Almighty painter

Chapter 1005 Coco's Phone Call

"Oh, those are Keats' poems."

Yang Dekang raised his chin and casually said, "It attempts to discuss what 'poetic' is in artistic creation and what true genius is."

"A true genius?"

Gu Weijing felt the heat waves on the sand sea and was slightly lost in thought.

"Yes. Keats believed that there are two kinds of famous artists in the world. One kind is excellent, but it is still an excellence that has been processed, and their works are full of affectation. It is like a person who needs a cane to walk."

"He used this poem to criticize William Wordsworth, a great English poet of his time. Wordsworth's poetry is full of intense emotional outpourings, a sense of loneliness, and sadness, with an excessive emphasis on personal emotional experience. He thought Wordsworth was too petty. He believed that such cathartic creations would diminish the poetic quality of the work, or even be seen as hiding in one's own little world, escaping reality."

"By facing nature directly, one can contain everything within oneself, transform oneself into a container of nature, allowing all things to resonate naturally with one's emotions, and ultimately, become a container for art."

“For example, in Keats’s ‘Ode to a Nightingale,’ he melted into the nightingale’s song, as if he had become the nightingale himself, which is the so-called state of having both self and no self.”

"That's the purest 'poetic' thing, that's the purest genius! Turn around and let's smile together."

Yang Dekang stretched his hand out of the window, leaned against the central armrest, and put his arm around Gu Weijing's shoulder like an older brother. With a "smack," he took a selfie against the backdrop of the desert sand.

He was clearly praising Keats, but the arrogant and cool expression on his face clearly indicated that Keats was a truly born genius.

For example...

Me, your brother Yang.

Alas, I find the green hills so charming, and I suppose the green hills find me just as charming. John Keats was born two hundred years too early, and was not fortunate enough to meet Yang Ge in person; it must have been the greatest regret of the poet's life.

Mr. Yang felt genuinely saddened for the British poet.

"Neither self nor other, becoming part of nature?" The young painter seemed somewhat confused.

"It's about transforming personal emotions into universal poetry, not about shouting and yelling, but about letting the world speak for itself—"

Yang Dekang glanced at Gu Weijing.

Dull-witted.

A very smart young man, but why can't he understand such a simple example right in front of him? It's about integrating personal emotions into the general environment.

Old Yang did such a good job.

In Singapore, he wore an Armani suit with a pink Hello Kitty scarf pinned to his chest, flitting through the Raffles Hotel's event hall like a butterfly, drawing all eyes to him.

So cool.

So arrogant.

MAN!

In Germany, he drove his Porsche sports car, top down, speeding along the highway with no speed limit, the sunlight shining on the Rolex gold watch on his wrist, making it sparkle.

So cool.

So arrogant.

MAN!

In Dubai, he drove a rugged Mercedes SUV, rolled down the window, and sped coolly through the Rub' al Khali desert southwest of Abu Dhabi, with the yellow sand dancing around him.

So cool.

So arrogant.

Still a man!

Yang Dekang always manages to blend himself into his surroundings; this is called dissolving the ego.

No matter how hard you try, the world changes and the environment is diverse, but the essence remains the same: there is a natural beauty that cannot be hidden. Not only can it not be concealed, but it also makes the world resonate strongly with it.

If an awl is inserted into a bag, its blade will inevitably be exposed.

Yang Dekang has always been such a manly person.

Yang Dekang scrolled through his phone, watching the increasing number of user profile pictures gaining likes and dislikes on his WeChat Moments. One user, "Artist Gu Tongxiang," commented below the post: "Man!"

Old Yang couldn't help but grin.

"The only one who truly understands me is Brother Gu!"

The middle-aged man quickly typed a reply: "Of course, when can we meet again, bro?"

Yang Dekang sent an invitation to his old classmate Gu to hang out together, then turned to look at Gu Weijing.

"Hey, we rented the car all afternoon, why don't you go for a few laps?"

Gu Weijing shook his head.

He pointed to the tent next to him.

"Thank you. I'm a little dizzy. Yang, you drive. I'll go sit at the camp for a while."

"Ok."

Yang Dekang sighed helplessly.

