The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 10

Heart Towards Wanheng

The afternoon Shen Zhiyi received Lu Wanheng’s invitation to the cocktail party, she stood helplessly in front of the few plain clothes in her studio wardrobe for a full half-hour.

The message from the other woman was gentle: There is a niche art cocktail party on Saturday night with some friends from design and galleries. If you would like to come, I will pick you up. There was no condescending charity or forced accommodation, just a calm invitation, as natural as being handed a glass of warm lemon water. Yet Shen Zhiyi was flustered. She had never been to such an occasion. Paint stains from the old studio still clung to her sleeves, looking completely out of place against the sophistication of a cocktail party.

She pulled out her only cream-colored knit dress, bought with her first freelance commission after graduation. The style was simple, without any decoration. Paired with clean white sneakers, it was the most decent outfit she could manage. She also made a point to wash her hair a day early, combing her long hair straight and repeatedly smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt with her fingertips, terrified of making Lu Wanheng lose face in front of everyone.

On Saturday evening, a thin mist rose over Wugang again. The black sedan stopped punctually at the entrance of the studio alley. Lu Wanheng rolled down the window. She wore a well-tailored dark blue velvet suit that made her shoulder line look sharp and upright. Her usually tied-up long hair was draped down, losing some of its workplace sharpness and gaining a touch of gentle elegance. Seeing Shen Zhiyi standing at the door looking uneasy, a faint smile rippled in her eyes as she pushed open the car door and stepped out.

Nervous? Lu Wanheng reached out and naturally brushed away a stray hair from her shoulder. The warmth of her fingertips transmitted through the fabric, making the tips of Shen Zhiyi’s ears turn red instantly. She nodded subconsciously.

Don’t be afraid. They are all acquaintances. We won’t talk about finance, only art. It is very relaxing. Lu Wanheng opened the passenger door, shielding the top of her head as she let her in, then leaned over to fasten her seatbelt. Her movements were gentle and practiced. With me here, you don’t have to force yourself to deal with anyone.

The familiar scent of cedar drifted through the car, merging with the scent on Lu Wanheng’s body. Shen Zhiyi’s tense shoulders slowly relaxed, and her fingers gripping her skirt gradually let go. She stole a side glance at the person beside her. The light and shadow of the streetlamps swept across Lu Wanheng’s profile; her jawline was smooth, and her eyelashes cast fine shadows when they lowered. She was so gentle it made Shen Zhiyi’s heart race out of control.

The party venue was hidden in an old Western-style house by the river. There was no noisy music or the superficiality of clinking glasses. Warm yellow light wrapped around jazz music, and the walls were hung with works by emerging artists. The air was a mix of champagne and white roses—a gentle world Shen Zhiyi had never seen before.

The moment they pushed the door and entered, several gazes turned toward them simultaneously. When they saw Shen Zhiyi beside Lu Wanheng, their looks became more inquisitive. Shen Zhiyi subconsciously shrank behind Lu Wanheng like a deer that had wandered into strange territory, her palms sweating from nerves.

Sensing her unease, Lu Wanheng reached out and gently rested a hand on the small of her back. The pressure was restrained yet provided an immense sense of security as she kept her by her side. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it reached her ears clearly: Just follow me.

The warm touch traveled through the thin dress. Shen Zhiyi’s cheeks burned bright red, and her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest, yet she obediently stayed close to Lu Wanheng’s side as they walked into the venue. That seemingly light support was Lu Wanheng’s quiet protection, blocking out all the inquisitive gazes from the outside world.

Wanheng, you’re finally here. And this is? A man in an artistic shirt approached them. He was Chen Zhou, the gallery owner and a long-time friend of Lu Wanheng. His gaze fell on Shen Zhiyi with friendly curiosity.

Shen Zhiyi, an illustrator. My artist. Lu Wanheng’s introduction was concise, but she deliberately emphasized the word my. There was an imperceptible protectiveness in her tone. Zhiyi, this is Chen Zhou. He runs a gallery. If there are exhibition opportunities in the future, he can help.

Shen Zhiyi quickly bowed her head in greeting, her voice soft and light: Hello, Mr. Chen.

Don’t be so formal, just call me Brother Chen. Chen Zhou smiled as he looked her over, his gaze passing over her clean features before landing on Lu Wanheng’s hand protecting her. A flash of realization crossed his eyes. Wanheng rarely brings anyone to these gatherings. It seems Miss Shen is quite special.

