Ye Changqing took her inside.

The gallery was tranquil, and upon entering, a strong scent of ink and paper filled the air.

"This is my friend's gallery."

Ye Changqing explained. No sooner had he finished speaking than someone came forward, clearly recognizing Ye Changqing, bowing slightly, "Professor Ye, are you looking for Mr. Su?"

Ye Changqing nodded slightly. "He hasn't arrived yet?"

The young lady smiled politely, very reserved. "Mr. Su rushed over as soon as he got the call; he's still on his way. I'll take you inside to sit for a bit."

The gallery was elegantly decorated. Passing through a long corridor, Ding Xian realized this gallery was quite extraordinary. Many famous paintings she had only been fortunate enough to see as copied samples in books, even paintings not found in museums.

She actually saw them here.

"Is your friend a painter?"

Ding Xian asked softly.

Ye Changqing smiled, shaking his head. "No, he's a businessman reeking of money."

"..."

He pointed towards the door. "See the painting outside the door? He's a collector, fond of world-renowned paintings. An American museum once offered a high price to acquire that Rembrandt painting at the entrance from him, but he refused to sell it. I thought he wanted to keep it because he liked it, but then he said he just enjoyed the sense of superiority, the kind that money can't buy."

"..."

'He must be a pervert.'

Ye Changqing sighed, "Although I dislike his reek of money, I have to admit he's a very talented person who values talent. If it weren't for him buying all my paintings when I was down and out, your uncle might have starved to death on the streets. Don't you want to learn to paint? Perhaps he can help you."

Ding Xian hesitated, "My mom doesn't seem to agree."

Ye Changqing said, "The path ahead is yours to walk. When I first studied painting, my family strongly disagreed too. Who knew I could reach this point? Not everyone is blessed with an easy living."

Ding Xian hadn't received systematic training. The path of art had always been expensive, and Ye Wanxian strongly opposed her learning to paint. So, she hadn't attended any proper training classes. The fundamentals she possessed were learned from Ye Changqing when she was little. Although she drew well, she still lagged behind students who had formally studied painting.

She was afraid she would make the wrong choice.

Ye Changqing knew Ding Xian's worries and encouraged her, "You've always been excellent, there's no doubt about that. Have a little more confidence in yourself."

No sooner had he spoken than someone pushed the door open and entered.

The first thing that caught the eye was a pair of purely handmade custom leather shoes, polished to a brilliant shine, with sharp, clean pointed toes.

"Long time no see, Changqing." A mature man's magnetic voice.

Ye Changqing turned his head. With a clear view, Ding Xian saw a handsome face, half-smiling, standing elegantly at the doorway. His shirt and trousers outlined his smooth body lines.

The man walked up to the two of them, lowered his head to glance at Ding Xian, and said in a pleasant voice, "Hello there, little one."

If Ding Xian were to evaluate Su Bocong later, he truly was someone reeking of money, yet he could perfectly pretend to be a refined and cultured gentleman.

Su Bocong led them through the entire gallery. Ding Xian was drawn to one particular painting, standing before it for a long time without moving. Su Bocong, with a faint smile, glanced at Ye Changqing, "Your niece has good taste."

Ye Changqing gave him a look, meaning, 'Isn't that right?'

Su Bocong smiled faintly again and said to Ding Xian, "What? You like my painting?"

Ding Xian tilted her head, carefully examining the brushwork of the painting, which was delicate yet simple, with sharp lines and clear outlines. For a moment, she was captivated, then slowly nodded, "I like it."

Su Bocong teased, "It's two million."

"..."

'As expected.'

Startled, Ding Xian quickly moved away from the painting, went to Ye Changqing's side, and whispered, "Let's go, Uncle."

Su Bocong maintained his gentlemanly smile throughout.

After viewing all of Su Bocong's rare and precious collections, Ding Xian's horizons were broadened, and she was truly awestruck by the allure of money.

Before leaving, Su Bocong handed Ding Xian a business card. "Next time I acquire a new collection, you're welcome to visit anytime."

With that, he put his arm around the waist of the beautiful woman beside him and left.

...

During the last two days of National Day, Ding Xian rushed back to Beijing from Shanghai. She looked at the desk full of test papers with distress. There were seven test papers and three essays in total. She rushed through two sheets overnight. The next morning, before dawn, before the roosters even crowed, she was already sitting at her desk writing papers again.

She didn't need to look in the mirror to know that her two dark circles were definitely heavier than a panda's.

In the afternoon, just as she finished the fourth chapter, Ye Wanxian called her from the living room: "Xianxian?!"

Ding Xian responded perfunctorily and continued writing.

Ye Wanxian couldn't wait. She pushed the door open and came in, impatiently saying, "Come out here quickly! I made some hibiscus cakes; go deliver them to Siyue's house for me."

She didn't even lift her head, writing furiously, and said stubbornly, "I won't deliver them."

Ye Wanxian came straight over and pulled her ear. "What are you saying? Hurry up and deliver them!"

Ding Xian was incredibly annoyed. She hadn't finished her test papers or essays. "What's the point of delivering anything?" she muttered helplessly, "Mom, I'm rushing to finish my homework. If I don't finish, the teacher will scold me tomorrow."

Ye Wanxian was already displeased about her trip to Shanghai. Without any rhyme or reason, she dragged Ding Xian up and pushed her out the door. "Who told you to go out and see that useless art exhibition? And you came back so late! Hurry up and deliver them, then come back and write. It won't delay you that much."

Half an hour later.

At the Zhou Family's entrance, the Zhou residence was at the end of East Alley, with a heavy and somber green-painted gate.

"Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling."

Ding Xian puffed out her cheeks, exhaled, and pressed the doorbell.

No one opened the door.

"Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling."

She pressed again.

A few seconds later, she heard the shuffling sound of slippers inside, growing from faint to heavy, until it reached behind the door.

"Kla—!"

The heavy iron gate gave a low groan.

A tall, slender figure appeared at the doorway. Judging by the familiar bed head, Zhou Siyue seemed to have just woken up. He was rubbing his hair, squinting his eyes for two seconds. After seeing who it was, his hand paused in his dark hair, making his hand look exceptionally white, with long, slender, and delicate knuckles.

Two seconds later, he regained his aloof expression, raised an eyebrow at her, and his voice was icy:

"What are you doing here?"

Ding Xian was expressionless. She lowered her head, retracted her gaze, and shoved the item in her hand into the boy's arms, her anger boiling over, "Bringing you feed!"

After saying that, she turned and left without a second's hesitation.

However, a lazy and rather sarcastic voice came from behind her.

"Oh, you're delivering love letters for people, then delivering food." Are you a delivery person?"