Chapter 16

Chapter 16

School Observations (Part Three)

Having a sum of money she earned herself was a fresh experience for Yu Manyi. But in essence, she had not yet labored for this salary, so for now, it could be seen as a prepayment for the experience of earning. After inquiring about the art studio’s fees, Song Qi gave Yu Manyi three silver dollars—half a dollar more than the tuition fee.

The Yu family wasn’t short on money, but daughters weren’t entitled to hold property. This was why, since ancient times, women would have gold and silver made into jewelry as part of their dowry. Yu Manyi used to feel sad for them when hearing such stories—their wealth was always fixed, subject only to gain or loss, leading to countless tales of women going mad over money. If money were something that could grow or be regained after loss, there surely wouldn’t be so many women throwing themselves into rivers over a box of jewelry.

Once you experience the joy of earning, you understand it’s far more reliable than depending on a dowry. But Yu Manyi remained clear-headed. Her salary hadn’t come from solid footing—it was essentially a shortcut through her connections to Song Qi and Fang Qian. There were still many things she needed to do.

Silver dollars were larger and heavier than copper coins. Holding three stacked together in her palm felt substantial, even making her hand sweat a little. She carried them from the school to the art studio. Taking advantage of the noon break, she went to enroll. The windows and doors were just being propped open. Inside sat an artist in his thirties, wearing a gray-blue long robe, with an apron and sleeves stained with paint. After sitting face to face, he introduced himself to Yu Manyi. His name was Su Wen.

The name sounded elegant, and the man himself was equally refined. Aside from Song Qi, this was the first time Yu Manyi had spoken alone with a man outside the Yu family. Her palms were drenched with sweat from nerves. When handing over the silver dollars, the coins were damp from her grip.

Su Wen was momentarily surprised. Looking out at the cloudless sky, he asked curiously, “Did it rain on your way here?”

Yu Manyi hurriedly shook her head and said, “It’s just too hot. I ran and got all sweaty.”

Su Wen laughed. The lines at the corners of his eyes showed he was older than both her and Song Qi. He accepted the silver coins, pulled out a registration form from a drawer, and pushed it to her, joking, “No need to rush—I’m open until evening.”

“I still have a literacy class this afternoon.” Yu Manyi took the form, glanced down at the many blank fields, then picked up Su Wen’s fountain pen from the table and began filling them out one by one, starting with her name.

“Literacy class?” Su Wen seemed to understand and casually chatted with her. “So you’re one of the two young ladies sent from those gentry households? The one with the surname You?”

“You’ve heard of us?” Yu Manyi was surprised, looked up at him, then lowered her head and focused on writing. “I’m not surnamed You. I’m from the Yu family. My name is Yu Manyi.”

After completing the top section of personal information, the form continued with a questionnaire. Yu Manyi paused at the field labeled “Art Foundation,” hesitated for a moment, then looked up and asked, “How should I judge this foundation? I haven’t studied formally, but I’ve drawn quite a lot myself. So I suppose I’m not completely without a foundation.”

“You’ve drawn before? Did you bring any with you?”Yu Manyi had already thought about a similar question last night. She quickly took out some casual sketches from her satchel. She used to feel quite proud of these works, but ever since she saw the paintings Su Wen had hung by the window, that pride had mostly disappeared. If Su Wen decided to categorize her as someone with “zero foundation,” she wouldn’t be able to refute it.

But Su Wen didn’t say that.

When he took Yu Manyi’s drawings, his expression still carried a slight smile. After flipping through a few pages, a trace of astonishment appeared on his face. But that astonishment gradually turned into puzzlement. After looking through more than ten pages, his expression returned to normal—it was clear he had formed a judgment of her work.

Yu Manyi sat upright, facing the first “professional painter” she had ever met in her life. Her expression was so serious it was as if she were waiting for a verdict. Su Wen neatly arranged her drawings on the table and pushed them back to the side of her registration form, then asked:

“These drawings… who did you model them after?”

Yu Manyi hadn’t expected that question. After thinking for a moment, she replied, “Embroidery patterns, the screen at home, wrapping paper taken from goods... whatever I had, I imitated.”

“You’re very good at imitation, and you can copy things very well,” Su Wen said. “But the things you’re imitating are all very ordinary. You’ve already copied too many mundane things. If you attend classes, I’ll have you imitate better art pieces. That will help you improve more.”

