Almighty painter

Chapter 514: A Glimpse of the Century

"A few years ago, there was a famine and then the plague in Weihaiwei. Thousands of people were killed or injured. At that time, Mr. Eli was the manager of a foreign company in Jiaozhou. Seeing that it was so miserable, he ordered people to distribute alcohol and disinfectants in the warehouse for free. To an ordinary local, he was reprimanded by the King of Shanghai for "unnecessarily wasting the property of a foreign company." He really couldn't stand this atmosphere, so he asked the other person why he could treat him like this after only a few decades of wealth. Indifferent to life? So you resigned in anger."

"besides……"

Under the teacher's somewhat stern gaze.

Cao Xuan finally cried completely. As soon as the tears fell, he simply let go and spent the past few days attending various cocktail parties and overhearing adults chatting and gossiping at the dinner table.

All the grievances were told one by one.

Unexpectedly, Cao Xuan was as quiet as a gourd, but he still liked to hear gossip.

When adults talk, they don't pay much attention to avoiding such older children.

He listened carefully to all kinds of urban legend-like gossip floating in the upper-class social circles of Shanghai.

"Before you let your own arrogance and temper take over? Have you ever thought about it, are you sure that everyone who buys your paintings these days is not a bad person?"

It’s not just because Anna is good at chatting.

In a short interview, he and Miss Irina became close friends, just like Koko Neng, who dares to love and hate, and Katsuko Sakai, who dares to love and hate, in a tennis match. Within a period of time, we can reconcile with each other and appreciate each other.

Feeling scared and aggrieved.

Tears fell on his clothes drop by drop.

"Xiao Xuan, you have been very smart since you were a child, but you have to be rare to be confused. If you don't want to be smart, you will be enlightened by wisdom. Who can really live a pure and pure life. Such a life only exists in story books and novels."

Cao Xuan lowered his head little by little.

All kinds of uncomfortable feelings were intertwined in the bottom of his heart. Under the "I'm going to be okay", suddenly, the little boy Cao Xuan's heart became angry.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, his courage leaked.

Many friends say that among Master Cao Xuan's disciples, only Tang Ning, a closed-door female disciple who dared to talk back to him during lectures, had the most similar personality to Cao Xuan when he was a child.

I was originally frightened today.

"Xiaoxuan, do you really think so?"

"Even I painted a portrait of Emperor Guangxu in my early years. Which of these people can really be called a good person? The painting world is noble, and how noble can it be? It is inevitable to bow your head."

He feels that today’s teachers are completely different from those in the past——

It was because of his strong temper that he refused to lower his head.

The one who was in a hurry shouted out.

When Cao Xuan was a child, he looked like a little monk, but he was never as soft-tempered as the clay Bodhisattva.

"Such rules are too childish."

When Cao Xuan just said those words, he became more stubborn and his anger surged beyond his head, allowing himself to be supported by a surge of anger in his heart.

The teacher gave a stern lesson: "In this world of mortals, who really has some choice sometimes? You must learn to go with the flow in your life, otherwise it will be difficult for you to move forward. How can you take on great responsibilities when you are at a very high place?”

"If you don't know, you can ignore it. If this is a principle of human conduct, it is better not to have such a principle at all! A principle is a clear and clear bottom line that cannot be retreated. Such a vague principle is no longer a principle." The old painter was taught by his apprentice The explanation made me happy.

As soon as the bloodline suppression in the master-disciple niche came up, Cao Xuan felt a little timid.

So stern, so realistic in his words, so cold.

The old master asked teasingly: "Mr. Yu Shuyan is very kind to you and very arrogant, right? When he came to Shanghai, he even refused to sing for Du Yuesheng. But at that time, he was not much older than you. He once sang for the Empress Dowager Cixi."

"I will do it if I don't know the consequences. I will still do it if I know the consequences. I don't care whether I can take on big responsibilities or not. This is my principle." Cao Xuan shouted stubbornly.

Being looked at so seriously by the teacher.

It is also the favorite of Mr. Cao.

"It's rare to be confused, that's what you said."

"Otherwise my thoughts won't make sense. Little--my thoughts won't go well."

"I don't know... are all the people who come to buy paintings a bad person? I don't know..." Cao Xuan shook his head, "I don't know, so I can paint happily. , everything goes smoothly, no matter what is there or not.”

The painter stared at his apprentice for several seconds. Cao Xuan, with his deep eyes, could not understand.

Two or three sparrows on the telephone pole were startled by his voice and flew away.

But the two of them are quite similar in character, and Cao Xuan is actually quite "hard" at heart.

