The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 4

Commonplace Fireworks

Three hours after Lin Wei took the oil painting of the old pier, Shen Zhiyi pinned herself to her drawing desk.

A brand-new imported canvas was stretched over the easel, its linen texture fine and smooth. The mink brush Lin Wei had left behind felt warm and sleek between her fingers, a world away from the worn-down brushes she had been using for the past six months. She pinned the profile sketch Lu Wanheng had selected next to the canvas. On her palette, she squeezed out cobalt blue, charcoal black, ivory white, and light gray—all cool tones that suited Lu Wanheng’s temperament. Only in the highlights of the cheek did she reserve a bit of warm apricot, wanting to hide that fleeting softness she had glimpsed during their first meeting.

The fog outside the window clung from morning until afternoon, never once dispersing. Only scattered footsteps echoed through the alleys of the Old Town District. The sea breeze, heavy with moisture, seeped through the window cracks and brushed against the wet paint on the canvas, giving the dry colors a hazy texture unique to Wugang. Shen Zhiyi held her breath, her brush first outlining Lu Wanheng’s jawline—sharp and clean, yet she deliberately softened the curve at the corner of the lips. She didn’t paint her with the cold hardness typical of an investment banking elite, but instead preserved the gentleness hidden in her bones.

She was so focused on every detail of the image that she didn’t notice her phone vibrating at the corner of the desk. It wasn’t until the screen lit up for the third time that the repeated notification pings pulled her back to reality. Shen Zhiyi wiped the paint from her fingertips and picked up the phone. Her pupils contracted slightly—it was a message from Lu Wanheng. It wasn’t a relay from an assistant, but a direct message from the woman herself regarding revisions to the sketch.

Heng: The background skyline doesn’t need to be deliberately clear. Keep the sense of fog to maintain consistency with the atmosphere of your pier painting.

Heng: Deepen the shadows on the collar to emphasize the shoulder line. There’s no need to smooth out the sharp edges.

Heng: Attached is a photo of Wugang from my office window for your reference.

Below the messages was a photo taken from a high-rise office building. Looking down, the entire Wugang was submerged in thick, milky-white fog. The skyscrapers only showed half of their glass curtain walls, looking like lonely islands floating in a sea of clouds. Compared to the old pier under Shen Zhiyi’s brush, one was cold and the other warm, one modern and the other vintage, perfectly forming a complete picture of Wugang.

Shen Zhiyi’s heart skipped a beat for some unknown reason. Her fingertip lightly brushed over the aerial view on the screen. She could imagine Lu Wanheng standing before the floor-to-ceiling window, holding her phone with one hand to take the shot, her suit sleeves slightly rolled up, her fingers clean and slender, gradually overlapping with the silhouette she was painting. She hurried to reply, weighing every word for fear of sounding dismissive: Understood, Miss Lu. I will adjust the background immediately and optimize the fog effect according to your reference photo. I’ll send the revised sketch for your confirmation once it’s done.

Less than ten seconds after the message was sent, the other party replied with a simple “Mhm.” It was cold yet efficient, much like her personal style.

Shen Zhiyi immediately put down her phone and readjusted the background composition. She blurred the originally clear outlines of the buildings, using a wet-on-wet technique to layer multiple washes of pale blue and grayish-white. She let the fog roll in from the edges of the frame toward the center, enveloping Lu Wanheng’s profile in a half-light, half-dark mist. This not only highlighted the subject but also created an emotional resonance with the old pier painting. She specifically hid a very faint warm yellow within the layers of fog, like the light of a distant pier lighthouse, subtly matching the state of mind she felt when she was first “enlightened” upon meeting her.

By the time the revisions were complete, it was already evening. Shen Zhiyi adjusted the canvas repeatedly, ensuring every bit of fog, shadow, and line was impeccable before taking a high-definition photo. After cropping and color-correcting it, she sent it to Lu Wanheng with a message: Miss Lu, the background has been modified as requested. Please see if it meets your expectations. Any detail can be adjusted further.

After sending it, she placed the phone right in front of her eyes and stared fixedly at the screen. She even lightened her breathing, like a student waiting for her grades, anxious yet expectant. One minute, three minutes, five minutes passed, and the dialogue box remained empty. Shen Zhiyi’s palms began to sweat, and she couldn’t help but start doubting herself: Was the fog too faint? Was the shoulder line not sharp enough? Did the colors not suit the other woman’s aesthetic?

She even picked up her brush, ready to make changes at any moment, until the screen lit up and Lu Wanheng’s reply popped out.

Heng: Better than expected. Keep this texture. No more changes needed.