“Teacher Su, but…” Yu Manyi suddenly spoke, as if she had a different thought about his words. But she wasn’t good at refuting or contradicting others. So, after starting the sentence, she got stuck.

“What is it?” Su Wen’s voice had the typical soft tone of Wu dialect—gentle and smooth. This gentleness encouraged her.

“…But actually, I just want to draw ordinary things,” Yu Manyi finally gathered the courage to be honest. “I just want to draw these ordinary things as best as I can. Because from what I’ve seen, those better things you mentioned…”

She paused for a moment and continued:

“…they require a lot of money, a lot of time, to be able to draw those good things.” She looked at Su Wen and tried her best to organize her words. “From the people who introduced me to the class, to the person who lent me the tuition, and just now—even you—all of you seem to assume that people come to learn painting because they love painting, because they want to draw better art. But actually… of course I love painting, and I want to paint better too. But my love and my wishes aren’t what matter.”

“Then what do you think is important?” Su Wen’s tone remained calm, while Yu Manyi’s pace quickened now that she’d found her footing. She was eager to express her thoughts to her teacher. She only had these three silver dollars, and just over a month left of the literacy class.

“One of the teachers in the literacy class told me,” Yu Manyi said, “that a person must have a skill to rely on and make a living. I don’t understand arithmetic—I’m no good at it. I’m not very good at English either—that won’t work. I can read, but there are too many people who can read. After thinking it over, the only skill I really have… is drawing.”She referred to drawing as a craft, something akin to carpentry or blacksmithing—Su Wen already understood how she viewed her own talent. He found it a bit of a pity, but not hard to comprehend.

"I often see newspapers and magazines needing illustrations," Yu Manyi continued, "those foreign goods also need packaging illustrations. My very first paycheck was because I could draw illustrations for someone. Teacher Su, I didn’t come here to learn fine art. I just want to have a craft that I can rely on to make a living—like drawing those so-called ‘mediocre’ illustrations and packaging designs. Last time I passed a photo studio, I even thought it would be fine to draw backdrops for them..."

"Alright, alright," Su Wen interrupted Yu Manyi’s urgent explanation.

He lowered his head and thought for a while, then flipped through Yu Manyi’s drawings again. He suddenly noticed some details he had previously overlooked—such as the fact that even when copying these mediocre works, her brushstrokes still carried a certain vitality. But she had hidden that vitality away, because it was the mundane things that could most quickly help her find a stable path.

Su Wen looked at her drawings and thought a while longer, then raised his head and said, “I understand what you mean now. But when you say you didn’t come here to learn fine art, that’s not exactly accurate.”

Yu Manyi looked at him in confusion.

“The path you’re talking about is called commercial art,” Su Wen patiently explained. “In Shanghai, it’s already a recognized branch of professional art. There are specialized art classes for it, focused more on commercial application—it's just not something I personally work in. Those packaging designs you mentioned copying were mostly produced in Shanghai as well.”

Commercial art.

Yu Manyi’s lips moved slightly as she silently repeated those four characters. So concise, so precise—they encapsulated everything she had just been struggling to express. Like a mess of wild, aimless vines suddenly gathered and directed toward an anchor point.

“But you explained yourself very clearly. I know what you want now,” Su Wen praised her. “So, the artworks I assign you to copy during this short course might differ somewhat from what the other students do—but not drastically. Miss Yu, in art, all paths ultimately converge. Looking at your imitations, I believe you understand what I’m saying. If you agree with me, I’ll write you a supply list. You can buy your paper, pens, and paints nearby, and you can start class in three days.”

Yu Manyi was still lost in the concise clarity of the term “commercial art.” When she nodded, it was almost in a daze.

“I… I agree,” she said, and then, realizing the class had now been confirmed, quickly corrected herself, “Teacher Su, I completely agree!”

...

Yu Manyi had absorbed more information in this single afternoon than she usually did in three days at the literacy school. While waiting for Teacher Su to write the supply list, she spent the time digesting it all. When she left the studio, she had to cross a stone arch bridge. Standing on the bridge with the list in hand, she thought for a moment—she could ask Fang Qian to come with her to buy the supplies, and say they were Fang Qian’s. That way, no one in the Yu household would suspect anything.Yu Manyi realized that after receiving some education, a person’s mind truly began to work faster, and thoughts would become more logical. In the past, something like this might have taken her three days to figure out, but now, just standing on the bridge for a while, she had already sorted it out. It seemed the brain really did become more alive the more it was used. She stood on the bridge happily, and squinted her eyes due to the harsh afternoon sun. As a black-sailed boat approached in the distance, she squinted and waved at it. The white-haired boatman, in a thick Shaoxing accent, asked, “Whose daughter are you?”