"But I know that the King of Shanghai is definitely not a good person. I know that he sells opium. I know that he does not take the lives of Chinese people as his life. So no matter how powerful he is, no matter how high his remuneration is, no matter how much he is under the spell of magic No matter how much wealth and energy there is in this world, I don’t want to paint it for him.”

Cao Xuan suddenly raised his head and looked directly into the teacher's eyes.

He raised his eyes slightly.

At that moment, Cao Xuan really thought the teacher had slapped him.

The teacher suddenly raised his hand.

"Is there any difference between this and burying your head in the sand like an ostrich?"

Cao Xuan shouted so angrily that the teacher was stunned.

He closed his eyes out of fear, but a large, thick envelope fell into his arms.

On the way back, I was scolded and criticized indiscriminately by the teacher.

Then he opened his eyes wide and froze.

It turned out to be a wallet full of fiat currency.

"Since you don't feel there is anything wrong, then why are you apologizing?"

The teacher smiled.

The painter and the master pulling the cart in front gave a few instructions, turned to Cao Xuan and said, "Let's go, before getting on the train, go to Wenmingzhai first, buy the musical instruments you want, and then go to the train station. There is enough time." "

Cao Xuan was stunned.

I was a little confused, but immediately felt overjoyed.

When recording a podcast in Klimt's former residence, Cao Xuan told Miss Anna that in his entire life, from childhood to adulthood, he had never suffered from poverty as an unknown painter.

These words.

Versailles is really not there.

Mr. Cao's living conditions in that era were definitely not comparable to those of Miss Irina, who was once one of the top five richest people in Austria. Compared with the Irina family, the Shanghai King is weaker by more than one level in terms of social status.

But in the early twentieth century, it was pretty good.

Western learning spread eastward.

Many new ideas and cultures, led by Britain and Germany in the West and Japan in the East, were introduced into the country. For example, in the late Meiji Restoration and the era of Emperor Taisho, the Japanese Chinese class had a model concept for cultivating their children—"Taisho upbringingism."

That is to say, the best Western learning and the best Eastern learning are mixed with each other at a ratio of 1:1 in the process of children's education, so as to become a master of Chinese and Western education.

As for the Western part, it pays attention to the balance of virtuality and reality, including the "virtual" side of reading overseas literature and listening to Western music, and the "realistic" side of studying physics, chemistry, and social sciences.

Growing up, I grew up in a cultural environment surrounded by top intellectuals, and there were many students who had returned from studying abroad.

Even in the early twentieth century, Cao Xuan still had many opportunities to come into contact with Western culture.

Sometimes, it is too common in life.

On the contrary, a rebellious mentality will arise.

Cao Xuan didn't like drama when he was a child. Instead, he was obsessed with the "jazz" that was popular around the world with New York as its base at that time. He listened to a Billy Eckstine saxophone album that was given to him over and over again.

Playing it over and over again has almost worn away the texture on the record.

In addition to the instruments brought by the musicians of the resident bands in high-end places such as Paramount and Shanghai Restaurant.

In the entire southern region of Eastern Xia, at that time, only the time-honored musical instrument store "Wenming Zhai" in Shanghai sold such fashionable niche musical instruments.

Among them, the treasure of the store is a "Salma" sterling silver saxophone produced in Paris, France, which has participated in the Brussels Musical Instruments Exhibition. It sells for 1700 yuan.

A second-grade brass and silver-plated saxophone, which comes with a box of reed reeds, sells for 650 French currency.

Cao Xuan was fascinated at first sight.

The old painter turned his hands behind his back and thought that the saxophone, when played, was the same as the suona played during funerals, but the price of one could almost buy half a small house. You can buy it in an antique shop. The official kilns were sold out of the Qing palace.

I really don't understand.

He didn't buy it for Cao Xuan.

However, the old painter never scrimped on the expenses of his disciples.

It was agreed that every time he painted in front of Xin'an Department Store, he would give Cao Xuan twenty yuan of pocket money. If he could paint for a full month, during this time, this adult would give him some money to go to the temple fair, and that adult would give him some money to buy osmanthus cakes. money.

That's enough to buy a brass saxophone.

Today is such an outgrowth.

Cao Xuan thought that this was a dirty deal. The teacher was training him, but suddenly he was rewarded with such a large amount of money.

This amazing turn of events was something Cao Xuan never expected.

"Teacher, are you not angry with me anymore?"

"Well, you've got your wish, why don't you call me Young Master again?" The old gentleman rolled his eyes at Cao Xuan.

Cao Xuan shrank his arms, knowing that when he just muttered, the teacher heard that he almost blurted out "Young master, I don't have a good mood".

