Flabbergasted with the journalist, I pointed at Christopher. “Mister, if you are in our country, you would make an awesome novelist since you are excellent at making up stories. Nevertheless, my husband is right here. If you wish to know about Remington, you can ask him.”
The journalist was so embarrassed that he quickly left us. Looking at his retreating figure, I couldn’t stop laughing. “Chris, is this considered bullying? His face turned red before he left.”
“No, this is attacking the enemy without mercy. If he had not come to create trouble for us, we would not have done that.” Christopher was always supportive of me. “My wife is always right.”
“What if I really did something wrong?” I asked.
“If so, then there must be something wrong with my judgment,” Christopher said solemnly, nodding his head.
“What if I really had done something really wrong?” I winked and asked mischievously.
“Hmm, then you have to refer back to what I said previously.” Christopher really pampered me even when I behaved foolishly and asked silly questions.
Other than Remington, the few people I know at the art exhibition were those from our country. When the exhibition was at its busiest, some artists were competing at the stage right in the center. Christopher went there with me and we really enjoyed watching that. Suddenly, I noticed that Crystal and her bodyguard were also there.
Crystal saw me too and she made all sorts of angry and hateful expressions at me. She was probably still sore from what happened earlier and was afraid of getting into more trouble, so she kept her distance.
Finally, she seemed to have learned a little lesson. Someone had to keep her in line, or Crystal would think that the whole world had to behave like she was their master, by obeying her commands and pampering to her every whim.
The trend of competition during art exhibitions spread from abroad to Hawen. Later on, it became a tradition and it evolved into four main topics, “Blossoms And Full Moon,” “Phoenix,” “Winter Scenery” and “Mountainous Landscapes.”
On the stage, Remington was having a friendly competition with a foreign painter. He obviously had a unique skill and the pictures of flowers, birds and ladies he painted won praises from everyone around him.
“Chris, Remington is really amazing. In the past, my idol had been Spencer. I should have been more respectful of Remington instead.”
“Why not be your own idol? One day, you’ll be on the same level as him. To challenge yourself and do better is the most important of all,” Christopher said, looking at me sincerely.
“Yes, there is a lot of logic in what you say.” I looked at Chris solemnly like never before. “Chris, I really love painting. Even standing here, I can feel that the pores of my skin are all open and I feel alive. Thank you, Chris.”
The competition on the stage reached the third round which was the personal talent show. This was more difficult as everyone showed what they did best for everyone else to see. I was thinking about what to do if I went up. Suddenly someone pushed me from behind. I was holding a glass of red wine and I had released Christopher’s hand. When I was pushed, I staggered and went forward. The glass in my hand fell to the ground, breaking into pieces and the red wine was spilled onto the floor.
I turned around and saw Crystal running through the crowd with her brows knitted. Then, she stood at the back of the crowd and smiled triumphantly at me. She raised her hand and gave me a thumbs up. Then, she slowly turned her thumb down and silently mouthed a message to me.
I could read from her lips that she was saying, “I’ll see how you fall.”
“This is the author of “Moonlight Heaven,” Ms. Yvonne. It seems that Yvonne wants to show her special skill. Is there anyone who would like to accept her challenge?” the assistant host on the stage asked, smiling.
I was totally unprepared as I looked at the assistant who had met us at the airport. I was pushed forward. What skill was I supposed to show? I am certainly not Ansley who could paint with both hands and sell his works for hundreds of millions.
“I will!” A handsome white male walked on to the stage. He looked at me with eyes full of enmity as he introduced himself. “I’m Jonah Deere the one whose painting was replaced by yours.”
