Zhezhi

The girl proudly presented her painting to her mother, eager to share her achievement. The woman, absorbed in selecting jewelry to wear, stole a fleeting glance at the artwork. "Impressive, Zhezhi," she murmured with a brief smile. Delighted by the praise, the girl inched closer. "The people in this one are—" Her words faltered as her mother turned, absorbed in wardrobe choices, oblivious to her daughter's attempt at connection. "Well done. Now, why don't you paint a few more before the guests arrive?" Zhezhi blinked, at a loss for words. Her mother grew impatient, sighing as she marched Zhezhi to the door. "Buy whatever supplies you need, dear. The price doesn't matter, we can afford it. Now, I need to dress. Be a good girl. Off you go." As the door closed, Zhezhi stared at it, wanting to say more but unable to find the courage to voice the sinking feeling in her chest.

Later that evening, Zhezhi, dressed to impress, nervously clutched her skirt in the corner seat, silent amidst the bustling room of guests. The woman noted Zhezhi's unease, the sight of it triggering memories of their family's past struggles and humble beginnings. She strode forward, taking Zhezhi's hand and leading her into the center of attention. "Didn't you know? Zhezhi was gifted from the day she was born. Her paintings were chosen for exhibitions even before we hired a tutor." With a painted smile, she mimicked the grace of the upper class. "Would you care for a painting too? Zhezhi can finish one in a day." Zhezhi shrank inwardly, wishing to disappear, only to be thrust forward. "Show everyone your skills, Zhezhi." All eyes turned to her, leaving Zhezhi trembling, unable to paint a single stroke.

Later, as the mansion fell silent, Zhezhi gathered her courage again. Holding the day's painting, she approached her parents' bedroom door. Just before knocking, she overheard their conversation inside.

"Did you know? That painting sold for 400,000 Credits today. With this money, we can fulfill the paused order."

"Right. Are the paintings for the guests ready for this weekend?"

"Not yet. Zhezhi mentioned wanting to go to the theater. That girl, always seeking diversions, never thinking about what's best for this family..."

Zhezhi looked down at the happy family in the painting, her grip tightening until it crumpled, distorting her mother and father's faces.

"...I'm sorry."

Zhezhi realized something was amiss in her painting only after heading out for a sketch. As she took in the idyllic countryside, a new idea struck her like a ray of sunlight. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she stretched her arms, and for a moment, let go of her parents' demands.

As her bare feet met the grass, its prickly, cool softness awakened a sense of nature's healing vitality. She broke into an impulsive run, shedding worries about upholding the refined image her family demanded. A distant voice abruptly interrupted her frolic.

"Hey, who are you? What are you doing in our field?"

Startled, Zhezhi immediately looked down at her feet in embarrassment. Realizing she was trespassing on private property, she apologized as she tried to leave. "I'm so sorry! I came here to paint. I didn't know this was someone's field..."

The girl laughed, seeing the panic on Zhezhi's face. "Don't worry! These veggies are tough. You don't need to run!" She laughed as she continued gathering the vegetables with her sickle. "A painter, huh? That's different..." Zhezhi hesitated for a moment, seeing the girl hard at work. "Let me help you with that..." The girl met Zhezhi's eyes with a twinkle. "Sure! Thanks for offerin'! Here, use this sickle, I'll go grab another one!"

Zhezhi stared in confusion at the sickle promptly shoved into her hands. But she soon squatted down among the tall vegetables, mimicking the farm girl's movements. "Wait, wait. You won't get anywhere doin' it like that. Here, lemme show ya!"

Under the hot sun, the two girls worked together to harvest the field until they reached its end. Exhausted, they lay under a tree to rest. Zhezhi forgot about the mud on her shoes and the dirt on her expensive dress, lost in the joy of spending time with her new friend. The carefree laughter between them filled her heart with ease and brought a true smile to her lips.

The mood was suddenly cut by a sharp voice. Zhezhi turned to see her mother watching, her eyes squinted in anger. Zhezhi could see her disdain for her new friend. Sprinting to her feet, she ran to explain and apologize, transforming back into the child her parents demanded she be.

A few days later, the girl received a scroll. She unrolled it carefully, gasping softly at the sight. The painting showed her and Zhezhi in the sprawling fields of her home, picking vegetables together.

A letter fell from the painting.

"I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I had so much fun harvesting the field with you! The sickle, the sun beating down on us, my sore hands... It made me realize what my paintings were missing. This is my best work, and it's for you! I hope you like it! Maybe next week, I can sneak out to help again."

Reading the letter made the girl smile, but she couldn't help being confused by Zhezhi's last line.

Next week? Did she think the vegetables would grow back that fast?

Zhezhi stood a short distance from the art supply store, eyeing the tall, gruff-looking clerk who was frowning and scribbling something in a notepad. She hesitated, taking a few steps back.

"Maybe I should go to another store..." The thought had barely crossed her mind before she dismissed it. "But... this is the only store with the latest supplies..."

Zhezhi stopped her pacing and pulled out a coin, a habit she had developed for situations like this. She tossed it into the air, caught it, and thought to herself, "The usual. Heads, I go in. Tails, I come back another time..."

She slowly opened her palm, peeking briefly before quickly squeezing her hand shut. "No, wait. Best two out of three."

The coin went up and came back down. "Heads again," she sighed.

Clutching the coin tightly, Zhezhi took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Oh well, I guess this is a sign. I can't keep running away."

Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she marched to the store and pushed the door open with all her might. The sharp ring of the bell above the door sent her nerves into overdrive. She rushed forward with a lowered gaze and blurted out the lines she'd rehearsed countless times, as if her tongue was on fire.

"H-Hello! I'd like to buy some new paint! Six cans of Malachite Green No.3, five cans of Azurite Blue No.3, five cans of Vermilion, three cans of Indigo, three cans of Ochre, three cans of Gamboge, and two cans of Golden Yellow. Thank you!"

Relieved to have finished her sentence smoothly without a single pause, Zhezhi inhaled deeply to catch her breath. When she looked up, she met the eyes of a surprised-looking clerk who was just coming out from the back room.

"Hello there. How can I help you?" The clerk's gentle voice was a stark contrast to what Zhezhi had imagined.

Realizing that her earlier words had gone unheard, she froze. "Uhh... I..."

"Are you looking for any specific art supplies?"

"P-Paint... I..."

"The new releases? They're quite popular."

"N-No... I think I..."

"No rush. Feel free to look around."

Zhezhi, sweating and nervous, walked over to a shelf. "O-Okay..."

The clerk's detailed and professional introduction of the products gradually eased Zhezhi's nerves. She relaxed and was able to name what she wanted, even chatting about her painting.

"If you're using White Jade Paper, these new products would pair nicely."

"Perfect, that's just what I needed. I'll take these too."

Walking out of the store with her new supplies, Zhezhi felt light and confident.

"I guess I can talk to people when I'm not feeling anxious. Next time... I'll try it without flipping the coin. Maybe it'll work out again..."

Unsuspecting, Zhezhi was thrown out of her home, her belongings strewn across the courtyard like discarded memories. As she gazed at the mess, it dawned on her that she herself was just another discarded item, abandoned by her parents like the rest.

Desperate for shelter, she first sought out places familiar to her. But those once kind and welcoming turned cold when they learned of her plight. Behind their polite excuses, Zhezhi saw the distaste in their eyes as they pointed her to an old hotel on a street corner.

The hotel's decaying corridors teemed with unfamiliar fights and loud arguments. Sitting on the bed, she wrapped herself tightly in the musty covers, eyes fixed on the flimsy wooden door barricaded by a table. She longed for sleep, hoping to wake from this nightmare, yet fear kept her awake, afraid the door would shatter if she closed her eyes.

Her descent from luxury to hardship stretched endlessly, each day a painful reminder. The staggering figures of her parents' debt seemed to flicker across the ceiling in the dim light of her windowless room. Her hands, covered in worn bandages, trembled from painting non-stop for two days, but she dared not rest.

"It's a big order... I can't mess this up," she murmured, her weary eyes blurring the landscapes on her canvas.

Suddenly, harsh shouts pierced the night, jarring her awake from an unintended nap at her desk. She stumbled to the door, slipping on something wet at her feet.

Aching from the fall, she stood nervously at the door of her leaking room, apologizing repeatedly to her neighbors. The biting cold seeped through her wet clothes, and the neighbors' complaints echoed through the thin walls. She stared at her painting, ruined by the water, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips, compressing the room's thin air, almost crushing her fragile frame.

Zhezhi's exhausted figure stood motionless in the cold puddle. After a long pause, a faint light glowed in the cramped room. With paint-stained fingertips, she scrolled through her Terminal, "First, shut off the water valve... then replace the damaged parts..."

She had made a habit of looking up solutions for life's unexpected challenges.

"I think I've got it... I'll give it a try..."

She waded through the water, slowly making her way to the source of the problem.

"This painting is a reflection of me. Everyone needs to see at first glance that it's an expensive masterpiece."

"If this is the best you can do, I'll take it. But only at half the price."

The client's words echoed in Zhezhi's mind. She wandered the streets with her bundle of paintings, feeling a sense of numbness begin to creep over her as the festive preparations around her started to fade into the background. It wasn't until she tripped, her paintings scattering, that she snapped out of her daze. Without bothering to look for her glasses, at first she scrambled to pick up her work. But as the wind blew some paintings out of reach, she stopped, staring for a moment before deciding to let them go.

"Forget it, they're lousy anyway... What's the point of having them back..."

She dropped the remaining paintings in her arms, letting them fall. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice someone stopping in front of her.

A stranger picked up her paintings and glasses, handing them back to her.

"Did you paint these? I've never seen art like that. Remarkable."

Zhezhi, stunned by the compliment, could only accept the outstretched paintings and watch the stranger turn and leave alongside their companions, disappearing into the night.

She fumbled to put on her glasses to catch a clearer glimpse of who it was, but all she caught was a distant silhouette.

"Someone complimented me... "

"They had nothing to gain from it. It was just... simple praise for my paintings."

The stranger's words, simple yet sincere, pierced through her paintings to reach her heart. For the first time ever, it was as if someone saw her creative intentions. It was like a sudden beam of light scattering the dark clouds that had long weighed her down, bringing a sense of warmth long overdue.

Zhezhi stared in the direction the stranger had vanished, clutching her paintings tightly. Until...

"Excuse me... Hello?"

Days later, a familiar voice startled her out of her thoughts as she searched for the perfect spot to paint.

"Don't worry, we're just here to chat."

Zhezhi looked up and saw a pair of golden eyes. The memory of that night rushed back—this was the person who had complimented her work, their voice free of the pretense she had grown to despise from everyone else. That voice had given her strength when she had been ready to give it all up.

The warmth from that night returned, filling a world of pale grey with color once more.