"Don't hang out with your third senior brother from now on. He used to be a dandy who only cares about caged birds -" the old gentleman patted his apprentice on the shoulder and disciplined him.

The wheels of the rickshaw roll through the streets where sewage flows.

Blood-red sludge was stuck on the ground, as if it was blood flowing horizontally.

The old painter looked at the posters posted on the telephone poles.

The poster is a propaganda picture of the patriotic health campaign.

It was torn in half. It depicts a slim woman with the face of a devil, and the eye-catching text - "The bane of syphilis! Pay attention to hygiene and keep fit, and you are a good citizen..."

The old man shook his head, took out a handkerchief from his arms and put it on his nose, and then took out another handkerchief and put it on Cao Xuan's nose to block out the foul and greasy smell.

I just had a bad relationship with the King of Shanghai.

They didn't take the car they borrowed from the Xu Mansion, but instead ordered a rickshaw.

Drive lightly and follow simple rules, and take secluded trails that are not easily noticeable.

Later, I changed to Wenmingzhai Musical Instruments Store on the way.

The rickshaw driver is very familiar with the cobweb-like lanes of Shanghai, having passed through various shanty towns and alleys in Shanghai.

The blooming flowers on Nanjing Road are the glorious side of this pearl of Asia. At this moment, the Qianmo trail is a shadow of prosperity.

The shabby slums and the splendid modern high-rise buildings face each other across the Huangpu River. The residences of loving gentlemen and wives, laborers, porters, and refugees fleeing from famine are only separated by the length of the river.

But it cuts out two completely different lives.

Of course, no matter how chaotic the shantytowns of the poor are, there will certainly not be blood everywhere.

What the wheels pressed under me was not blood.

But there is a drainage channel of a steel plant next to this place.

When there is a lot of rain, the wastewater discharged from the steel plant will flow back from the sewer to the ground here due to clogged pipes.

Because sewage contains iron oxide.

So it's the same color as blood.

In addition to the damp musty smell in the air, there is also the pungent rusty smell of chemicals.

"Sir, one dollar, I only have one dollar. I can keep you until tomorrow morning. I can make you happy -" Suddenly, a woman came out from the corner.

"Come and sit here with me."

The porter pulling the cart couldn't stop his legs in time, cursed in a low voice, and the two of them bumped into each other.

There was a soft bang.

The rickshaw shook slightly, and the woman fell to the ground.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to bump into you. Come and sit here for a while -" The woman opposite was obviously the type who was used to being bullied.

After being knocked down.

Before the coachman could say anything, she apologized and stood up from the ground leaning against the wall. She wiped the mud on her clothes with her hands and forced a smile on her face.

Look at appearance.

She is a petite woman, not from Eastern Xia, but an old dancer from Eastern Europe.

The capital of the Republic of China was a trade hub in East Asia, and its customs industry was also very international.

Russians, French, fleeing Jews...

All kinds of girls are common in dance halls.

exactly.

The word girl is probably inappropriate.

The woman's face was covered with a thick layer of fragrant powder.

But the pale powder, which looked like dry flour, was completely unable to cover up her aging.

The old painter could clearly see that there were crow's feet extending like spider webs on the sides of her eyes and at the corners of her mouth.

Some of the messy hair had begun to turn gray.

In appearance.

This woman who wants to attract customers may already be older than the mother of her apprentice Cao Xuan.

Forty-five, or fifty?

Maybe the other person's real age may be younger than the old painter estimated.

A life of suffering and hardship can always prematurely mature a person's age.

The chronic disease of poverty has no nationality or age.

The wife of the King of Shanghai is almost sixty this year, but she is still a lady praised by everyone in the social circle. There are lengthy reports in newspapers about what kind of trendy dress she wore at the cocktail party in the morning, and her meeting with the mayor in the evening. What pieces of jewelry were used at the banquet?

He is always in the spotlight, leading the fashion trends in Shanghai.

The thirty-year-old female worker and peasant woman already looked like a sixty-year-old old woman, her hands and feet were so rough that she couldn't see.

In addition to the vicissitudes of life, the most obvious feeling a woman gives to the elderly is thinness.

The whole person was skinny and deflated, with a matchstick-like neck pressing against his head, and a pair of slender bow legs like a heron under the exposed skirt.

Due to long-term hunger and skin diseases, the skin on my legs was a bit swollen, and there were patches of small pustules.

During the Republic of China, brothels and Chu houses in the capital were very developed.

