Substitute Lover [Entertainment Industry] - Chapter 55

“I’m sorry,” Ji Fan’s voice was low.

Her gaze followed Jiang Cha’s paintbrush, watching her slowly fill in a rough light blue tone, revealing different layers. She turned her head and stared quietly at Jiang Cha, whispering, “I wasn’t intentional back then. I was in a bad mood.”

Jiang Cha was right beside her.

Thick long hair, a fair nose. The sunlight gently shone on her smooth forehead, and her clear eyes were hidden by the soft, long hair hanging on her side face, making it difficult to see her expression.

The side profile was indifferent, a posture of rejection.

She didn’t say much about this apology, only saying, “It’s been a long time. There’s no need.”

No need.

Ji Fan looked at her quietly.

Her lips were a little pale.

••••

When Ji Fan was four or five years old, her family was very happy.

Some things, you either never have, or never lose.

It’s only painful to get something and then lose it.

A long time ago, her mother was still alive. She came from a wealthy family, was well-educated, and was not weak and delicate. On the contrary, she was very good at managing the household. At that time, although her father flirted with other women outside and kept many mistresses, he never dared to act up at home, and Ji Fan was kept in the dark.

The family could maintain a superficial harmony.

When her father was happy, he would even pick her up and let her sit on his shoulders, and he would even playfully poke her face with his beard to amuse her.

Later.

All the hidden flaws were exposed after her mother’s death.

She couldn’t accept it.

It was the person closest to her who taught her to see how dirty the world really was.

But like all children, no matter what, she couldn’t really have no expectations of the father who gave birth to her. After all, sometimes he was really a good father. Every month, he would worry that Ji Fan didn’t have enough pocket money and would give her a lot of money. Sometimes, worried that she wouldn’t eat well at school, he would occasionally call her proactively to ask about her situation.

How could there be no feelings for someone who shared the same blood?

Although she seemed indifferent, she would have some expectations in her heart more or less.

That Sunday, the day before Ji Fan’s birthday, and she had returned home.

At the dinner table, her father celebrated her return by personally cooking a sumptuous dinner for her.

Ji Fan was a little surprised and couldn’t help but wonder if her father remembered. So she tentatively asked, “Dad, do you know what day tomorrow is?”

Her father seemed a little surprised and laughed, saying, “Thanks to Fanfan for reminding me, tomorrow is the anniversary of Aunt and I being together.”

Ji Fan fell silent for a moment.

On her birthday, her mother was in the delivery room, in excruciating pain, her life hanging in the balance. Yet for her father, it was the anniversary of being with his aunt? She looked at her suddenly-acquired brother and her stomach churned.

“Oh, anniversary?”

The woman smiled softly and wrapped her arm around her brother, saying, “It’s a pity it’s Monday tomorrow, otherwise we could go out and play together.”

“It’s okay,” her brother waved his hand. “I don’t have class tomorrow.”

“What about Fanfan, do you have class?”

Ji Fan didn’t respond.

“She, she has class all day tomorrow,” her brother replied for her.

With this one sentence, all three of them seemed to relax – as if they were
afraid she would follow and ruin the atmosphere.

Ji Fan stood up abruptly.

In the center of the living room was a Chinese rosewood multi-function cabinet, filled with her father’s collection. There were Ru ware porcelain, jade carvings, all kinds of fragile antiques. Ji Fan reached out and pushed hard. With a crash, a whole cabinet of collectibles was smashed to pieces.

A deathly silence.

Of the three people at the dinner table, her brother spoke first, “Dad, it’s okay, let’s eat first.”

The woman echoed, “Yeah, yeah, Fanfan must be tired from school, it’s normal for her to have a bad temper.”

“Get out.”

His face was gloomy, and he slammed his chopsticks on the table.

“…….”

Ji Fan raised her chin, her eyes widened, and tears welled up.

“You’re the most superfluous person in this family.”

Her father pointed to the mahogany door and threw an open book from the coffee table. The red hardcover book, a biography of Van Gogh, happened to hit her hard on the head, and Ji Fan staggered.

Her father said word by word, “Now, get out.”

As soon as the door closed, her father’s mumbled curses could be heard: “She’s crazy, reading Van Gogh? I think she’ll end up in a mental hospital sooner or later.”

There was a burst of laughter from inside.

Ji Fan shrank by the door, burying her head in her knees.

She trembled all over.

Her book was still thrown to the side. The dim ceiling light suddenly illuminated the bright red cover. A man with a missing ear, holding a pipe, was silently looking at her.