"That's perfect. When my car comes down the dunes later, if it's convenient, take a few more long shots of the scenery, in slow motion, to make it more impressive," he coolly instructed.

Gu Weijing nodded.

"it is good."

Old Yang turned the car around and drove Gu Weijing to a nearby campsite. The Mercedes SUV stopped next to the tent, leaving behind the tracks of passing vehicles.

"Hey."

Just as Gu Weijing was about to get off the bus, Yang Dekang called him back.

The young man turned back.

"Don't be so tired."

Yang Dekang gave a thumbs up.

"Brother Gu, don't be so tired. This world is already tiring enough. It doesn't matter whether you are a real genius or not, a wild genius or a pretentious genius, whether the art exhibition is good or bad. It doesn't matter. It's not shameful to admit that you are powerless at times. You are not Superman, I am not Superman, no one is indestructible."

"But life is all about how you feel."

"Sometimes the world isn't that complicated. It's like dune bashing. You don't know if you can get over the high dunes, but you just have to stop thinking about anything, make yourself happy, forget everything, and step on the gas pedal with all your might."

"This is a contest of courage. Superman doesn't need courage to leap over sand dunes, but people do."

Gu Weijing got off the car.

He watched as Yang Dekang put on sunglasses, shifted gears, and cool music played from the radio.

The middle-aged man whistled like a cowboy riding a horse and slammed on the gas pedal without hesitation.

With a whoosh, the off-road vehicle kicked up dust from all four wheels, bouncing across the sand pit ahead. The nitrogen-filled suspension was compressed to its limit, producing a loud crackling sound before bouncing back up.

Gu Weijing watched as Old Yang, trailing a long plume of dust like splashed ink, roared furiously as he ran headlong toward the largest sand dune in the desert without looking back.

The young man held up his phone.

"That's so cool," Gu Weijing sighed softly.

Sometimes, you might find people like Yang Dekang incredibly greasy, as if he could squeeze two pounds of oil out of a pound of words.

And sometimes.

You'd think Yang Dekang was a damn insightful philosopher who saw through the ways of the world.
-

half year ago.

A week before the Christmas holidays, Gu Weijing picked up his phone, entered the number he had memorized by heart into his phonebook, waited a moment, and then added the suffix -72.

He dialed the number.

"Beep, beep, beep..."

The phone's receiver emitted a waiting tone.

About a third of the time, he'd hear a notification that the number he dialed was not in service. Of the remaining calls, about a third would be disconnected either by the caller or by the caller being disconnected due to prolonged silence. And then there were the last few...

He would also politely apologize to the other party a few seconds after the call connected, saying that he had dialed the wrong number.

Gu Weijing would cross out the last digits of phone numbers that were not in service, cross out the last digits of phone numbers that were dialed incorrectly after being connected, and make a separate note of phone numbers that were not in service but could not be connected for various reasons. He would then call them again at a different time the next day, and then continue the above process.

It's been going on for a long time.

Gu Weijing seemed to possess a kind of magic, able to find joy even in failure.

While he waited, he tried to guess who was on the other end of the phone—a man or a woman, whether their voice was old or young, and what their accent was.

Gu Weijing hoped that this time, his call wouldn't be automatically blocked because the other party's phone identified it as a telemarketing number.

Good luck.

This week, the phone rang six times before being successfully connected.

No one spoke; in the background, there seemed to be noisy music from a large shopping market, and what sounded like someone selling some kind of canned fruit.

But no one spoke.

"I heard that canned food contains a lot of sugar, and eating too much of it will make you fat, miss."

Gu Weijing spoke into the receiver.

"Pah, that's bullshit."

The person on the phone spoke with an extremely contemptuous tone.

"Just look at the cat you keep, and you'll know that you have absolutely no say in whether or not you'll gain weight."

"gentlemen."

Before she could finish speaking, a soft chuckle came from the other end of the phone.

"You don't go around giving weight advice to everyone you meet, do you? Did you switch careers to selling health insurance? Or diet pills? Do you get a commission? I can introduce you to some clients." She said cheerfully, "You didn't see those young girls, several of them have an almost hateful aversion to fat."

"Do not."

Gu Weijing thought about it.

