Substitute Lover [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 53

“What does this mean?”

Song Yuan asked, confused after reading the words on the piece of paper.

The minibus had reversed out of the hotel and was slowly driving through the dimly lit city. In the night, the traffic was sparse and it felt especially cold. A guy in the front opened the window, and the cool wind blew in directly, gradually waking everyone up.

The host, standing at the front of the car, wearing a headset, explained.
“The main goal is to collect coins, and the additional condition is to have an audience.”

With her explanation, everyone understood.

A young man in the back seat asked, “Does that mean we can sing with a guitar at the subway station or something?”

“Yeah,” the host replied casually, sitting down in the front row, “But not necessarily. You can do that if you can sing, but if you can’t sing, you can choose other methods. As long as there are people watching and willing to give you coins, that’s fine.”

Huh?

Song Yuan asked incredulously, “So what if someone can’t do anything, are they supposed to beg?”

There was a mix of people in this group.

There were four women, and the men included a singer, a pianist, an actor, and a famous CCTV host.

It’s easy for a singer, but where can a pianist find a piano to play? And what about the actor and director, they have nothing to do with music, so they can only beg?

Although Jiang Cha had her eyes closed, she wasn’t asleep and had been listening intently.

The words on the paper were actually very clear, they just explained the four words “performance art” in one sentence. The meaning of that sentence was to let the guests challenge street performance art and judge the winner by the number of coins they collected.

But.

Performance art seemed a bit difficult for them.

Compared to traditional art forms like painting and sculpture, which focus on preserving the results of artistic behavior, performance art emphasizes and focuses on the significance of the artist’s performance process, and is a typical form of process art with a performative character.

That’s something for performance artists, and they don’t know anything about it.

“Rules: Everyone, hurry up, you have a limited time of one day. The deadline is 6 pm, and whoever collects the most coins wins. There will be a reward for the winner and a punishment for the loser.”

Reward?

Ji Fan lowered her eyes slightly.

She remembered the round disc she saw in the hotel corridor that they carried.

There was a word “kiss” on it.

She turned her head and glanced at Jiang Cha.

Coincidentally, Jiang Cha’s long eyelashes trembled and she lifted her eyes.

Her newly awakened eyes were as pure as a lake, quietly meeting her gaze.

The two of them were startled and then looked away.

When they were woken up in the morning, it was only around 5 am.

The minibus had been driving for a while, and the sky was gradually brightening.

The sky brightened quickly in the early morning, and it was still dark just a moment ago, but now there were signs of dawn.

There were people going to work on the road.

The city was slowly waking up.

••••

The bus stopped at the park entrance.

There was a children’s palace and a community center nearby, so there were a lot of people and it was very lively.

The main cameraman had left, and the eight individual cameramen were ready.

The eight people got off the bus, all pondering.

Being so exposed to the camera, it was impossible to cheat and exchange coins from their own wallets.

They could only think of a way.

Jiang Cha could paint.

Although she wasn’t a professional art student, she had been doing it as a hobby for many years.

“Where are you going?”

Ji Fan asked from behind her.

Without turning her head, Jiang Cha replied, “To buy paint.”

Ji Fan had just taken two steps forward when Jiang Cha coldly said, “Don’t follow me.”

Fine.

Ji Fan didn’t get angry.

She was satisfied with the kiss she got this morning.

In an open square, white pigeons flapped their wings and flew away against the morning sun. Ji Fan noticed an old man sitting by the wall.

The old man had an erhu beside him and was bending over to connect the amplifier. In front of him was a small bowl that currently had no coins in it.

Hmm.

She was in no hurry.

It was still early, and by 8 or 9 o’clock, there would be many street performers.

Those who play the violin, those who play the flute.

And even those who play the pipa.

••••

Jiang Cha bought a bucket of paint from a nearby stationery store and started squatting on the ground to paint.

She didn’t have any ideas, so she just painted a copy of the one hanging on the hotel wall.

She was wearing a pure white shirt, the material was thin and transparent, so she had to add a small black suspender inside. With her sleeves rolled up, revealing a section of her white and slender wrist, she held a light wooden brush in her hand, and her red lips curved into a smile.

She had light makeup on, her long eyebrows reached her temples, her eyelashes drooped, and the corners of her eyes were tinged with a light red. Her nose bridge was slightly prominent, and the profile of her side face was incredibly delicate, like a fragile piece of porcelain. The light was transparent, with a light orange halo, which was gently applied to her red lips, giving a soft and warm color.