“I’m the daughter of the Yu family,” Yu Manyi said, arm raised in greeting. The wide sleeve slipped down to her elbow, revealing a fair and glowing forearm in the sunlight. Around her wrist was a bracelet of blue agate stones—something she had worn since childhood.

“Good girl,” the boatman praised, then pushed with his pole and glided the boat under the bridge. Yu Manyi ran to the other side of the bridge to watch the boat drift away, thinking she still hadn’t taken Song Qi and the others on such a boat ride. Next time they came to the eastern part of town, they could go by boat. But then she thought—Shanghai was a big city, and probably had waterways too. Maybe they didn’t think these boats were anything special. Well, if they weren’t impressed, so be it. She didn’t really have any other hospitality worth showing off. These young people from another world had brought her again and again to places she never would’ve dared to imagine before. She no longer knew what could count as enough of a repayment.

With this feeling of gratitude and invitation, Yu Manyi returned to the school. But what she hadn’t expected was that the person who’d asked her to report to the prep room after registering—Song Qi—was no longer there. Only Fang Qian and two other students sat by the table.

“The government came and summoned Mr. Meng to the county office,” Fang Qian told her. “Song Qi didn’t feel at ease and went along with him. Manyi, is it far from your house to the county office?”

“Last time when Second Uncle and the others went to a meeting,” Yu Manyi said, “they had to stay overnight in the county before returning.”

“They only left at noon today, so it’s unlikely they’ll be back tonight,” Fang Qian understood. “Maybe they’ll return tomorrow.”

But the two of them did not come back the next day either.

Yu Manyi felt that Fang Qian had glossed over many details in what she told her. The three students had clearly discussed the matter privately, but they hadn’t invited her to join in. When she was present, they all pretended to be calm and unconcerned, saying the same things to the school’s teachers:

“If they don’t come back today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then definitely the day after. When someone is traveling, unexpected delays are bound to happen.”

This unified front made Yu Manyi feel a little left out. She thought that although they treated her well, they still didn’t see her as one of them. But she wasn’t the same kind of young person as they were either. Just like how they all assumed she was learning to paint out of interest—because they themselves studied their professions out of interest—while Yu Manyi knew very well that personal interest didn’t matter much. A person’s loneliness always came from situations that others could not truly empathize with.

Her loneliness stretched into the late night of the third day. Yu Manyi had assumed Song Qi and the others wouldn’t return tonight either. She was even beginning to think—if they didn’t come back soon, would she have to ask Master Yu to report it to the authorities? After all, these days, highway robberies were still common. Her mind was now dealing with double the usual number of things. In bed, she first went over the day’s English and arithmetic lessons. Then, thinking about her first upcoming art class the next day, she tossed and turned. Finally, when she was just starting to feel a bit drowsy, she remembered Song Qi again—still no news.

Just then, she heard faint sounds from the Yu family’s front gate—the unloading of a carriage.

Her sleepiness vanished instantly.

The sound of hooves was soft—clip clop—but because it was so late at night and her mind was so clear, it seemed especially distinct. She got up, threw on a robe, and opened the window to look outside. Soon, she saw two figures—one old, one young—emerge from the darkness. They exchanged a few quiet words, then parted ways below her window. After all, when Song Qi had first chosen his room, he’d specifically requested it be close to where she lived.They had returned. Yu Manyi should have felt relieved, yet she couldn’t shake off a sense of unease. The round trip to the county town, even by carriage, shouldn't have taken three full days and nights, nor should they have returned so late at night. Standing by the window and looking down, she quickly realized what exactly felt off—Song Qi, having just come back from days of busy errands, didn’t immediately return to his room. Instead, he stood for a long time at the spot where he’d parted from the teacher, staring into the darkness in contemplation before finally moving slightly, showing signs of leaving.

Yu Manyi leaned against the window a while longer and found the situation even stranger. Because even though Song Qi had finally left, the direction he was heading in wasn’t toward his own room either.

He was walking toward the abandoned cellar of the Yu household.