Who would study psychology if they didn't have some kind of problem?

Chapter 213 A Warm Home
Li Minglu stood in his studio, his eyes unfocused.

In front of him was his desk, on which his drawing tablet was placed diagonally.

The room was dark, and the dim light from the graphics tablet screen only illuminated a small part of Li Minglu's face.

The subject of the work before us seems to be an abandoned factory in the countryside. A boy-like protagonist with his head raised is in the center, surrounded by dark blue tarpaulins, rusty zinc boxes, and murky puddles.

In the farthest distance, the outline of a small house could be vaguely seen, indistinct and seemingly about to disappear into the darkness.

The composition of the picture is exceptionally neat, to the point of being "standard"; the overall color tone is mainly dark tones such as brown and gray-black, with only the sky that the boy is looking up at having a bit of brightness.

Li Minglu stared blankly at the work in front of him for a long time before he seemed to wake up and move his eyes.

He slowly raised his pen like a puppet, hovering it over the canvas; yet he hesitated for a long time before putting pen to paper, as if he were pondering something he was extremely unwilling to do.

But in the end, the pen tip still touched it.

About ten minutes later, the canvas, which was originally dark in color, was filled with bright and soothing colors, making it look much more "complete".

Li Minglu pursed his lips, his chest sinking slightly as he let out a long breath.

[Another painting like this.]

He thought to himself calmly.

Artworks should unleash imagination and be free to roam; however, current works often resemble solved high school geometry problems, with every composition and line as standard and rigid as a formula for solving the problem.

This isn't "art," but it's very "work."

Li Minglu seemed to want to see his work for even a second longer, mechanically and quickly saving it, changing the file name, compressing it, selecting objects, and sending emails.

After finishing all this, he turned his head and stared blankly at something covered by a dust cloth in the corner of the studio. Judging from the raised outline, it seemed to be an easel.

However, he only glanced at it once before quickly turning his head back to stare blankly at the computer screen.

dong dong dong-

A knocking sound echoed in the studio. Li Minglu did not respond, as if he were isolated from the outside world.

Bang, bang, bang, bang—

The sound became slightly louder and more urgent, escalating from knocking with knuckles to pounding with a fist.

Li Minglu ignored it.

Thud—bang—thud—

It wasn't until the door was kicked open that Li Minglu seemed to wake up.

The studio door clicked open, and Wang Sui's gloomy face finally appeared in the doorway.

The moment she saw Li Minglu, she immediately and without hesitation scolded him: "Why did it take you so long to open the door again? Why did you lock the door again? Don't you know what's going on with you? Do you know how worried I was about you?"

Li Minglu lowered his eyes and slowly said, "...I'm sorry."

Wang Sui raised her chin, pushed aside Li Minglu, and walked to the desk.

"Is the deadline tomorrow? Is it finished?"

"All right."

"Can I see it?"

Although it is a question, it is phrased in an unquestionable tone.

Li Minglu blinked. Wang Sui rarely made such a request because his wife could hardly understand his paintings, and eventually stopped looking at them.

Sure enough, after opening it...

"Isn't this painting similar to yesterday's? Don't you have work today?"

"I've finished my work and submitted the final draft."

Wang Sui didn't understand the painting, and didn't dwell on the topic too much.

"I picked up my son and daughter, and I even bought some late-night snacks on the way." The dining table was set up. The contents of the disposable cardboard boxes were placed on porcelain plates, along with our own bowls, chopsticks, and spoons. It looked quite presentable and surprisingly gave off a warm, homey feeling.

Li Minglu looked at his son and daughter sitting beside him, his eyes unusually brightening, and he forced a stiff smile onto his otherwise stiff face.

He felt he should be happy at this moment, so he should laugh.

But he didn't realize that the expression he was making was worse than if he hadn't smiled at all.

Li Minglu, speaking as a father, asked with concern, "How was class today?"

"...I'm so tired. It seems like my teacher doesn't like me, and neither do my classmates..."

The younger daughter immediately complained, "Daddy, when are you going to take us to the amusement park again?"

The older son nudged his sister with his shoulder as if he wanted to say something, but it was obviously too late.

Wang Sui slammed her hand on the table, followed by her scolding: "How can you be so insensible? Your father is sick and you still want him to take you out to play all the time?"

"Eat quickly, then go back to your book and go to sleep!"

The daughter and the son, who were caught in the crossfire, became pitiful, and their tasteless eating of the late-night snack soon mirrored Li Minglu's.

A home shouldn't be like this...

This isn't the home I want.

The idea suddenly flashed through Li Minglu's mind.

Why is this happening?

[Because of me?]

Wang Sui, on the other hand, enjoyed her meal. After sending the child back to their room, she began to clean up the mess on the table.

"Aru".

"Uh-huh?"

Wang Sui started filling the sink with water: "I met up with some friends today to talk about you. They seem to know some people in psychology, and they gave me a lot of advice."

"Ah."

"The late-night snack tasted good, didn't it?" Wang Sui licked her lips, as if savoring the memory, while starting to wash the dishes. "Eating delicious food makes me feel better. Although eating these things at night might make me fat, I can always lose weight. I should focus on improving my own situation first."

"……Um."

"Also, I don't understand those paintings you've drawn, but the colors all seem so gloomy. We should use some bright colors to paint now, like red or yellow, which will improve our mood. What's this called... color psychology? You can pay attention to that when you paint in the future."

"…………Um."

"besides."

Wang Sui began rinsing the dishes still covered in dish soap foam with water: "From now on, try to control yourself in front of the children."

"……Um?"

"I heard today that depression can be contagious. It sounds like nonsense, right? But then I thought, we can't be careless. I don't care; if I were going to get it, I would have gotten it long ago. But the kids are too young to understand anything. I feel like they've been talking less and less lately."

"I know you're upset, but can you control yourself a little when your daughter and son are around?"

Li Minglu's chest seemed to pause for a moment, and his whole body stiffened.

"Okay." He said.

"Well, and then, Aru, there's something else I need to tell you..."

Suddenly, both Li Minglu and Wang Sui heard their cell phones ringing.

He interrupted Wang Sui.

(End of this chapter)