The Remaining Warmth Of Fog Harbor Chapter 50

Relive the rest of your life

The charity art exhibition “Fog Harbor Without You” came to an end in the heavy fog of Fog Harbor. The month-long exhibition received tens of thousands of visitors.The papers and pens in the message area were changed batch after batch, and the dense writings covered the entire exhibition board. There were regrets, touches, encouragements, and countless people’s understanding and empathy for patients with depression.Lu Wanheng stood in the exhibition hall every day, watching the messages in silence, watching Shen Zhiyi’s paintings being seen and remembered by more and more people. He felt both comfort and indescribable emptiness in his heart.

On the closing day of the exhibition, the fog in Fog Harbor finally dissipated, and the sun penetrated the clouds and fell on the glass windows of the exhibition hall, reflecting a dazzling light.Wearing that light blue shirt, Lu Wanheng walked around every corner of the exhibition hall for the last time, his fingertips gently brushing against the frames of each painting.The studio in “First Encounter” is still bright, the sunset on the seaside in “Love” is still warm, the landscape in “Qingchuan” is still fresh, and the loneliness in “No Return” is still heavy.Every painting is a mark in Shen Zhiyi’s short life and a fragment of their love.

The person in charge of the Art Foundation has already been waiting at the exhibition hall. They are the organizations that Lu Wanheng specially contacted. They are committed to promoting the works of young artists and using part of the proceeds for charity.The person in charge looked at the paintings all over the wall, with eyes full of admiration and admiration: “Ms. Lu, Ms. Shen Zhiyi’s works are of great artistic value and have the power to touch people’s hearts. We will keep these paintings properly and hold regular exhibitions to let more people feel her talent and gentleness. We will also use all proceeds from the tours for relief projects for patients with depression, so as to live up to you and Ms. Shen.”

Lu Wanheng nodded, his voice so hoarse that he could barely hear it: “Thank you. She loved painting during her lifetime, and she hoped to be understood by more people. I feel relieved to leave these paintings to you.”

The staff began to carefully dismantle the painting, as gently as if they were caring for a fragile treasure.Lu Wanheng did not leave, but stood aside and watched quietly.She watched “Heng in the Mist” being taken down, and looked at the blurred self in the painting, as if she saw Shen Zhiyi’s concentration when he was sitting in front of the easel, sketching stroke by stroke; she watched the “Fog Harbor Without You” painting album being packaged, and looking at those condensed tones, she seemed to feelShen Zhiyi’s loneliness and despair when she was in Qingchuan; she looked at the drawings that had been discarded wantonly by Zhou Xi and were now carefully wrapped, and a bitter sense of relief filled her heart – Shen Zhiyi’s talent was finally treated tenderly by the world.

All the drawings have been packed into boxes, a total of twenty-seven boxes, piled in the center of the exhibition hall, like a heavy monument.The person in charge handed Lu Wanheng a donation agreement. She took the pen and signed her name without hesitation.The moment the pen tip crossed the paper, she seemed to hear Shen Zhiyi’s voice, saying softly: “Wanheng, thank you.”

“Zhiyi, this is the last thing I can do for you.” Lu Wanheng muttered in his heart, “Your paintings will live forever and help many people like you. You will never be forgotten.”

She didn’t take any painting with her, except for Shen Zhiyi’s last unfinished sketch – it was the drawing paper scattered around her when she collapsed on the beach. Only half of the coastline was painted on it. The sun penetrated the fog and sprinkled on the sea, but it stopped abruptly, like her life that suddenly stopped.Lu Wanheng carefully rolled up the sketch, put it into a special painting tube, and carried it with him.

There was also the couple’s bookmark, which she kept in her pocket. Her fingertips rubbed the smooth wooden surface, feeling the “S” and “L” engraved on it. It was the only physical testimony of their love.During the preparations for the exhibition, she made many copies of the couple’s bookmarks and placed them in the exhibition hall for visitors to collect for free. Now she has collected the remaining ones and plans to take them to Qingchuan and place them in front of Shen Zhiyi’s tombstone.

When leaving the exhibition hall, Lu Wanheng took one last look back.In the empty exhibition hall, only the sunshine and the lingering fragrance of daisies were left, as if Shen Zhiyi had never left.She gently closed the door and locked Wugang’s memories, love and pain in this pavilion.

