Jiang Si turned around and saw a tall, poised middle-aged woman.
The woman was wearing a long black wool coat that reached her ankles, with a wide cashmere scarf and hat covering most of her face.
Yet, from her demeanor and posture, it was easy to tell she was likely involved in artistic work.
Accompanying her was a young woman with two shoulder-length braids, carrying a military-green canvas art portfolio.
Before Jiang Si could take a closer look, the two had already approached.
"You’ve been standing here for a while—do you know someone who works here?"
Jiang Si nodded and explained her purpose for visiting.
Upon hearing that she was looking for President Zhou regarding the New Year-themed mural project, the middle-aged woman seemed momentarily surprised.
Clearly, this news caught her off guard.
After a pause, she said, "I’ve been away on a business trip and just returned to the capital, so I’m not familiar with the situation you mentioned."
"President Zhou is probably out with the painting team right now."
"It’s hard to say whether he’ll be back by noon. We’re also about to leave, so we might not be able to host you."
"I’ll let President Zhou know when I see him. By the way, what’s your name?"
Since President Zhou wasn’t available, Jiang Si didn’t plan to stay long.
"My name is Jiang Si."
With a slight nod, Jiang Si turned and left with Huo Tingzhou.
Jiang Si?
Fang Wenjun froze for a moment. The name felt strangely familiar, as if she’d heard it somewhere before.
Before she could recall who this person was, the young woman beside her suddenly paled, her expression darkening.
"Master, that girl was recommended by President Zhou."
"If President Zhou ends up favoring his own connections, then… then didn’t I come all this way for nothing?"
"Why would you think that?" Fang Wenjun frowned.
Having worked with President Zhou for years, she knew his character well.
If that young woman didn’t have real talent, President Zhou would never have personally recommended her.
"Yashu, I already told you when you called last time."
"This is a rare opportunity, so naturally, many artists will be competing for it."
Qiu Yashu pursed her lips. Of course, she knew how valuable this chance was.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have traveled all the way back from Shaanxi Province.
But before arriving, she hadn’t known President Zhou had also recommended someone.
"Master, I understand what you’re saying. I’m just a little worried."
"There’s no need to worry. In painting, connections mean nothing—it all comes down to skill."
Though Qiu Yashu was her protégé, this mural wasn’t just about the reputation of the Capital Artists Association, but the entire art world.
There was no room for mistakes.
Fang Wenjun spoke bluntly, "If your work is outstanding, no one can take this opportunity from you."
"If it’s not, then you can only blame your own lack of ability."
"Enough overthinking. You’ve studied painting for years—your fundamentals are solid."
"The theme of this mural aligns with your university specialization, so it shouldn’t be a problem."
At this, Fang Wenjun sighed faintly.
"If you hadn’t broken your arm before the college entrance exams, you could’ve gotten into the Central Academy of Fine Arts with your skills."
"By the way, how have your three years at the Western Art Institute been?"
"Not bad, but the professional course instructor isn't very professional. Their painting skills are nowhere near yours, Master..."
"Enough, enough. Stop with the pointless flattery."
Fang Wenjun had no patience for such praise and cut her off immediately.
As the saying goes, a master leads the way, but the disciple must walk the path themselves.
At best, they could only serve as a stepping stone—the real progress depended on the individual.
After a moment of thought, Fang Wenjun suddenly said, "Later, you’ll paint something for me to see."
If there were any issues, she could still offer some guidance.
But Qiu Yashu’s eyes flickered at this. "Master, I’ve been on the train for a full day and night. My hands haven’t recovered yet. Maybe give me a couple of days?"
Fang Wenjun was about to say, That’s not acceptable.
If everyone needed two days to rest after two days of work, how could they possibly complete the project on time and to standard?
Just then, there was movement outside the door.
Fang Wenjun glanced down and saw that President Zhou and the others had returned.
Remembering her earlier promise to the young woman, Fang Wenjun immediately informed President Zhou about Jiang Si’s visit the moment he stepped into the office.
President Zhou’s face lit up with excitement—this might actually work out!
"Where are they now?"
"Already left."
"What? When did they leave?"
"Just now, maybe ten minutes ago."
"Ah, if only I’d come back a little earlier."
"Did she say anything? Mention when she’d return or call?"
"No, she only asked about the mural project."
Seeing President Zhou’s frustration, Fang Wenjun felt a little puzzled.
Wasn’t Comrade Jiang personally recommended by the president?
Why did it sound like the two of them weren’t familiar at all?
President Zhou thought, Well, you wouldn’t know about that.
He was just about to explain Jiang Si’s situation in detail when he noticed Qiu Yashu standing nearby.
"And this is...?"
