Of course, for Chiang Xiao, she guessed that only natural scenery of this era would look attractive—the architectural beauty was reserved for ancient buildings like The Forbidden City. Otherwise, the houses in the county town were nothing special to look at.
She quickly arrived at the Wangnong Street mentioned by the ticket seller. As soon as she got off the bus, Chiang Xiao saw a four-story building with a sign hanging on the wall that read Wangnong Street Guesthouse.
It turned out to be quite easy to find.
Upon entering the guesthouse, Chiang Xiao saw only a head peeking out from behind the J-shaped front desk. Opposite the front desk was a whitewashed wall with a painting hanging on it. Her attention was immediately drawn to the painting.
It was a depiction of blooming prosperity.
But in Chiang Xiao’s opinion, the quality of the painting was very poor. The flowers were gaudily rendered without any spiritual energy, the colors were applied too thickly, making it seem old-fashioned and stuffy, and moreover, it failed to evoke the warm feeling it was supposed to.
She shook her head as she looked.
At that moment, a voice came from behind her, "What’s the matter, young lady? Don’t you painting?"
Chiang Xiao turned around and saw an old man, about sixty years old, resting on a cane in one hand and holding a paper folding fan in the other, smiling at her.
The old man was dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and black trousers, with a wristwatch on his wrist, looking quite refined.
Being more cautious now, Chiang Xiao was reluctant to casually comment on someone else’s possession when in a strange place, meeting people she did not know. So she just smiled and said, "Hello, Big Master."
"What’s the matter, is the young lady too shy to critique? But when I saw how you were appreciating the painting just now, it didn’t seem like you couldn’t understand it. Are you schooled in art?"
Chiang Xiao thought she had to speak her mind, or this "Big Master" would not let it go easily, so she told the truth.
"Indeed, I don’t really painting. It’s rather poorly done."
"Poorly done? What exactly is the problem?"
"The flowers are voluptuous, the colors are too heavy, and it gives a sense of oppression rather than wealth and honor."
If she could say it, her true assessment was that it was as oppressive as the backdrop props in a horror film.
Unfortunately, this painting took up half of the wall space. The heavy, thick ink, dark and red colors assaulted the viewer, making it hard to relax, and thus, she really had an unpleasant feeling standing here.
The old man paused, apparently hearing this assessment for the first time.
Just then, the person behind the front desk stood up and looking over, interjected, "Could it be that because of this painting, our business has gotten worse?"
Chiang Xiao turned to look and saw a middle-aged woman with fashionable short hair, who seemed to bear some resemblance to the old man—perhaps his daughter—but Chiang Xiao didn’t address her comment.
Business getting worse because of this painting?
The old man pondered, "That possibility isn’t excluded."
Chiang Xiao was taken aback.
The middle-aged woman waved at Chiang Xiao, "Young lady, you wouldn’t happen to be here to stay, would you?"
"I’m here to stay," replied Chiang Xiao, but her mind was on the conversation that just took place, secretly astonished. In fact, if it weren’t for the bus ticket seller’s recommendation, seeing this painting might have indeed prompted her to consider leaving to find another place to stay.
First impressions are very important.
While the painting was titled Blooming Prosperity, the use of colors was genuinely bizarre, heavy and rich to the point of being oppressive, making one overlook the other decorations of the guesthouse. It could easily lead visitors to feel that the rooms themselves might be oppressive and stuffy as well.