"Getting a free ticket worth 30 yuan, I actually feel like I've made a profit." Wei Dong realized he had fallen into the trap of art promotion and couldn't extricate himself—clearly exhibiting early symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome.
The ticket design was simple, more like a ready-made greeting card, except it was stamped with "Benxin Art Museum" and a date stamp.
Qin Ci looked at the art museum, which was getting busier as the night went on. It was the weekend, and there were twice as many visitors as usual.
Ke Xun had already reached the entrance, tilting his head to look at his companions behind him, as if to say: Come on, let's go in and practice a bit?
Zhu Haowen was infected by Ke Xun's smile, which unconsciously appeared on his face—he couldn't say how many times he had smiled like this, his lips uncontrollably curving upwards. Before meeting Ke Xun, this was something that had never happened before.
Zhu Haowen cleared his throat silently, put on his usual expressionless face, and followed Wei Dong into the art museum.
The museum's interior is decorated in the currently popular "minimalist" style: rough terrazzo walls, unadorned wooden tables and chairs, and exposed light bulbs hanging from the high ceiling, resembling a factory workshop from the 1980s. The "workshop" is decorated with withered vines reminiscent of a wild wilderness, signifying the existence of its artistic intent.
"So 'wabi-sabi'!" exclaimed a girl with long, flowing hair, embodying a forest-like aesthetic.
Wei Dong, gazing at the overly simple walls, muttered under his breath, "It's pretty bad (wabi-sabi)."
Zhu Haowen, hearing his companion's words, opened his mouth slightly but remained silent.
The forest-style girl's companion—a tall, slender boy in a fitted long shirt—adjusted his thin-rimmed, pale white glasses: "Simple and tranquil, with a touch of Zen."
Wei Dong walked past him, only then realizing with surprise that the "boy" was actually a girl. He then heard this "boyish girl" say, "I didn't expect so many avant-garde artworks."
Today's artworks were indeed very avant-garde.
The group stepped over a pile of twisted root carvings on the ground, only to find a label: "Artwork 'Connecting, Connecting,' Price: 12,000 RMB."
Ahead was another large pile of yarn balls, among which were several oddly shaped, glittering light bulbs, labeled: "Artwork 'Cat's Romance,' Price: 9,400 RMB."
This money is too easy to make. —Wei Dong didn't say this aloud; after all, in the territory of these avant-garde artists, it was best to be cautious.
Wei Dong couldn't help but pat Ke Xun on the shoulder: "It's a pity we didn't bring a few pieces. Every little bit helps; maybe we can even reimburse our travel expenses."
"I think we could nail a bunch of frames of all sizes together, like a perspective drawing," Ke Xun said, gazing at the various artworks in the gallery, his mind wandering.
"That would count as art, wouldn't it?" Ke Xun asked Mu Yiran beside him.
"Yes," Mu Yiran chuckled softly.
"I think the names of the artworks are crucial. What should we call all these picture frames?" Ke Xun glanced at a piece of leather displayed on the wall next to him, with two strange tattoo designs on it. The piece was called "Old Joys."
Ke Xun looked away from the uncomfortable artworks and was about to suggest to Mu Yiran that the artwork he had just conceived should be called "Encounter," but Zhu Haowen beat him to it: "Let's call it Nirvana."
"Nirvana what?" Wei Dong said, "I think it should be called 'Unlucky.'"
Qin Ci, who was walking behind, had already struck up a conversation with the two young women. The forest-style girl pointed to the exhibition hall around the corner: "That big room mainly displays paintings, it's worth a look." Qin Ci
thanked her and looked at the pale white light shining through the corner of the cement wall: "So the art exhibition is over there."
The group looked in that direction, their previously feigned relaxed mood sinking again. Another life-or-death journey was about to begin.
The exhibition hall displaying the paintings maintained its desolate and impoverished atmosphere, with various paintings hanging on the uneven cement walls. In the center was a long, narrow birch bark table, upon which sat a large, rough porcelain teapot and a tall stack of blue-rimmed rough porcelain bowls.
Although the guests were immersed in this desolate and impoverished style, most preferred disposable paper cups for their tea, leaving the strikingly styled rough porcelain bowls untouched.
The "group of six men" had no interest in drinking tea. Their frequent visits to and from the paintings had honed their sharp eyes, and now these six pairs of eyes cautiously and keenly scanned the paintings on the walls.
Although the "newbie," Luo Wei, was the least experienced, his gaze was the most piercing.
The room was filled with paintings, including a colored pencil drawing. The childlike strokes depicted a woman in a wedding dress, with the inscription beside it: "Xiao Qinxian, painted at age 7, 2002."
"This is priced at 600 yuan?" Wei Dong frowned, looking at it. "I painted much better when I was seven."
