The gallery was located in the Blue Creative Park, a three-story building.
Top floor: staff offices.
First floor: exhibition hall.
Second floor: meeting rooms and café.
It seemed ordinary, but the gallery had a steady monthly turnover and some recognition in the art world.
When Wen Ran and Luo Xiao arrived with the new painting, Lily, a manager, was on the first floor swapping out exhibits. Seeing Wen Ran carrying the painting, she was pleasantly surprised.
“A new piece?”
Wen Ran nodded, covering the painting with a cloth.
Lily eagerly approached, glanced at the painting, then at Luo Xiao. “Did you bring a friend?”
“Upstairs,” Wen Ran said. “I’ll make you coffee.”
She took the painting from Wen Ran, secretly thrilled: “Wow, this is so different from your previous work!”
Wen Ran smiled: “I’ve started painting again—been feeling inspired lately.”
“Really?” Lily exclaimed, glancing at Luo Xiao.
“Oh,” Wen Ran said, introducing them. “Luo Xiao, this is Lily, the gallery manager—my agent. She handles my artwork sales.”
“Lily, this is my husband.”
“We got married.”
“Ah?”
“Married!?” Lily almost shouted.
She stared at Wen Ran, then at Luo Xiao. “You… weren’t you single?”
Two weeks ago, when they last contacted each other…
Wen Ran smiled shyly. “It was a quick marriage. We just met, and got the certificate a few days ago.”
“Quick marriage!?” Lily’s voice cracked.
Others in the gallery looked on, surprised. Quick marriage? Wen Ran?
Luo Xiao nodded politely: “Hello.”
Lily stammered: “Y-you too?”
Truly unexpected.
“Let’s go upstairs to chat,” Wen Ran suggested.
Lily followed, while Luo Xiao, seeing no need to linger in the meeting room, whispered: “Do you want to go downstairs to look at the paintings?”
“Go ahead, you two chat.”
Luo Xiao and Lily nodded slightly and headed downstairs.
Lily watched Luo Xiao’s back: Wow… he’s massive, full of masculinity… no wonder Wen Ran likes this type.
No wonder the owner couldn’t win Wen Ran over.
She almost blurted out, “Why did you pick someone like this…”
Quickly corrected herself: “I mean… what inspired your latest work?”
Wen Ran grinned: “Because of love!”
Lily teased: “So this is art inspired by romance?”
Wen Ran shrugged. “Then you didn’t need a quick marriage either.”
“I like him,” Wen Ran said.
Lily raised an eyebrow. “And your mom…”
Wen Ran, relaxed and cheerful: “Don’t worry. She’s on board. Not only that, she even recently took Luo Xiao’s parents out traveling. Both families get along really well.”
Lily, ever curious: “His family situation… your mom agreed right away?”
Wen Ran shook his head: “That has nothing to do with it. You know I hadn’t been painting much, always messing around with friends. My mom worried and wanted me to settle down. I told her I wanted to marry him—of course she’d support me.”
Satisfied, Lily returned to the topic of art: “Your work this time really is different from before…”
Downstairs, the gallery staff were adjusting the exhibits. Luo Xiao didn’t disturb them, strolling around. With his background in art from school, he wasn’t completely ignorant about paintings and styles.
A steady male voice spoke behind him: “This is a rendition of Kandinsky’s Composition VIII. Its color and structure may seem modern, but it’s from 1923. A combination of geometry and color.”
Luo Xiao turned. The staff had left, leaving a tall, slim man in a suit with gold-rimmed glasses approaching.
The moment their eyes met, a subtle tension flared—two strong male presences sensing each other.
Luo Xiao realized: Wen Ran is young, beautiful, vibrant… surely over the years, she’s had men who admired, pursued, and protected her. And here’s one.
The man said, “I’m surprised,” extending his hand. “I’m Zhou Lanjing, the gallery owner… you could say I’m half her manager.”
“Luo Xiao,” he added.
Luo Xiao shook his hand, casual, the grip brief.
Both looked at the painting. Zhou continued: “Not in this field, right? Have you studied art?”