She did not go back to the studio in the old city, but asked the landlord to help dispose of the things inside, leaving only the photo of them and the book “The Little Prince”. She asked the landlord to pass it to her aunt Lu Qinghe as her last thoughts for the Lu family.She doesn’t want to stay in Fog Harbor anymore. This city has too many memories of them. Every street and every sea breeze can easily bring back her pain.She is going to Qingchuan, to the small town where Shen Zhiyi lived, to guard her tombstone and their last remaining warmth.

Lu Wanheng took the unfinished sketch, the couple’s bookmarks, and Shen Zhiyi’s ashes, and boarded the car to Qingchuan. The car slowly left Wugang. The scenery outside the window receded little by little, like the time between them that could never be returned.Lu Wanheng leaned against the car window, looking at the sea level in the distance, holding the painting tube tightly in her hand, feeling calm in her heart – she was finally going to see Shen Zhiyi, in an eternal way.

Qingchuan is still the same as in memory, with beautiful mountains and clear waters and simple folk customs.When the train arrived, it was already evening, the sun was setting, and the golden afterglow shone on the mountains and rivers of Qingchuan, making it warm and peaceful.Lu Wanheng did not go to the cemetery by the sea first, but went directly to the B&B where Shen Zhiyi lived.

Mrs. Chen in the hut still remembered her. When she came back with simple luggage, her face was full of surprise and sympathy.”Girl, are you back?” The old lady sighed, “We have never touched Miss Shen’s room. It remains the same as when she left.”

The moment I opened the door, a familiar smell hit my face, mixed with paint, sunlight and a faint fragrance of flowers.The room is not big, with light-colored curtains hanging on the sunny window. The easel is still standing by the window, with a clean canvas on it. The desk is placed in front of the window, with several drawing papers stacked neatly on it. There are several brushes Shen Zhiyi often uses in the pen holder;On the small table, there is a small vase with a few dried wild flowers in it, which Shen Zhiyi picked during her lifetime. On the bookshelf in the corner, there are several art albums and a half-opened psychology book, which she used for self-healing.

Lu Wanheng put down his luggage and walked into the room slowly, his fingertips gently brushing against every item.She could imagine Shen Zhiyi living here: in the early morning, she would open the curtains, letting the sunlight fill the room, and then sit in front of the easel, painting the mountains and rivers outside the window; in the afternoon, she would sit at the desk, reading books, and occasionally looking up at the scenery outside the window; in the evening, she would go for a walk on the beach, blowing in the sea breeze, and pick a few wild flowers to put in a vase.

“Zhiyi, I’m here.” Lu Wanheng said softly to the empty room, with a thick nasal sound in his voice, “I’m here to accompany you, and I will never let you be alone again.”

In the days that followed, Lu Wanheng began to recreate Shen Zhiyi’s life.She got up on time at six o’clock every morning, opened the curtains, and watered the green plants on the window sill—the succulents planted by Shen Zhiyi during his lifetime. The old lady had been helping to take care of them, and they were growing vigorously.Then, she would sit in front of her easel, take out her paintbrush, copy Shen Zhiyi’s works, or paint the scenery outside the window.She learned from Shen Zhiyi’s brushstrokes and her tones, trying hard to make her paintings look the same as hers, as if in this way, she could feel her presence.

At ten o’clock in the morning, she would go to the painting supply store where Shen Zhiyi often went to buy painting paper and paint.The shop owner still remembered her, and when he saw her coming alone, his eyes were full of regret: “Are you Miss Shen’s friend? She used to come here often, and she bought a lot of watercolors every time, saying that the scenery in Qingchuan is suitable for using soft colors.” Lu Wanheng just nodded, bought the same painting materials as Shen Zhiyi, and turned to leave.

At noon, she would eat at a nearby restaurant and order light side dishes that Shen Zhiyi liked during his lifetime.The old lady always gave her more, her eyes filled with distress.Sometimes, the old lady would chat with her and talk about Shen Zhiyi’s life: “Miss Shen was a very quiet girl. Every time she finished painting, she would sit in the yard and bask in the sun. Sometimes she would stare into the distance in a daze, not knowing what she was thinking. She was in poor health and often coughed, but she never said it and always carried it by herself.” Lu Wanheng listened quietly, tears falling quietly. She wished that she could turn back time and let her stay with Shen Zhiyi, take care of her and protect her.