Her long hair fell softly, blocking her vision.

Jiang Cha hooked it behind her ear with her little finger, and her snow-white side face was thin and quiet.

In stark contrast to this girl’s temperament was a small iron bowl beside her.

There was one coin in the bowl.

“This little girl is so pitiful.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s so young, how come she has to make money like this?”

“I think she paints really well. That little bird, it’s so cute.”

Little bird?

Jiang Cha looked at her painting of “Starry Night” and fell into deep thought.

The group of elderly tourists were still curiously watching:

“She’s so pretty.”

“More than just pretty.”

The old lady said in an exaggerated tone, lowering her voice, “She’s so beautiful, she’s like a fairy descended to earth.”

The elderly people didn’t know much about these popular celebrities, and only a few fashionable ones who liked watching TV dramas discovered something different.

“This girl looks familiar.”

“She looks like that actress.”

“Yes, yes!”

“She looks like the young lady in that ‘Republican Romance’.”

“Let me take a picture and ask my granddaughter.”

Although it was early, some people who had gotten up early were already around.

The coins in Jiang Cha’s bowl gradually increased.

Meanwhile,

#JiangChaStreetPerformance

A trending topic popped up out of nowhere.

The pictures underneath were clearly unedited candid shots taken with a phone. A girl was squatting on the ground, her white fingers stained with a bit of colorful paint, but her eyes were smiling, and her profile was focused and serious.

She was wearing a white shirt, and her soft black hair reached her waist, as thick as a waterfall.

She was more beautiful than the painting.

In another picture, she had copied “Starry Night”.

With a blue base and bright yellow mixed in, she painted a moving, changing starry sky. The entire picture seemed to be swallowed up and rotated by a surging, turbulent current, flowing into the boundless depths.

In the vast expanse of cool colors, a bright yellow moon was like a bright lamp, illuminating the silent night house with its magical light.

She knew herself that she was just copying, and her work was ten thousand miles away from the original.

But to outsiders, it looked good.

Comments from curious onlookers instantly flooded in.

“Is that Jiang Cha?”

“Are you sure it’s not Luo Yan?”

“Of course it’s her, they have completely different vibes.”

“She paints so well.”

“Why is it always Chacha when something bad happens, and Luo Yan when something good happens?”

“Wow, Starry Night?”

“Wait, the iron bowl next to her…”

“She can’t be that poor, is this performance art?”

••••

Jiang Cha had been squatting for a long time and her legs were starting to go numb, so she stood up to rest.

Coincidentally, Song Yuan, who had been wandering around without any ideas, passed by and saw her immediately, her eyes lighting up.

“Wow!” she exclaimed exaggeratedly, “Sister Jiang, you’re amazing.”

Jiang Cha was a little embarrassed by her praise and shook her head repeatedly, “No, I paint very poorly.”

“How can you say that?” Song Yuan pointed with her index finger, “You’re being so humble it makes me angry.” Then she leaned in, revealing her true intention, and whispered, “Why don’t you paint one for me too? I really have no idea what to do.”

Jiang Cha smiled lightly and pointed to the little red hat wearing the camera and sitting on a stone bench: “Someone’s filming.”

Song Yuan continued to sweet-talk her.

“I’ve discovered that my eyesight is really good.”

“Hmm?”

“You know, even though you’ve been getting scolded all the time, I think you’re super awesome.”

Jiang Cha laughed: “Why? Because I have a good mental state?”

“No,” Song Yuan said, “It’s nothing. Anyway, I’m your fan.” She whispered, blinking her eyes and curving her red lips, “Won’t you fan me back?”

Jiang Cha’s heart warmed, as if it had been scalded by fireworks on a winter day, instantly filled with a dense warmth.

“Why are you a fan of me?”

“I’m so bad.”

“Because I like you.”

Song Yuan looked at her with a happy smile.

Jiang Cha was startled, and before she could say anything, she suddenly felt a touch on her waist.

A sudden hug.

The woman’s two white, bony hands were crossed in front of her abdomen, and a silver watch with a sapphire blue dial gleamed on her slender wrist.

She was hugged from behind.

The person behind her leaned her head to the side, her lips just grazing her ear, her voice low, as if she was saying to someone, “You can’t like her. She’s married.”

T/N: Hmp… Too possessive.