In addition to Western dance halls such as Paramount and Xianle Palace, there are also different styles of play such as Qingyin Xiaoban, Qinhuai Shengge, and Pearl Curtain Ten Miles.

Official brothel.

The highest level is called Changsantangzi, the next-level one is called Shuyu, and the third-level one is called Yaoertangzi.

"Tangzi" is the common name for brothel in Shanghai dialect.

But no matter which genre it is, such a wandering warbler standing on the street is the most unpopular.

In fact, during the Republic of China, the bad habits of the old society were still there, and it was not unpopular for literati and officials to visit brothels.

in contrast.

Famous actresses sing softly, beauties add fragrance to their red sleeves, and visiting Changsantangzi is a very "elegant" thing.

The famous reform thinker, Mr. Yan Fu of Fudan Public School, loved to stroll and drink wine when he was on business in Tianjin. In his diary in early September 1907 alone, he left three records of expenses. Record.

The prostitute also found that the old painter was staring at her.

She immediately put her hands on her hips and smiled as charmingly as possible.

To be fair.

The other party failed miserably.

She may have tried very hard, but the old man really couldn't think of any words related to desire in the other person. He could only let people see the bitterness of life at a glance.

The old man even saw a little girl with eyebrows and eyes that were somewhat similar to hers at the far corner, next to the telephone pole where the woman ducked out, and she was also looking over here.

The poor people in the shantytowns here cannot afford to rent big houses.

Therefore, some prostitutes with half-open doors have no choice but to kick their families out when they receive customers.

The old man doesn’t know——

It was when the mother went to the street to pick up customers, and her children stood next to her.

The skinny child actually had a "charming" smile similar to that on his mother's face.

Which of the two made him feel more depressed and despaired of this world where people were miserable.

He closed his eyes in great pain.

The old dancer must have realized that because the master and apprentice were dressed incompatibly with this prostitute street, they should not be florists who came to this stinking ditch-like prostitute street to have fun.

But she was still a little unwilling to give up, and came closer with a charming smile, wanting to fight for it again.

"gentlemen--"

The old painter only felt a mixed smell of sweet, fishy and smelly coming.

He thought about the half-torn sanitation campaign poster posted on the telephone pole and felt sick with thought.

The old man waved his hand to signal the prostitute to leave, and asked the driver to pull the rickshaw and quickly get out of the street.

But the hand that was like a chicken claw and stretched out to reach the corner of his robe was held by a small hand.

Cao Xuan stared blankly at the old woman in front of him, with an unexplainable expression on his face.

Before this day, Cao Xuan's life had been floating in the clouds.

His family has long been in decline, but his teacher's family is full of famous scholars and has no idle contacts. Even though the Yuantong Zen Temple where I stayed overnight was actually a famous temple in Suzhou, I couldn't say it was a poor place.

The people I usually see are either famous literary figures or the four great princes of the Republic of China like Zhang Yizu.

The teacher did not cultivate him into a person who does not understand the fireworks of the world. Of course he understands what suffering is, but the impression of suffering on Cao Xuan is just the numbers in the newspaper and the sighs of the elders at the dinner table.

At most, it is just a quick glance through the train window, looking at the fleeing people on the road in the distance, through the glass.

He doesn't know what a prostitute is yet.

I only vaguely knew that it was a "not so good" place in the eyes of adults. It was one of the "crow (opium), bird (mahjong), and bustard (prostitute), the three birds that harm people" reported in the newspaper.

But when the old woman stood beside him.

The wrinkles on the face, the unkempt white hair on the forehead, the sores on the skin, and the sweet smell like blood rushes to the face.

This was the first time that worldly suffering was exposed in front of his eyes, naked, straightforward, without any cover-up or beautification.

Cao Xuan was stunned.

"Does it hurt?"

Cao Xuan pointed at the acne on the woman's arm and asked blankly.

"Little Master, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt." The prostitute shrank back.

next second.

No one knows why Cao Xuan made such a move.

It makes no sense, has no logic, and makes no sense.

That may just be the simplest and most primitive empathy.

"painful."

Cao Xuan opened his arms and suddenly hugged the old prostitute opposite him who was old enough to be his mother.

The driver was stunned.

The woman who kept shrinking back and trying to cover the scars with her sleeves was stunned.

The old painter who wanted to tell his apprentice to let go quickly and not to be entangled by him was also stunned.

Time stands still at this moment.

Only the old prostitute stood silently, like a ghost, as if she didn't belong to this world and no one could see her. Gu Weijing was watching all this.

He and Cao Xuan's eyes crossed the woman's shoulders and fell together.

It was like two young people looking at each other from a distance across nearly a century.

(End of this chapter)