A girl with a mushroom haircut next to him gave Wei Dong a cold look, her stubbornly protruding chin turning away.
Wei Dong shrugged and followed his companions to where the crowd was.
There weren't many people in the studio, but six or seven people were gathered in front of a painting, discussing it animatedly.
The painting was very large, almost as tall as a person, and didn't look like an oil painting; it looked more like a watercolor.
The colors were very simple, with only shades of red on a white background, forming an abstract pattern with washes, texture strokes, and messy lines.
"Is this a large pink leaf?" The girl with the forest-themed look spoke.
"I think it looks like a cross-section of a building," a curly-haired young man next to him analyzed.
None of the "group of six men" said a word, but they all stopped in their tracks, as if a unified sixth sense had formed, extending to define the area.
The aloof mushroom-headed girl spoke up, "I think it looks like a bloodied entrails."
And it did look somewhat like that.
The "boyish girl" added, "Maybe it's a beating heart."
Wei Dong tilted his head, looking at the painting. He felt these people were exaggerating; the image was too abstract. Calling it a cold, rubber hot water bottle wouldn't be far off.
The label below the painting read: "Crimson Beast," Not for Sale, Artist: Yu Beiguo.
Perhaps it was the eye-catching "Not for Sale" that made people linger.
The exhibition hall became more crowded. Three or four elderly guests strolled in, well-dressed, looking like veteran artists.
The six members exchanged a slightly pitying glance, even considering advising them to leave.
Fortunately, they only stayed briefly before leaving again.
Several students entered. Mu Yiran glanced at the time, realizing the art appreciation event was going to take a long time.
"What time is it?" Ke Xun asked beside him.
"It's been 47 minutes." Mu Yiran's answer was irrelevant, yet relevant.
Forty-seven minutes had passed since everyone entered the exhibition hall; guests came and went, wave after wave, but the room hadn't yet fallen into its usual darkness.
The few people guarding the painting remained motionless. Luo Wei couldn't help but pace back and forth in the exhibition hall—though no one wanted to be inside the painting, the wait was even more unbearable.
Luo Wei counted; there were currently 11 people in the hall, 2 short.
The rusty bronze hands of the wooden clock on the wall pointed to ten o'clock at night. The exhibition hall door opened again, and this time a man and a woman entered. The man was tall and robust, his features suggesting mixed race; the woman had long, unkempt hair and carried a large bouquet of flowers.
The lights went out.
Only the long-absent, pale light above the painting clearly illuminated the irregular red composition, making the title on the label even more striking: Crimson Beast.
This pattern, resembling a leaf, viscera, and even a cross-section of a building, suddenly seemed to have an explanation—it was a beast—an irregularly shaped beast, its face and claws indistinct.
What would the world of beasts be like? Several veteran members who had experienced the 'Animal World' were reluctant to recall it.
After a period of suffocating darkness, they saw a world unlike any they had ever seen before.
Before them was clearly a city, a gray, stylish city with a cold rain falling.
Men and women walked the streets with black, red, or transparent umbrellas, their expressions indifferent, their clothes impeccable.
The thirteen people who had stopped by the roadside stood in the twilight rain. The fine, needle-like raindrops gently pricked their faces, seemingly reminding them that this was not a dream.
This was probably the most receptive team. After Qin Ci succinctly explained the matter of "entering the painting," a few surprises flashed in the eyes of the newcomers, but they quickly accepted this miraculous fact.
"So, where do we go next?" asked the curly-haired youth.
"An NPC will come to pick us up. If we don't wait for that person, we'll have to try to find clues ourselves," Qin Ci said.
"Let's all get to know each other," said the woman who had entered the exhibition hall last, carrying flowers. She had tied her messy long hair into a bun, pulled her bohemian-style coarse cloth dress up to keep herself warm, and then bowed to everyone. "I'm so sorry that an art exhibition has caused so much trouble. I'm Su Benxin."
Su Benxin is the owner of "Benxin Art Museum."
Everyone looked at the charming woman whose age was hard to guess and nodded slightly. No one would blame her for this "disaster."
Su Benxin pointed to the mixed-race man beside her: "This is Lion," and then gently apologized to Lion.
Lion smiled faintly: "Perhaps this will be an interesting trip."
Even though everyone tried to remain calm, they couldn't bring themselves to smile. Most people turned their attention to Mu Yiran, the "experienced person," who seemed the most convincing.
Mu Yiran gave a brief self-introduction, and several veteran members also simply gave their names.
Before the other new members could say anything, a man in a police uniform suddenly appeared on the street: "Please show your identification."
Just as the newcomers were about to try to take out their identification from their pockets, Mu Yiran smiled and said to the NPC: "Officer, we are new here."