That single sentence of affirmation instantly dispelled all of Shen Zhiyi’s anxiety. She leaned back against her chair and let out a long sigh of relief, the corners of her mouth curling into a faint, uncontrollable smile. She replied, “Thank you for the approval, Miss Lu. I will complete the final draft as soon as possible.” She put down her phone, and the hand holding the brush felt lighter. Mixing colors, laying down the base, and carving out details happened in one smooth motion. Even the smell of turpentine in the studio seemed exceptionally pleasant.

The sky turned completely dark, and the streetlights of Wugang blurred into fuzzy spots of light in the thick fog. Shen Zhiyi turned on the warm desk lamp beside her. The yellow light fell on the canvas, making Lu Wanheng’s profile appear even softer. When she reached the platinum necklace around the neck, she specifically used white paint to add highlights, recreating the cold luster of the metal. Then, at the position of the pendant, she lightly dabbed a tiny speck of warm light, like a small star hidden within the painting.

Just as she was detailing the eyes, the phone vibrated again. This time it was a voice call, and the caller ID showed “Lu Wanheng.”

Shen Zhiyi hurriedly answered, her voice carrying a hint of lingering breathlessness: “Hello, Miss Lu.”

“I hope I’m not disturbing your painting?” Lu Wanheng’s voice was deeper than it had been during the day, with the faint sound of a car driving in the background. She was likely on her way home from work. “I just saw the revised sketch. The fog in the background looks very much like the view from my office window. You have a great eye for atmosphere.”

“It was your reference photo that gave me the inspiration.” Shen Zhiyi gripped her phone, leaning sideways against the easel, her gaze falling on the eyes on the canvas as she responded softly. “I’m used to melting the fog of Wugang into my paintings. It feels as if, by doing so, I can keep a little piece of this city.”

“Fog can’t be kept; it can only be recorded.” Lu Wanheng’s tone was calm, carrying a trace of imperceptible sentiment. “I’ve been in Wugang for ten years. I watch the fog rise and fall every day, but I’ve never been moved by a painting like I was today.”

Shen Zhiyi’s heart jolted. Her fingers tightened around the phone. she wanted to say something, but because she was too flustered, she didn’t know how to respond. She was naturally sensitive and introverted, not good at handling such direct praise, especially from someone like Lu Wanheng who had already made a favorable impression on her. All her emotions were blocked in her throat, turning into a small, whispered “Thank you.”

Lu Wanheng seemed to sense her nervousness and didn’t push the topic further. Instead, she asked, “When do you expect the portrait to be finished? I’m going on a business trip next week and would like to see the finished product before I leave.”

“It will definitely be finished within three days. I’ll notify you the moment it’s done,” Shen Zhiyi immediately gave a precise answer, her tone firm. “I’ll work through the night to ensure it doesn’t delay your schedule.”

“There’s no need to stay up late. Work at your own pace; the work is more important than the time.” Lu Wanheng’s tone softened, losing its professional sharpness and gaining a bit of consideration. “When you’re finished, you can just send me photos of the details. You don’t have to wait for me to come by. I’ll have Lin Wei pick it up. You don’t need to wait for me specifically.”

“I can wait for you, it’s no trouble,” Shen Zhiyi blurted out. The moment the words left her mouth, her cheeks burned. She hurriedly added, “I usually stay up late anyway. I often pull all-nighters when I’m finishing a commission. If you come to pick it up in person, we can confirm the details face-to-face. It’s more reliable.”

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the line, followed by a very soft laugh from Lu Wanheng. It was like a sea breeze brushing over the water—subtle and gentle. “Alright then, I’ll come pick it up personally. Three days from now at 3:00 PM, same as last time.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

After hanging up, Shen Zhiyi remained in the same position, her cheeks burning hot. Lu Wanheng’s soft laugh and the phrase “the work is more important than the time” echoed repeatedly in her ears. She walked to the mirror and looked at her reddened earlobes, unable to stop herself from lightly patting her cheeks to force herself to calm down. But the fluttering in her heart was like a stone thrown into a lake; the ripples spread outward, unable to settle for a long time.

She sat back down at the drawing desk, her brushstrokes becoming even more determined. When detailing the eyes, she specifically preserved the stillness in Lu Wanheng’s gaze, while adding a speck of warm light deep within the pupils. She locked all that softness hidden beneath the cold exterior into the painting. The person on the canvas gradually became vivid—no longer a cold portrait, but a Lu Wanheng with temperature, emotion, and a story, perfectly matching the woman who stood in the thick fog and was moved by a painting.

At eleven o’clock at night, the alleys of the Old Town District were completely silent. Only Shen Zhiyi’s studio still glowed with warm light. She made a cup of hot milk and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the thick fog outside. She took out her phone and clicked on Lu Wanheng’s Moments. The permissions were set to only show the last three days, and the content was empty—no photos, no text, no shares. Just like the woman herself: cool, detached, and leaving no trace.

