Jiang Si never expected to receive such treatment. While thanking him, she also took a careful look.
Finally, among all the options, she chose the one she deemed most fitting.
The main title she selected was: "Fifty-Six Ethnic Groups Paint the Revolutionary Spring, Eight Feet of Red Silk Ties the Hearts of Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers."
The subtitle read: "New Year's Loyalty Offered to the Red Star, Military Families Wield Brushes to Depict the Land."
Coincidentally, this was also Huo Tinghuai’s favorite. Seeing that time was almost up, he stood and said,
"Cousin-in-law, we’ll take our leave now. Looking forward to collaborating again next time."
Jiang Si smiled and nodded. "Yes, thank you for your kind words."
Huo Tinghuai knew she still had two more newspaper interviews scheduled for the afternoon and didn’t dare trouble her further.
"Cousin-in-law, no need to see us out. We can find our way down."
Jiang Si didn’t stand on ceremony either. "Then another day when you’re free, your cousin and I will treat you to a meal."
Huo Tinghuai nodded in agreement.
As they chatted, the group stepped out of the office door. President Zhou, hearing the commotion, followed them out.
Once their car had driven off, President Zhou remarked with a smile,
"With the interviews done, you can finally focus on preparing for your wedding in peace."
Jiang Si, however, shook her head with a smile. "President Zhou, it’s still early. There are two more newspapers coming later."
President Zhou was surprised. "Two more?"
But he didn’t press further. After offering a few congratulatory words, he led Jiang Si back to his office.
"Have a seat."
As he spoke, President Zhou pulled an envelope from his desk drawer.
Along with the envelope, he slid over a square box and a rolled-up scroll.
The envelope was marked with "200"—no guessing needed, it was likely payment or a bonus from the higher-ups.
As for the other two items, Jiang Si was puzzled.
"President Zhou, what are these?"
President Zhou picked up his teacup, blew lightly on the tea leaves, and then smiled.
"Open them and see for yourself."
Though uncertain, Jiang Si followed his instructions and opened the box first.
Inside was a finely textured, semi-transparent piece of chicken-blood stone, engraved at the bottom with four small seal-script characters: "Seal of Jiang Si."
Seeing her genuine delight, President Zhou said quietly,
"I had this carved specially for you. I hope one day you’ll be able to stamp it on your own work."
As he spoke, there was a trace of regret in his heart.
By rights, Jiang Si should have been allowed to sign her name on that large-scale mural.
That day, when he had stood staring at the mural for so long, he had been hesitating.
But in the end, to avoid any risks, he swallowed his words.
Fortunately, the mural had received unanimous praise from the higher-ups.
This honor would become a brilliant highlight in Jiang Si’s personal record.
"Thank you, President Zhou." Jiang Si accepted it sincerely, deeply moved by his thoughtfulness.
"Ah, we’ve known each other for so long—no need for formalities."
President Zhou waved it off. "If anything, I should be thanking you. It’s all thanks to your stepping up in a crisis that we earned such high praise from the organization."
"And these newspaper interviews you’re doing—ultimately, they bring prestige to our Artists’ Association."
Prestige was one thing, but more importantly, it meant that for a long time to come, those troublemakers wouldn’t dare come barging in.
At his prompting, Jiang Si unrolled the scroll next.
The moment it unfurled, she froze. "President Zhou, this…"
It was a landscape painting on paper—"Fuchun Daling Tu" by Huang Gongwang.
Those outside the art world might not recognize this piece, but most would have heard of his other masterpiece, "Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains."
What shocked Jiang Si was that this painting had been her master’s most treasured possession. Why was it here?
Her confusion must have been evident, because President Zhou explained,
"Yesterday, I visited your master’s wife, and she personally handed this to me, insisting I pass it on to you."
"She said it was also your master’s wish."
He paused, then lowered his voice. "Beyond congratulating you on your marriage, I’m sure you can guess the rest."
