The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 24

in your name

On the third week after moving into the River View Apartment, Shen Zhiyi officially set up a new roll of rough-grained watercolor paper in the center of the easel, and wrote two clear and small characters – “Wateful Thoughts”.

Each stroke contains puns that only she and Lu Wanheng can understand:

It is Wan Heng’s Wan, and it is the meaning of Zhiyi;

It is the gentleness of the night, the determination of the intention;

What’s more, the long night of fog in Hong Kong has cleared, and the long-awaited thoughts finally come.

When Lu Wanheng walked into the balcony studio with hot milk, he happened to see her put the last stroke.The morning light slanted across the drawing paper, illuminating the word “Wan Yi” warmly. The girl held the pen, her side face immersed in the soft light, and the tip of her nose was still stained with a little unwiped charcoal ash. She was so serious that it made your heart melt.

“Are you deciding on a new series name?” Lu Wanheng put the cup on the thermostatic coaster in her hand, gently hugged her from behind, and rested his chin on the top of her hair.

“Yes.” Shen Zhiyi leaned into her arms and tapped the paper with the tip of his pen. “From now on, I will draw “Wateful Night”. The only protagonist will be you, and the background will be Wugang.”

Lu Wanheng’s breathing paused slightly.

She had seen Shen Zhiyi paint long streets and lanes in the market, boats sailing in the mist of the river, lonely lanterns on rainy nights, and lonely shadows in cold light, but she never thought that one day it would become the center of a whole series.

“Using me as the theme?” Her voice was very soft, with a hint of disbelief.

“Yes.” Shen Zhiyi turned around, raised his face to look at her, his eyes were as bright as falling stars, “Draw your mornings, your late nights, your suits, your nightgowns, your calmness in the investment bank, your tenderness at home, the way you make breakfast for me, the way you stay up late with me… Paint everything about you in my eyes into the wind, light, and fog of Fog Harbor.”

Lu Wanheng lowered his head and kissed her gently on the forehead, with a slight sore throat: “Then do I want to cooperate with you as an exclusive model?”

“Not only do you have to be a model,” Shen Zhiyi smiled slyly, poking her chest with his fingertips, “you also have to be the source of inspiration, chief sponsor, exclusive logistics, and first audience. Life-long contract, non-cancellable.”

“Life-long tenure.” Lu Wanheng repeated, holding her hand firmly, as solemnly as if he was signing a contract of the century, “Deal.”

The “Evening Thoughts” series was officially launched in the morning light of the balcony studio.

In the first picture, Lu Wanheng “appeared” in person.

She was wearing a simple white shirt, with the cuffs rolled up casually to her forearms. She stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, with the mist-covered river behind her.Shen Zhiyi set up his easel and mixed one dish after another of grey-blue, matte white and light gold. The tip of his pen spread layer after layer of moisture on the paper, locking the calmness in Lu Wanheng’s eyes, the neatness of his shoulder line, and the inextricable tenderness around his body into the painting bit by bit.

“Don’t move,” Shen Zhiyi concentrated on writing, “You are just a painting standing there.”

Lu Wanheng remained really motionless, allowing her to trace, but his eyes always fell on her, which was hotter than the morning light outside the window.

Halfway through the painting, Shen Zhiyi suddenly stopped writing and tilted his head to look at her: “Why are you laughing?”

“I was thinking,” Lu Wanheng said in a very soft voice, “This is the first time in my life that someone has drawn me into an entire series so seriously.”

“Then you will get used to it in the future.” Shen Zhiyi dipped his paint again and said in a determined tone, “I will paint many, many paintings until you get tired of them, until the four seasons change in Fog Harbor, and until our heads turn gray.”

Lu Wanheng didn’t say anything, but just stepped forward, gently held her pen-holding hand from behind, and led her to cast a warm light together.

From then on, every painting in the “Evening Thoughts” series has the same warmth as the two.

During the day, Lu Wanheng was working in the living room, with the sound of keyboards and the rustle of brushes coming and going, not disturbing each other, and feeling at ease with each other.