Lu Wanheng didn’t confirm or deny it. She simply handed a glass of non-alcoholic peach sparkling water to Shen Zhiyi: Don’t drink the champagne. This is mild and suits you. Shen Zhiyi took it with both hands. The coolness of the glass suppressed the heat in her heart. She looked up at Lu Wanheng, her eyes filled with unmistakable gratitude.

People came over one after another to say hello. They were all niche creators, designers, and curators from the art world. There was none of the utility or calculation of the financial world; their conversation was all about the exploration of creation. Lu Wanheng introduced Shen Zhiyi to each of them, never forgetting to add that her illustrations are very soulful. She was not stingy with her approval, gradually pulling Shen Zhiyi into this gentle circle.

At first, Shen Zhiyi stood awkwardly to the side, not daring to join the conversation, until someone noticed the drawing tube peeking out from the side of her bag and asked about it curiously. Shen Zhiyi looked at Lu Wanheng hesitantly. After receiving a nod of encouragement, she carefully pulled out a few sketches she carried with her—the mist of Wugang, the doors of old alleys, the boats by the river. They were all snippets she recorded daily. Her brushwork was delicate and full of emotion.

This watercolor texture is incredible! The layers of the mist are so perfectly blended!

The lines are so clean. This is an illustration with a very personal style. It could definitely be shown as a series.

Miss Shen must have a professional background, right? Your control over light, shadow, and emotion is so keen.

Praises came one after another. They were not polite platitudes but genuine recognition. Shen Zhiyi’s fingers trembled slightly as she held her sketches. Growing up, the things she heard most were not doing proper work and useless. She had never had so many professionals sincerely affirm her creations. She looked up at Lu Wanheng, who was looking at her with a smile. The tenderness in her eyes was like the warm sun of Wugang, piercing through all her self-doubt and insecurity.

I told you, your paintings would definitely be recognized, Lu Wanheng leaned in and whispered. Her breath brushed against her ear, bringing a wave of tingling sensation. The people here only look at the work, not the status. Feel free to talk boldly.

With Lu Wanheng’s encouragement, Shen Zhiyi slowly opened up. She talked about color palettes with the designers and creative ideas with the curators. A light gradually sparked in her eyes—the relaxation and joy of being understood and accepted. She finally realized that she didn’t need to deliberately please others or make humble compromises. With just her paintbrush, she could have a place in this world.

During the intermission, Lu Wanheng was pulled aside by several investors to talk about art investment. Shen Zhiyi stood on the terrace with her sparkling water, looking at the mist spreading over the river. Her fingertips still held the warmth of being praised. She looked down at the sketches in her hand and suddenly understood. Lu Wanheng bringing her here was never just for socializing; she wanted to give her a chance to be seen and recognized. She wanted her to know that her passion was never just self-admiration.

What are you thinking about? Lu Wanheng’s voice came from behind. Shen Zhiyi turned around and met a pair of eyes filled with tenderness.

I was thinking… thank you for bringing me here. This is the first time so many people have recognized my paintings. Shen Zhiyi’s voice carried a slight sob, and her eyes shimmered with tears.

Lu Wanheng reached out and gently wiped away the moisture from the corner of her eye. Her touch was as light as a feather: Your talent should never have been buried. I only made an introduction. What truly moves people is your work and your purity.

The wind on the terrace blew in with the mist, ruffling Shen Zhiyi’s stray hairs. Lu Wanheng naturally raised her hand to tuck a strand behind her ear. Her fingertips accidentally brushed against her earlobe, and both of them froze. The jazz music became hazy, and the sweet scent of champagne mixed with the aroma of cedar. Ambiguous emotions grew wildly in the mist, so close that they could hear each other’s heartbeats.

Shen Zhiyi’s cheeks were flushed. She didn’t dare look into Lu Wanheng’s eyes and could only stare at the pearl button on the other woman’s suit collar. Her heart beat as if it would explode. She could clearly smell the scent on Lu Wanheng and feel her warm breath. All her sensitivity and introversion turned into an uncontrollable heartbeat at this moment.

Wanheng, Shen Zhiyi spoke softly, breaking the silence. Why… are you so good to me?