He said, "I thought... my ringtone would be Taylor Swift's music. Like, if it feels like a quiet night, to dress up like hipsters or something."

"It's perfect night. If feels like a perfect night, to dress up like hipsters."

The woman on the phone was humming lyrics from the song "22".

"The night is mysterious~ perfect for dressing up as a trendy girl and making fun of our exes."

"The night is quiet, those are lyrics from 'Cruel Summer.' The two songs are completely incompatible in style, don't you have any sense? Think about it, right? A perfect night is when you dress up and go out looking your best. What are you doing in the silent night? Stealing, huh?"

"Besides, how many people actually set up custom ringtones these days?"

Gu Weijing really knew that Coco was on the other end of the phone.

I didn't find out when she was humming a song.

I didn't find out when she commented on Awang's weight.

Gu Weijing knew the moment the call connected.

This is a premonition that cannot be described in words.

It wasn't that Gu Weijing knew those phone numbers were wrong; he also had some expectations when dialing other numbers.

once.

The voice of the young woman opposite him sounded a lot like Coco's. When he asked, "May I ask who you are...?" he even hesitated for a moment.

But this time it's different.

Gu Weijing felt his heartbeat being stretched out by the monotonous ringing of the phone. As for the long silence after answering the call and the breathy sound coming from the receiver, it was like someone covering your eyes from behind, gently blowing on your neck, and making you guess who it was.

Among a thousand instruments, everyone is playing the same music, but there is one instrument whose sound is exceptionally different from the others.

If the cow in front of Gu Weijing knew what the young man was thinking, it would be pawing excitedly.

Moo moo!
I understand, bro, I understand.

Moo moo!
After listening to a certain viola player's music, the big cow thought he was invincible and that he could easily switch careers to become a bullfighter.

"and you?"

Gu Weijing asked.

"You wouldn't just receive a random call and then disappear like a ghost for ages, wouldn't you? What if the caller really is a health insurance salesperson with a strange personality? And then just keep wasting time like that."

"why not?"

"I can't help but ask," Coco asked slyly.

"Anyway, it's not like I'm the one who answers the phone and I have to pay the bill." Gu Weijing could imagine the woman's eyes crinkling as she spoke.

"But believe it or not, I know you made this call."

Coco said.

"A witch?" Gu Weijing exclaimed in surprise.

"That's called math, silly kid."

Coco replied.

"Someone like you would most likely type in numbers one by one, following the order of the number table."

“72. There are 54 weeks in a year, and you get one injection a week. Counting the time, it should be around this time,” Miss Coco explained.

"That's amazing?" Gu Weijing asked in surprise.

"I have so many amazing skills, this is nothing compared to what I've learned," Coco said proudly.

"What if... I hit it backwards?"

Gu Weijing expressed his curiosity. "I'm a little disappointed. If we had subtracted from 99, we could have gotten it a whole year earlier."

"Then you'll have to omit the more than 50 good points you've summarized about Miss Coco. You should feel sorry about that, sir."

Coco said in a very serious tone.

"Wait a minute! I'll take care of this Latina lady selling cabbages over here in two minutes."

The woman spoke into the phone.

Gu Weijing heard arguing coming from the phone.

An older woman seemed to be saying something, chattering away, but was immediately drowned out by an even louder chatter. It was English mixed with a bit of Italian? Or maybe Spanish; the words flowed rapidly, everything spraying at each other like ribbons.

Two minutes later.

The phone receiver carried Coco's triumphant voice.

"in argument?"

Gu Weijing asked.

"Yeah, I was buying groceries at a small farm market in the countryside here. This guy shortchanged me and pretended not to understand me. So what if he knows a few words of Spanish? It wasn't much money, less than a pound, but I just can't let him get away with this."

Coco was breathing heavily, as if she were walking while carrying a handbag.

"You've learned new Spanish?"

Gu Weijing recalled Miss Coco's famous "extracurricular activity enthusiast syndrome".

"No, they learned it on their own. My roommates are Italian and Spanish, and they just picked it up by listening. I have to keep an eye out for them secretly gossiping about things I don't understand."

Coco smiled.

(End of this chapter)