As soon as she raised her eyes, she could see the figure holding the pen on the balcony. When Shen Zhiyi got tired of painting, he would turn back and smile at her. One look was enough to smooth away the fatigue of the whole day.

In the evening, Lu Wanheng went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, and Shen Zhiyi followed him in with a drawing board, leaning on the door frame to draw her.

Draw her silhouette in a gray apron, her neat wrists when beating eggs, her slightly frowning eyebrows when tasting, and the tenderness in her eyes when she turns around and hands over a small piece of fruit.

The steam from the pot is steaming, the light is warm and yellow, and the watercolors bloom on the paper, creating human fireworks. This is the most life-like frame in “Late Night”.

Late at night is Shen Zhiyi’s creative peak.

After Lu Wanheng finished his work, he moved his computer and sat on the lazy sofa on the balcony to stay up late with her.She mixed paint, changed water, sharpened pencils, and handed over and wiped pens. She took care of all the chores, leaving Shen Zhiyi to concentrate on writing.

The river breeze blows through the hall, the lamps in the studio are warm, the smell of turpentine is wrapped in the fragrance of coffee, Shen Zhiyi is immersed in the drawing, and Lu Wanheng occasionally raises his eyes, and he can see the top of her hair that is illuminated by the light, and he feels completely at ease.

“What’s the name of this one?” Lu Wanheng looked at the newly completed night scene draft – the foggy port was full of lights, she was sitting in the car, her profile reflected on the window, the passenger seat was empty, but there was a beam of light just for her.

“‘Waiting for You’.” Shen Zhiyi said softly, “Every night when you finish work, you wait in the car for me to collect the drawings.”

Lu Wanheng’s heart felt warm, and he reached out to pull her into his arms, kissing her on the top of her hair: “Then the next one is about us going home together.”

The theme of “Late Thoughts” gradually becomes clear:

No shocking scenes or dramatic conflicts, just Lu Wanheng’s daily life in Wugang, Lu Wanheng in Shen Zhiyi’s eyes.

There are people in suits and ties standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of an investment bank in “Cold Light Continues”,

There is “Morning Fog” about frying eggs in the kitchen early in the morning,

There is “Waiting” that stands at the alleyway with an umbrella on a rainy night.

There is “Same Light” who stayed up late with her in the studio,

There is “Double Shadow” watching Jiang side by side,

There is the “Pillow” of sleeping in each other’s arms.

In the corner of each picture, there is a small double seal stamped: Zhiyi & Wanheng.

The naming of each painting contains secret words that only they can understand.

Lu Wanheng carefully dried the completed paintings, framed them into small framed paintings, and placed them on the bookshelf in the living room, the bedside in the bedroom, the entrance table, and the desk in the study.

The once cold and minimalist apartment is now filled bit by bit with “Wateful Night”. Every time you look at it, there is their story.

“Aren’t you afraid that others will see you?” Shen Zhiyi would occasionally ask.

Lu Wanheng always held her tighter, magnanimously and tenderly: “I wish that everyone would know that my people, in my name, have painted a whole world.”

Late one night, Shen Zhiyi finally completed the draft of the prologue of the “Late Night” series. In the center of the picture was the Fog Harbor River. The skylight broke through the fog, and a figure stood in the light and stretched out his hand towards her.

She picked up a pen and wrote a line of small words at the bottom of the painting:

“The evening has arrived, the fog has dispersed and the light has emerged. From now on, the four seasons will be painted for you.”

Lu Wanheng hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder, looking at the words, his voice was low and gentle:

“Then I will be your lifelong model, lifelong audience, and lifelong confidence.”

Shen Zhiyi held her hand with his backhand, and the pen tip steadily placed the last stroke.

Outside the window, the foggy harbor is filled with lights, and the lights in the balcony studio are gentle.

The “Late Thoughts” series officially begins,

With her as her name, Hong Kong as the scenery, love as the pen, and the rest of her life as the scroll.

Banxia novel, a lot of fun