Back at school, she pretended nothing had happened, remaining calm and collected. Ji Fan tried to appear normal, trying to put the unpleasant things behind her.

But just then, the next day, Jiang Cha came to her house near the school and gave her the painting.

The man in the painting had a bandage on his ear, wore a felt hat, and was pale and thin. He was wearing an unkempt coat and had a pipe in his mouth.

The moment Ji Fan’s eyes met the man’s in the painting, it was as if her heart had been grabbed, and she had difficulty breathing. For a long time, she couldn’t think straight.

“She’s crazy…”

Ji Fan suddenly stood up, her head throbbing as if it would explode. Her face turned pale as paper. She stiffly went downstairs and threw away the painting.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Going upstairs, she saw Jiang Cha.

The girl stood in the corridor, completely unable to understand what had happened, her eyes widened in confusion, and tears streamed down her face.

Jiang Cha was crying.

Her eyes were red, her tears wet her eyelashes, and a wet trail crept down her face, falling heavily.

Ji Fan was suddenly at a loss.

From the time she met Jiang Cha, she had always been smiling softly, her smile was sweet, and those who saw her felt like they were bathed in sunlight, warm and incredible. When Jiang Cha didn’t reply to her messages, she would just complain a little, and when she encountered trouble, she would just frown, as if nothing could bother her.

Ji Fan thought she was the kind of person who didn’t care.

But now she was crying.

She had upset Jiang Cha.

Ji Fan’s heart ached, a piercing pain. She tentatively approached, feeling inexplicably flustered.

“Are you crying?”

Ji Fan lowered her head and reached out to wipe away the tears on her face.

Jiang Cha stiffened, slapped her hand away, lowered her head, and took a few steps back.

Ji Fan’s mind was in a mess, and she couldn’t make sense of anything.

Those tears were like a hammer hitting the softest part of her heart, sour and swollen, making her at a loss for what to do.

Her lips moved, but she couldn’t speak.

Jiang Cha turned around and left.

Ji Fan stood there, calming herself. The corridor was dimly lit, and a small, dusty window was half-open. The wind blew through her curly hair, and her face, pale and transparent, was framed by the thick, dark hair. Her lips, however, were painted a bright color.

She lowered her head and buried her face in her palms, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

Slowly, she calmed down.

Later that evening, as the sky darkened, stars appeared.

Ji Fan went downstairs, wanting to do something.

A cleaning lady, wearing rubber gloves and carrying a large black plastic bag, passed by. Ji Fan paused, suddenly feeling nervous.

She wondered if the painting was still there.

She went to search through the trash cans.

She found it.

The canvas was clean, and it was clear that it had been painted with care. Jiang Cha’s brushstrokes were meticulous, bringing the painting to life. The man in the painting had an earthen-gray face, green eyes, ashy-gray hair, and wrinkles around his forehead and mouth. His gaze was vacant and dull, filled with melancholy and sorrow.

Ji Fan carried the painting upstairs slowly, sealed it, and hid it.

She wanted to tell Jiang Cha that she hadn’t thrown it away.

She picked it up.

She wanted to apologize.

But she didn’t know how to explain her momentary lapse.

After so many years.

An apology this late wouldn’t really matter.

••••

10 o’clock in the morning.

The square is gradually becoming crowded.

A group of people gathered around a corner where someone was performing.

A photographer, carrying a camera, held up a reflector with one hand, adjusting the lighting and focus.

The woman in the picture was dressed all in black, tall and slender, wearing a stylish black and white checkered halter top and black wide-leg pants. Her upper body was short, and below her slender waist were incredibly long legs, slightly staggered. The shoulder rest was placed firmly on her white left collarbone, and her chin was slightly tilted, resting on the violin.

Her right hand held the tip of the bow, and her left hand pressed on the strings.

The strings vibrated, and the sound came through the loudspeaker.

Under the sky, a group of white and gray dots moved across the square, and the silver-gray spherical dome glass reflected the light. Children’s laughter scattered in the wind.

There was a different sound in the wind.

A violin.

The familiar melody struck Jiang Cha’s eardrums one after another.

A few people passing by stopped and listened intently.

“Hey, what’s this song called? It sounds like our old school bell.”

“Schubert’s Serenade.”

“Serenade? Sounds familiar.”

Jiang Cha heard someone say:

“If I remember correctly, this song is used to confess to someone.”

A/N: Happy 520!

T/N: Happy 520!(I,Love,You!)