OFTLHFRO C51

Chapter 51: Lanterns and Paintings

As night fell, the streets filled with people out to enjoy themselves, and many vendors were selling lanterns.

Huo Xiang and little Huo Xinyue couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful displays.

Even Huo Yuhui, already older, rarely saw such a scene—let alone his much younger siblings.

Luo Mingchen, too, seldom saw lanterns this lovely; the craftsmanship differed greatly from modern work.

There were no streetlights, and the bright full moon overhead outshone even the lanterns.

“Do you want lanterns?” Luo asked.

At once, the long-envious Huo Xiang blurted, “Little Daddy! I want a lantern!”

“Alright—one each.”

They wandered from one end of the street to the other, each choosing a favorite lantern.

Carrying a lotus-shaped lantern, Luo looked at Huo Yan. “Why didn’t you pick one?”

“None I liked,” Huo said.

“Really?”

Luo thought a moment, then found a vendor and bought a goldfish-shaped lantern for him.

At the sight of it, Huo paused, not reaching out.

“Here—take it,” Luo urged. “I’m giving it to you.”

Only then did Huo accept the lantern.

“Let’s go get wontons? Smells good,” Luo suggested.

They’d skipped dinner—only mooncakes and crabs—so after a stroll, they were hungry.

“Alright.”

Holding the goldfish lantern, Huo followed behind Luo and the three kids.

Luo must have noticed how many times Huo had glanced at that lantern.

The childhood lantern someone had stomped and ruined—who knew it would return to his hands like this.

One big bowl of wontons each, and after eating and drinking their fill, they continued wandering; the streets were even more crowded now.

Passing a quieter stall, Luo spotted a familiar face.

“Isn’t that the scholar who often buys bowl cakes?”

Huo looked. “It’s him.”

“Shall we look? If there are any paintings we like, we could buy some for the walls.”

Usually, poor scholars who peddled art had real talent, and the price was often modest.

If he later ranked high in the exams, the paintings would rise in value.

Investment aside, snatching a few beautiful pieces cheaply was no worse than buying from big-name masters.

Huo had no objection. “Alright.”

They stepped up to the stall. The scholar glanced up, surprised to recognize them, but still asked, “Gentlemen, what would you like?”

“Paintings and calligraphy. Any landscapes? Or something with brighter colors—flashy and pretty.”

The scholar brought out two paintings: one landscape, and another of lotus blossoms with lush green leaves.

Luo didn’t understand painting—he just thought they were beautiful. “Nice. How much for these two?”

“Fifty copper coins each.”

Luo had asked at a bookshop before—those pieces started at a tael of silver and weren’t even as pretty as these.

“Deal. Got more?” If he liked them, he might as well buy a few.

Seeing his decisiveness, the scholar laid out other works.

So Luo added a winter plum painting and a maple forest scene.

Yuhui’s gaze drifted to a painting hanging in a corner.

It wasn’t striking, nor richly colored, but it held endless loneliness.

In a world of ice and snow, a thatched hut seemed nearly buried by thick drifts, yet it still stood firm.

After taking the silver and wrapping Luo’s paintings, the scholar noticed Yuhui transfixed by the snowscape. “Little brother, do you like that one?”

“Mm. It’s very good. Plain at first glance, but the mood is excellent. There’s a deep bleakness within.”

Yuhui silently marveled at the artist’s skill.

Snow was hard to paint—yet this one made the viewer feel present in the cold. Rare, indeed. He wondered when he himself might reach such a level.

He turned and asked, “Little Daddy, may I buy this one?”

Yuhui rarely asked for things, so Luo was surprised, then smiled. “Yes.”

He asked the scholar, “How much for this?”

The scholar looked at Yuhui. “Since the young master likes it—ten copper coins.”

Luo was startled. “That cheap?”

“Ten coins is just for mounting. It’s hung here half a month—rare to meet someone who truly loves it.”

If his family hadn’t been struggling, he would’ve given it free.

Of all his works, the snowscape was his favorite—but what one loved wasn’t always what others wanted to buy.

For livelihood, he had to cater to tastes and paint those richly colored pieces.

“Thank you,” Yuhui said earnestly.

The scholar smiled and rolled it carefully before handing it over.

Yuhui accepted it with both hands and cradled it with care.

As they were leaving, Huo said, “A sudden clearing after heavy snow—start over again.”

The scholar froze, then light returned to his eyes. He bowed deeply.

Luo, completely lost: “…”

A while later, Luo asked, “Why did he bow to you?”

Huo thought. “A sudden enlightenment?”

Luo was speechless.

Could encouragement like that really lift someone’s spirits?

Yuhui piped up, newly inspired. “Daddy was speaking to the hidden meaning in the painting.”

“…” Luo.

Fair enough—he didn’t understand painting and truly didn’t catch it.

Back home, they sat in a row in the courtyard, gazing at the big moon.

Rubbing his stomach, Luo asked, “Hungry?”

Yueyue poked her little belly to indicate: “Full.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Huo Xiang, “but I want to eat something.”

Like a mooncake…

Luo looked at Yuhui. “And you?”

A bit embarrassed, Yuhui said, “Hungry…”

“I’m hungry too. How about barbecue? There’s a big slab of pork belly.”

He nudged Huo’s foot.

Huo nudged back. “I’ll get the grill.”

“Alright.”

The couple stood to gather things.

Trotting after them, Xiang said, “Little Daddy, I want milk tea too.”

“Okay—pearls or no?”

“Pearls!”

Holding Yueyue’s hand, Yuhui followed behind them, a little envious of how freely Xiang could dote on their two dads.

With a big house of their own, there was no fear of disturbing neighbors—they could grill however they liked.

Tomato barbecue, peppercorn barbecue, eggplant barbecue, enoki mushroom barbecue…

They ate through the entire slab of pork belly as they chatted, washed down with bubble milk tea, and Luo felt life was truly wonderful.

After a rest and a wash, Luo lay down and guessed it was around ten. He saw Huo carefully storing the extinguished lantern, propped his chin on his hand, and teased, “Didn’t you say there weren’t any lanterns you liked?”

Setting it aside, Huo lay down and hugged him out of habit. “It’s not that I didn’t like any lanterns. I’m just used to liking nothing.”

Seeing Luo’s puzzlement, Huo said lightly, “When I was young, anything I liked would be snatched or destroyed. Once, I raised a black cat. That so-called brother cried to the adults and took it—then gutted it in front of me.”

“…He’s a beast,” Luo said.

Amused, Huo murmured, “Mm. A beast.”

After a while, Luo said, “In a few days, let’s buy a little black cat.”

Huo hugged him tighter. “Alright.”

He thought he’d never again have anything—or anyone—he especially liked. Then he met Luo Mingchen.

Luo had suffered just as much as a child, yet he often wore a smile—one that made others smile, too, without realizing why.