She was just a down-and-out illustrator with no family background or status. She could barely even maintain a decent life. She wasn’t worth Lu Wanheng reaching out her hand again and again, protecting her time and again.

Lu Wanheng looked at her reddened ears. The tenderness in her eyes deepened, and her tone was calm yet certain: Because you’re worth it.

Worth her anonymous transfers, worth her personal introductions, worth being protected, and worth her breaking ten years of restraint and detachment to fall for someone.

Three short words were better than any sweet talk. They struck Shen Zhiyi’s heart heavily, making her eyes turn red instantly. She nodded vigorously, swallowing all her gratitude and excitement into her heart, turning them into the courage to keep painting.

As the party neared its end, Chen Zhou approached Shen Zhiyi and proposed putting her Wugang series of illustrations in his gallery for a small exhibition and sale. She would not have to bear any costs, and all the proceeds would go to her. For Shen Zhiyi, this was a dream opportunity. She looked at Lu Wanheng excitedly, and the other woman nodded with a smile: This is what you deserve. Feel free to say yes.

When they left the old Western-style house, the night was deeper and the mist thicker. Lu Wanheng took off her suit jacket and draped it over Shen Zhiyi’s shoulders. The jacket was large, wrapping around her figure, full of the scent of cedar—warm and reassuring.

The wind is cold at night. Don’t catch a cold. Lu Wanheng tucked the jacket around her, her movements natural and intimate.

Shen Zhiyi wrapped the jacket tightly, smelling the scent on it, and whispered: Wanheng, your jacket…

Wear it for now. Give it back to me when we get to the studio. Lu Wanheng opened the car door, still carefully shielding the top of her head.

As the car drove through the streets of Wugang, Shen Zhiyi leaned against the passenger seat, watching the neon lights pass by outside the window. She still held the contact information for the art platform she received at the party. Everything tonight felt like a beautiful dream. She had stepped out of her cramped old studio, been accepted by true peers, and was properly protected by Lu Wanheng. For the first time, she felt that being loved, recognized, and respected was such a warm feeling.

What are you thinking about? Lu Wanheng held the steering wheel and glanced at her.

I was thinking that the mist tonight doesn’t seem so cold anymore. Shen Zhiyi looked up and gave a clean, pure smile, like a white bellflower blooming in the mist.

Lu Wanheng looked at her smiling face, the corners of her mouth curling up unconsciously. She said softly: When the mist dissipates, it will be warmer. Once the mist is gone, everything will be fine.

The car stopped at the entrance of the studio alley. Shen Zhiyi took off the suit jacket, folded it neatly, and handed it back to Lu Wanheng. Their fingertips touched again, and neither of them withdrew immediately.

Thank you so much for tonight, Shen Zhiyi said seriously.

No need for thanks. I will bring you to occasions like this again in the future. Lu Wanheng took the jacket, her gaze locked firmly on her face. Get some rest early. If anything happens, message me anytime.

Shen Zhiyi nodded, pushed open the car door, and got out. She stood at the alley entrance and waved until the black sedan disappeared into the thick fog before turning to walk into the studio. She leaned against the wooden door, touching her burning cheeks. Lu Wanheng’s voice still echoed in her ears, and the scent of cedar still lingered at the tip of her nose. The throbbing in her heart surged like a tide.

She walked to her easel, spread out a new sheet of paper, and squeezed out watercolor paints. Her brush fell, outlining the terrace of the old house, the mist on the river, herself draped in the suit jacket, and the gentle figure protecting her by her side.

Tonight, she was no longer the struggling, down-and-out artist alone in the old studio. She was seen, accepted, and cherished. And the person who brought her all this was like a beam of light in Wugang, steadily shining into her world, making it impossible for her to look away.

In the car, Lu Wanheng held the suit jacket that still carried Shen Zhiyi’s body heat, leaning against the steering wheel with a tenderness she had never felt before. She opened her phone and looked at the message Shen Zhiyi had just sent: I have arrived safely at the studio. Her fingertips paused on the screen for a long time before she finally replied: Goodnight, Zhiyi.

Her heart, which had been frozen for ten years, was completely melted by this pure girl on this mist-filled night. She knew that her feelings for Shen Zhiyi had already crossed the line of appreciation and help, turning into uncontrollable attraction and concern.

The mist of Wugang still didn’t dissipate, but two hearts had quietly drawn closer during this niche cocktail party, never to be separated again.