Luo Xiao caught the dismissive undertone—implying not only a lack of artistic taste but also ignorance about Wen Ran herself: You don’t understand her; you won’t last.
Unfazed, Luo Xiao replied: “Composition VIII nearly encompasses Kandinsky’s principles. Yet some people think they know someone’s entire life.”
Zhou calmly countered: “You don’t need to know everything. The style alone reflects the artist’s character. Life may not be consistent, but a clear personal style remains. I know Wen Ran well enough.”
Luo Xiao smirked: “Sorry, I beat you to it.”
Zhou didn’t mince words: “Wen Ran’s thoughts are unpredictable. Are you sure she won’t suddenly announce a divorce to reclaim her freedom?”
Their gazes locked, tension thick.
Luo Xiao: “Clearly, we have different views on marital freedom.”
Zhou: “Clearly, some always think their marriage is special.”
He nodded slightly. “Feel free to browse. I’ll check on Wen Ran and discuss her new piece.”
As Zhou turned, Luo Xiao calmly asked: “Your gallery’s monthly revenue? Three million? Five? Ten?”
“Since Wen Ran’s painting again, she doesn’t have to be tied to this gallery. I’m thinking of setting up a personal studio for her. She’d develop better—don’t you agree?”
Zhou paused, tilted his head, said nothing, and left.
Luo Xiao snorted internally: What a so-called boss, daring to challenge a legitimate husband.
He abandoned the paintings altogether, thinking, Art, gallery… eyesore.
Outside, he called a friend in the art world for advice on setting up a gallery or personal studio.
Soon, Wen Ran bounced out, visibly cheerful. “This one’s good! Lily and Zhou said it could sell for 150,000. After their cut, I’d get 80,000. Not bad, right?”
Luo Xiao lowered his phone, hugging her: “Just 80,000 makes you this happy?”
“Of course!” Wen Ran said. “Art’s tough. I don’t have fame yet, so selling even a little is great. 150,000 is a lot.”
She tiptoed to kiss him: “Thanks to you. Without you, I wouldn’t have this inspiration.”
Walking to the car, Luo Xiao said: “We’ll set up a personal studio. I know people who can help. Family has money; we can manage her works and fame properly.”
Wen Ran blinked: “I hadn’t thought of that… but sounds exciting!”
“Not urgent. First, our marriage, then Xinjiang. After we return, you paint, and we’ll see.”
On the drive, they naturally discussed art and the gallery.
Luo Xiao: “How long have you worked with this gallery?”
Wen Ran explained: In college, she spent two weeks copying a classic painting that got collected by a museum. Lily contacted her then to sell it—around 100,000–200,000. Later, Lily moved to this gallery; Wen Ran met Zhou and continued collaborating, selling two or three pieces a year.
Luo Xiao: “You familiar with Zhou?”
Wen Ran: “Not really. Oh, he pursued me once, confessed—but I refused.”
Luo Xiao laughed: “You know what he said to me downstairs just now?”
Wen Ran, surprised—he had been upstairs alone with Zhou, unaware of their encounter: “What did he say?”
Luo Xiao exaggerated: “He said you’d divorce me tomorrow…”
Wen Ran grabbed her phone immediately, sending Zhou a voice message:
“Zhou! You’re kidding, right? I chased my husband for days before winning him! What good does ruining my marriage do you? Return my paintings—I’m selling elsewhere!”
Zhou tried to explain. Wen Ran put the phone on speaker toward Luo Xiao: “Say something!”
Luo Xiao launched into playful tirade: “He said I don’t understand art, don’t understand you, only after your talent and mansion… said I’m a fortune hunter…”
Zhou: ???
Wen Ran, furious: “I treated you as my boss, respected you, and you do this? Turn the car around! Paintings back! I’m leaving your gallery!”
Luo Xiao whistled internally: Divorce first? Let’s fire this ‘boss’ first.
At the gallery, they tried to persuade her: “Wen Ran, without reputation and professional management, selling is hard.”
Luo Xiao ignored them, holding her and the paintings, walking out without looking back.