In the afternoon, she would take her painting tools to the beach to sketch, just like Shen Zhiyi did during his lifetime.She sat on the rock where Shen Zhiyi often sat, looking at the coastline in front of her, the sunlight shining on the sea, making the waves sparkle.She picked up the brush and sketched bit by bit, trying to complete Shen Zhiyi’s unfinished sketch.But every time she was halfway through the painting, tears would fall on the paper, blurring the ink, making it impossible for her to continue.She knew that some regrets could never be made up for.

In the evening, she would walk along the seaside trail, blowing in the sea breeze and watching the sunset.She would take out the couple’s bookmark, hold it in her hand, and feel the temperature on it, as if she was holding Shen Zhiyi’s hand.She would hum softly Shen Zhiyi’s favorite songs, recalling every bit of their relationship. The sweetness, sadness, and regrets all came to her mind one by one.

At night, she would return to her room, sit at her desk, and look through the albums and books left by Shen Zhiyi.She would carefully read Shen Zhiyi’s annotations in the book and feel her thoughts and insights; she would look through Shen Zhiyi’s sketchbook and look at the small paintings she had drawn casually, including shells on the seaside, wild flowers in the yard, an old couple in a B&B, and a vague figure, that was herself.

She placed Shen Zhiyi’s ashes on the small table beside the bed, next to the unfinished sketch and couple’s bookmarks.Every day before going to bed, she would whisper a few words to the urn, telling her what happened today and how much she missed her.She would fall asleep holding the thin blanket left by Shen Zhiyi, with a faint fragrance on it, making her feel as if she could feel Shen Zhiyi’s embrace.

Lu Wanheng just lived in Qingchuan, day after day, year after year.She no longer paid attention to the news in Wugang, no longer thought about the Lu family’s affairs, and completely closed herself in this small town where only she and Shen Zhiyi had memories.Her hair gradually grew longer, no longer as neat as before, but tied back casually; her face lost the sharpness of the past, and became a bit more calm and vicissitudes of life.

The landlord, Mrs. Chen, saw her haggard day by day and felt very distressed. She advised her to go out for a walk and make more friends, but she just shook her head: “I’m fine here. I have someone knowing to accompany me. I’m not alone.”

She would regularly go to Shen Zhiyi’s tombstone to clean it, replace it with fresh white chrysanthemums, and place replica couple’s bookmarks in front of the tombstone.She would sit in front of the tombstone and stay quietly all afternoon, talking about her thoughts, the changes in Qingchuan, and the things she had not had time to say to her.

“I know, the sea in Qingchuan is still so blue, the owner of the painting material store still remembers you, and the old couple at the B&B are still growing the succulents you like.”

“Zhiyi, I learned the song you like and sing it to you every day. Do you hear it?”

“Zhiyi, I copied all your paintings, but I still can’t paint the tenderness in your eyes, or the love you have for me.”

“Zhiyi, I miss you so much, I really miss you.”

The sea breeze blew by, carrying a salty breath, blowing the white chrysanthemums in front of the tombstone, as if it was Shen Zhiyi’s response.Lu Wanheng stretched out her hand and touched the inscription on the tombstone: “The remaining warmth of the foggy port, the night will last forever.” The cold touch came from her fingertips, and she couldn’t help crying.

She knew that she would spend the rest of her life in this small town guarding Shen Zhiyi’s tombstone and their memories.She would never fall in love with anyone else, never return to Wugang again, never mention anything about the Lu family again.In her world, only the sea in Qingchuan, Shen Zhiyi’s paintings, and the worn couple’s bookmark remained.

No matter how warm the wind in Wugang is, it can’t blow to the seaside of Qingchuan; no matter how warm the remaining temperature in Wugang is, it can’t warm her cold heart.She and Shen Zhiyi were still separated by yin and yang after all, but she would spend the rest of her life guarding this last thought until the end of her life.

Banxia novel, a lot of fun