"Teacher Xia, I think my husband has had a change of heart. He left me alone in the hospital, and every day he runs around as though he's lost his soul." Xu Huan's wife sat upright on the sofa, her mind elsewhere.
Across from her, behind the drawing board, stood a gentle, sunny man. His eyes narrowed involuntarily when he smiled, making him seem approachable.
"It's finished."
As the final stroke fell, Xu Huan's wife suddenly perked up and hurried over to the drawing board.
Intense red bloomed across the pure white paper. The woman in the painting cradled a warm heart, her expression holy, blood dripping down her slender wrists onto her wedding dress.
"Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful." Xu Huan's wife lost herself in the painting. She felt Teacher Xia had painted her soul—or rather, the person she most wanted to become.
"You were beautiful to begin with." After cleaning up his paints, Teacher Xia left Xu Huan's wife undisturbed, picked up his bag, and headed outside.
"Leaving so early today, Teacher Xia?" A bodyguard from the Human Rights Committee greeted him with a smile, not the least bit surprised to see him emerge from the Director-General's daughter's room so late.
Teacher Xia turned back with a smile and nodded slightly. "I'm meeting someone today."
"Would you like us to arrange a car?"
"Thank you, but there's no need."
Teacher Xia seemed like a born aristocrat, every gesture carrying an air that set him apart from ordinary people. He walked a long way to a shabby bus stop and boarded the last bus to the Old City.
He hummed softly. It had been a long time since he had felt as happy as he did tonight.
An hour later, Teacher Xia was making his way through the