"This is Qiu Yashu, a third-year student in the sketching department at Western Art University."
"She saw our recruitment notice for painters in the newspaper and wanted to give it a try."
Noticing that Fang Wenjun didn’t mention she was her master, introducing her instead in a strictly professional manner, Qiu Yashu couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
Still, she forced a smile.
"President Zhou, hello. You can just call me Yashu."
"Here’s my portfolio. Please take a look. I specialize in detailed character depictions, and my color composition and framing are also decent."
"If I’m fortunate enough to get this opportunity, I’ll give it my all. I promise I won’t let you—or Vice President Fang—down."
President Zhou flipped through the portfolio carefully.
To be fair, Comrade Qiu’s work was quite impressive.
But as he continued, his expression gradually grew more serious.
"Comrade Qiu, your work is indeed good. If you’re willing, you can try out for our small-scale mural team."
What?
Qiu Yashu thought she must have misheard. The small-scale mural team?
Her goal had always been one thing—the massive propaganda mural in the square.
Everyone knew that was where the crowds would gather on New Year’s Day!
All the major newspapers and even Beijing Television would be there for interviews.
This was her fastest, most effective chance—the closest she’d ever been to success.
To put it bluntly, even if she couldn’t participate in this project, there was no need to assign her to the small-scale mural group. Wasn’t that just insulting?
Fang Wenjun was equally surprised by this outcome.
President Zhou didn’t offer much explanation either. Instead, he handed the portfolio to Fang Wenjun.
"Take a look, and you’ll understand."
Fang Wenjun was puzzled at first, but after flipping through a few pages, she realized why President Zhou had assigned Qiu Yashu to the small-scale mural group.
However, Qiu Yashu couldn’t comprehend it. "President Zhou, if I recall correctly, your newspaper announcement explicitly stated that all artists would undergo a trial painting session upon arrival."
"That’s correct."
President Zhou had added this requirement precisely because he was concerned about the final output’s quality.
"Then, could I do a trial painting and try to qualify for the large-scale mural group?"
"A trial painting is possible, but the selections for the large-scale mural group have already been finalized. I apologize for that."
President Zhou even went out of his way to explain, "To be honest, we already had a candidate in mind before you arrived today. We’ve been waiting for their confirmation these past few days."
As soon as he said this, both master and disciple immediately thought of the young woman who had just left.
The difference was, Fang Wenjun was merely curious.
Qiu Yashu, on the other hand, was seething with resentment.
Of course, such a golden opportunity would naturally go to someone within their inner circle.
Unlike her so-called master, who hadn’t spoken a single word in her defense!
In the end, Qiu Yashu couldn’t hold back and asked outright, "President Zhou, did this preferred candidate undergo a trial painting?"
President Zhou: "No."
Qiu Yashu’s expression screamed, "I knew it."
But the next moment, President Zhou’s words slapped her across the face.
"She didn’t need a trial painting because it was unnecessary. We’ve seen her work, and we’re well aware of her capabilities."
He had considered being even more blunt but held back out of respect for his old colleague.
"I have some matters to attend to. You can think about what I’ve just said."
With that, President Zhou left with the members of the painting team.
"Master, I told you he’d pick his own people! You didn’t believe me!"
Qiu Yashu had never felt so humiliated in her life. Unable to control her emotions, she collapsed onto the table and burst into tears.
Yet after crying for what felt like ages, her master didn’t offer a single word of comfort.
"Master, you didn’t even stand up for me."
"How could I? Just look at what you’ve painted—what even is this?"
Fang Wenjun flung the entire portfolio in front of Qiu Yashu, flipping through each page one by one.
"The earlier pieces are passable, at the very least."
"But these later ones—what do you call this?"
"You spent three years at the Western Art Academy, and not only have you made zero progress, you’ve regressed this much. And you still have the nerve to cry?"
Qiu Yashu remained defiant. All her teachers had praised her work for its creativity. Even her classmates admired her.
So why did her master dismiss her so completely?
"Don’t act like you’re above criticism."
Qiu Yashu refused to back down. She admitted she’d slacked off a little these past three years.
But she’d been painting for over a decade, and even her master had acknowledged her foundational skills were intact.
With a bit of effort, she could catch up in no time.
There was still a month left until New Year's Day, and it was hard to say who this candidate would be.
Seeing her stiffen her neck and stay silent, Fang Wenjun knew there was no use saying anything more.
You can teach someone a lesson, but they won’t learn.
Life will teach them—once is enough.
From what she knew of President Zhou, anyone he dared to boast about was no ordinary person.
She’d see for herself soon enough—what it meant for there to always be someone greater, and skies beyond skies.