This was the height of the "Destroy the Four Olds" campaign, and the fervor in Capital City was fiercer than anywhere else.
They could protect these treasures for a time, but not forever.
President Zhou’s few words carried unspoken resignation.
Jiang Si didn’t refuse. With her space, she could safeguard these artworks.
For now, she would keep them in her master’s stead.
The two chatted a while longer until, close to noon, Huo Tingzhou’s voice sounded outside.
He had come to take Jiang Si to lunch.
Since she still had two interviews in the afternoon, they didn’t go far, settling on a state-run restaurant nearby.
Around 12:30, the two newspaper teams arrived at the Artists’ Association one after the other.
As arranged with the Public Security Bureau, each newspaper sent one reporter and one editor.
The Bureau also dispatched two seasoned officers.
Following protocol, the officers first showed Jiang Si a list of pre-approved questions.
Reading through them, she spotted several issues.
Seeing her frown, the editors grew nervous.
"Comrade Jiang, is there something inappropriate?"
Jiang Si nodded. She understood the purpose of these interviews.
The challenge was that explaining the methodology might compromise investigations.
But avoiding the details would make it hard to build public trust.
After a moment’s thought, she removed questions about facial feature matching rules, identification criteria, specific classifications, and database sources.
Instead, she framed the interview around "discussing results, not mechanisms."
Though the interviews didn’t delve as deep as hoped, both newspapers expressed understanding.
Within safe limits, Jiang Si provided non-classified materials and sketches.
The sessions went smoothly, and by 5 p.m., the reporters finally relaxed, clutching their completed drafts.
With the day growing late, they quickly took their leave.
With the interviews wrapped up, Jiang Si breathed a sigh of relief.
As she got into the car, Huo Tingzhou suddenly handed her a bundle.
Wrapped in brown paper were dozens of paintbrushes and several jars of snowflake cream.
Unlike Qiongzhou Island, where wildflowers were plentiful, he had spent the afternoon gathering brushes in every color.
"For me?"
Jiang Si was both surprised and delighted.
No woman disliked a thoughtful gesture.
Before Huo Tingzhou could ask if she liked them, she answered,
"I love them. I really do."
Of course, what she loved most was him.
And she had a feeling his cousin’s visit today had also been his doing.
Thanks to the unexpected joy Huo Tingzhou had given her, Jiang Si couldn't wipe the smile off her face the entire way home.
That is, until they entered the residential compound together.
As fate would have it, the moment they parked the car, they spotted the four members of the Ling family stepping out of the Yu household.
The two families were still exchanging pleasantries at the door.
Jiang Si couldn’t be bothered to look at them and simply looped her arm through Huo Tingzhou’s.
It had been agreed earlier that both families would dine together today, and Third Uncle and the others were likely already waiting.
"Let’s go, let’s head home," she said.
Huo Tingzhou also withdrew his assessing gaze. "Alright, this way—it’s shorter."
By the time the Ling family noticed the commotion and turned to look, all they saw were the retreating figures of the two.
Yu Changqing suddenly remarked with pointed meaning,
"That’s the third son of the Huo family, and the woman next to him is his wife. Their families are planning to hold the wedding banquet on New Year’s Day."
"Not to exaggerate, but those two are truly a match made in—" Before he could finish the phrase "heaven,"
Ling Yunfei cut him off with a derisive snort. "Enough. It’s getting late; we should head back."
Without even a word of farewell, he strode straight to the car.
Father Ling was so furious his head buzzed, but now wasn’t the time to speak up.
Instead, it was the Ling family’s youngest son, Ling Yunlong—the one set to marry into the Yu family—who spoke.
"Uncle Yu, our apologies. My brother’s wife has been threatening divorce lately, and he’s been acting out these past few days."
"No harm done. My bad for bringing up a sore subject," Yu Changqing said, though inwardly, he was baffled.
Since when had that lecher changed his ways?
