeing how well Gu Weijing handled the situation, Mrs. Sakai decided to let it go, and very rarely, she found herself feeling a touch of appreciation and fondness for this young boy.

“Okay, but just apologizing isn’t enough. Let’s see how you do next time.”

Mrs. Sakai reached out, unusually, as if she wanted to ruffle his hair like she did to her daughter’s.

“Shengzi spent ages getting it just right for me.”

Unexpectedly, Gu Weijing stepped back to avoid her touch.

Shengzi worked on it?

Heh,

Mrs. Sakai pouted, feeling a bit jealous. Her precious daughter had never styled her hair for her own mother, who cherished her for eighteen years.

He’s only been cozying up to my daughter for a few days!

If you won’t let me touch, then I won’t!

Even if young Koshiba Tarou wanted me to touch, I wouldn’t. My daughter’s soft silky hair is much nicer than the few tufts on your head. I can RUA it however I like.

Ingrate.

In a show of defiance, Mrs. Sakai ruffled Shengzi’s hair right in front of Gu Weijing.

“Let’s go, Shengzi, we’re going home.”

If you won’t let me touch, then my daughter won’t let you touch her either.

Hmph.

Mrs. Sakai eyed Gu Weijing smugly, and in retaliation, prevented her daughter from hugging him goodbye, dragging Miss Sakai away.

“The flower on your face looks nice, very classic. Did Gu Weijing draw it for you?”

Before getting into the car, Mrs. Sakai couldn’t resist whispering to her daughter.

“Hmm.” Shengzi nodded lightly.

“I’ll have your dad learn and draw one for me too, this is way cooler than a tattoo.” Seeing no one was nearby, Mrs. Sakai suddenly reached out, gently tugging her daughter’s collar, peering down for a glance.

“You haven’t been secretly advancing, have you?”

She asked worriedly in a whisper, fearing the flower might not just be on her face.

“No, no, Mr. Gu respects me. But Mom, you’re acting more like a rogue than a boyfriend,” Shengzi retorted, dissatisfied, reclaiming her collar.

“Heh, girl, what are you shy in front of your mom for, always remember, girls should be a bit reserved…”

As Uncle Ah Lai watched the distant figure of Miss Sakai and her mother leaving, he stood by Gu Weijing and asked, “Are you going home?”

“No, we’ll go to the orphanage first to drop off Jasmine. Today… I also wish to toast a senior,” Gu Weijing replied.

—————–

Moonlight streamed through the window into the small painting room of the orphanage.

Gu Weijing stood alone by the window, holding a cup of hot tea, viewing the fairy tale book against the backdrop of the city’s nightscape.

[“Noble art cannot be told by critics, it speaks for itself. Noble souls cannot be bound by earthly matters, they seek their own freedom.”]

He softly read the dedication on the flyleaf of “The Little Prince,” his fingers grazing over the blue ink as if feeling the texture of Mr. Tree Sloth’s pen strokes as it swept across the paper fibers.

Gu Weijing had seen this artistic maxim from the “Oil Painting” magazine many times since he was little.

Logging onto the magazine’s official website, he would also find this German version of the tribute to Lady K. in the corner of the web homepage.

At first glance, Gu Weijing felt little understanding.

After having disagreements and conflicts with the “Oil Painting” magazine, he even thought this phrase was pretentious.

Comparing it to the way their chairman, Sir Brown, conducted business.

The noble motto imprinted on the back cover of every magazine, promoting the magazine’s style, felt hypocritical, saying one thing and doing another.

He felt Mr. Tree Sloth giving him this phrase was both an encouragement and certainly a humorous critique of the “Oil Painting” magazine.

There were a few weeks left until Gu Weijing’s birthday this year.

After enduring painful decisions in the botanical garden, Gu Weijing quietly matured in this spring of April, amidst his mental coming-of-age ceremony.

Now, looking back at this dedication, savoring it carefully.

He experienced a different kind of flavor.

Perhaps.

Mr. Tree Sloth didn’t give him this phrase merely to mock the “Oil Painting” magazine, right?

It was also a kind of encouragement and comfort of “just do good deeds, don’t worry about the future,” yet he was too green to understand it before going through a true awakening and transformation.

Divesting his subjective dislike towards “Oil Painting.”

Not to mention, at least an art criticism magazine established a hundred years ago, choosing “Noble art cannot be told by critics” as its founding motto was indeed a bold move.

Gu Weijing chuckled.

In the corner of the art studio rested his recent work, a meticulously mimicked “Old Church on a Stormy Day.”

He looked at the painting, at the moonlight, recalling Christmas Eve of 1876, with the same kind of night enveloping the female painter named “Carol,” thinking of the fears and struggles within him today, wondering if Lady Carol also went through the same.

Fate seemed like a loop.

The same night covered the same church, and one hundred and fifty years later, it shrouded another young soul much like hers.

Surely, surely Lady Carol was a resilient painter, able to calmly complete her work regardless of success or failure in the depth of night?

“Senior, do you think… I could live to see the sunrise in the East?”

Gu Weijing glanced at his mimicked piece, softly asking the soul from a century ago.

His tone was calm, devoid of the anxious thirst for success, only a serene smile in the face of life’s challenges.

Gu Weijing was no longer afraid.

Even if Carol never had the world’s spotlight shining upon her like dazzling sunshine during her life, she still transformed her love for the world and art into flowing lightning, frozen on a dusty, unnoticed canvas.

Even if he never truly reaches the peak of art.

He still has a loving grandfather, a guiding mentor like Mr. Tree Sloth supporting him, and Miss Shengzi by his side.

He too could be a happy person, a kind person.

Moreover, even with just the online name Detective Cat, Gu Weijing is actually more successful, luckier than Lady Carol in many ways.

As long as he acknowledged all the valuable and beautiful things he already possessed, he need not fear.

“To you, Lady Carol!”

Gu Weijing raised his teacup to the moon in the sky, taking a small sip of the bitter tea.

Whether it was the coming-of-age ceremony at eighteen or paying homage to a respectable senior from a century ago, it seemed using wine was more fitting.

Indeed, on the way back, Gu Weijing had asked Uncle Ah Lai to drive to a gift shop on Diplomat Street and buy a bottle of red wine.

Yangon rarely has renowned Bordeaux wines like Lafite or Red for sale; the most expensive is an American wine called Screaming Eagle.

One hundred and eighty thousand Myanmar Kyats a bottle.

Gu Weijing made a small impulsive purchase.

However, after buying it, and even opening the wine, Gu Weijing remembered Elder Cao’s advice against touching wine, women, wealth, and temper, so that he could steady his brush as he aged.

Gu Weijing had an internal struggle for a bit.

A small sip might do little harm, after all, he wouldn’t need to worry about Parkinson’s for another half-century.

But he ultimately decided against breaking his vow.

That Lady Carol, in the societal context of her time, choosing to sketch and paint in the Far East, must have been a free-spirited remarkable woman, not bothered by such trivialities.

He offered Lady Carol a small toast with tea instead of wine.