She didn’t have the right to pry further, but she was content. At least for now, they had an intersection through this custom commission and direct communication. They were no longer strangers who had shared a brief glance in a foggy alley.

Shen Zhiyi put down the milk cup and picked up her brush again, pushing through the details of the painting through the night. The texture of the hair, the folds of the suit, the curve of the fingertips—every part was refined to perfection. She wanted to give Lu Wanheng her best work. She wanted to honor this rare trust, and even more, she wanted that cold woman to feel the warmth in the painting once again the moment she saw the finished product.

At the same time, Lu Wanheng’s car pulled into the garage of her penthouse apartment.

She pushed open the car door, and the sea breeze wrapped in fog hit her face, dispelling the fatigue of the day. Entering the foyer, she took off her suit jacket and hung it on the rack. She took out her phone and opened the revised sketch Shen Zhiyi had sent. She zoomed in to look closely at the layers of fog in the background and the shadows on the shoulder line. Her fingertip lightly brushed the screen, and a hint of softness appeared in her eyes.

The assistants who had followed her for years never dared to offer revision suggestions casually, and the senior designers she had worked with for years struggled to accurately capture the atmosphere she wanted. Yet this young illustrator, whom she had only met once, had perfectly recreated the sense of fog she desired based on a single reference photo. It had even exceeded her expectations.

Lu Wanheng walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and pushed it open slightly. The fog flowed in—the breath of the same sea that filled the studio. She thought of Shen Zhiyi’s flustered appearance, the reddened corners of her eyes, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt, and the clean, agile strokes of her brush. The hard shell around her heart was once again gently nudged.

Her last relationship had started with artistic resonance and ended with family power. Since then, she had built high walls against art and same-sex emotions. But Shen Zhiyi’s painting was like a gentle key. It didn’t try to force the lock; it simply soaked in slowly, making her willing to let down her guard, willing to communicate actively, and willing to personally go to that old attic studio to collect a portrait that belonged to her.

Lu Wanheng put away her phone, walked into the study, opened a drawer, and took out a blank picture frame. The size was exactly 40 by 60 cm, a perfect fit for Shen Zhiyi’s canvas. She didn’t usually have the habit of framing artwork; there were no decorative paintings in her office or apartment. But at this moment, she wanted to hang this portrait in the most prominent place in her study, so she could see that piece of Wugang fog and the brushstrokes of the artist hidden within it every day.

The three-day deadline flew by as Shen Zhiyi worked day and night.

She didn’t literally stay up every single second, but she poured all her time into the painting. She turned down two low-priced commercial illustration commissions to focus on polishing this portrait. She even ignored the demanding messages sent by her younger brother. The Lu Wanheng on the canvas became more and more complete. Her cold temperament and gentle undertones merged perfectly. The Wugang skyline in the background was hazy and poetic. The entire painting possessed both realistic precision and artistic romance, forming a perfect echo with the old pier painting.

At two o’clock in the afternoon on the final day, Shen Zhiyi finished the last highlight. The paint was completely dry, and the entire work was brought to a successful conclusion.

She stood before the easel, took three steps back, and scrutinized the finished product repeatedly. After confirming there were no flaws, she took a clean cotton cloth and lightly wiped away the traces of paint from the edges of the canvas. She placed the easel in the most prominent spot in the studio, facing the wooden door, so Lu Wanheng would see it the moment she entered.

She changed into a clean shirt, combed her long hair neatly, and cleaned the studio once more. The drawing desk was spotless. she brewed a cup of warm lemon water and placed it by the folding chair for guests. Everything was prepared, waiting only for that cool figure to appear at the studio door again.

At 2:50 PM, the familiar sound of a car engine came from downstairs.

Shen Zhiyi’s heart rate instantly accelerated. She walked to the window and saw the black sedan parked at the mouth of the alley. Lu Wanheng pushed open the door, wearing a dark gray suit. She looked a bit softer than their first meeting. She didn’t use an umbrella, allowing the fine mist to settle on her shoulders as she walked toward the attic stairs step by step.

At 3:00 PM sharp, the knock on the door sounded right on time.

Shen Zhiyi took a deep breath and pulled open the wooden door. She met Lu Wanheng’s calm eyes and spoke softly, her voice carrying an irrepressible sense of anticipation:

“Miss Lu, it’s finished.”

The thick fog flowed slowly through the alley. Warm light spilled out from the studio, falling on Lu Wanheng’s shoulders. The portrait on the canvas and the real person faced each other from a distance. The warmth beneath the brush passed through the fog and reached straight into both of their hearts.

This connection born of a painting began to grow a secret warmth within the damp cold of Wugang. Shen Zhiyi did not know that this warmth would, in the days to come, burn into a fire that would scorch them both, eventually leaving behind only a ground full of lingering heat that would never dissipate.

Banxia Novel, so much happiness