XNUM X night

Preface: "Beauty is close to madness, and you can die. The world has become the frame for the rest of his life, imprisoning the blooming flaming roses."

Sang Yintian is a white rose growing among the thorns.Beautiful, proud, turning the palette in her hand into a gardener's sickle hoe, smashing the double-sided mirror that imprisoned the dove.

He opened his eyes on a rainy night and became his own flaming rose.It's just that he paints with roses, but roses don't save him.

At 2 o'clock in the morning in Xicheng, the annual art exhibition was officially closed at the stipulated time. Those who came to visit stood on the side of the road for a long time and refused to leave, with reluctance buried in their eyes.

It has just rained for a few hours.The cedar tree outside the exhibition hall has been completely covered with a layer of tulle rendered by white mist.

The corridor on the second floor of the art museum is very empty, and an oil painting hangs on the wall every few meters.In one of them, the girl in the painting is holding a bouquet of roses in her left hand, and the torn petals are tightly held in the palm of her right hand. She covers her eyes, raises her head, and lets the white dove kiss her forehead.The end of the long white dress is dotted with blue stars.

She stood barefoot on a stretch of sand, with the sea behind her and a sky full of stars.

This is painted, and in the lower right corner of the painting, there is a string of English letters written.

【Sevati】

People who specialize in art probably have romance in their hearts. The letter "S" in the lower right corner of the oil painting is drawn very long, so that the excess black paint completely sticks to the edge of the frame.It’s messy, but it’s really tucked into the painting.

Everyone knows that this is Sang Yintian's painting.A young painter who completely integrated himself with art.

At this moment, Sang Yintian dragged the wooden bench with one hand and kept walking forward, even though there were two white scratches on the floor behind him, he still didn't care.He just leaned sideways against the glass window in front of him at last.Sang Yintian opened the window, and the strong smell of paint in the exhibition hall was blown away a lot.

"Brother Yintian, today's art exhibition is over, and we have finished our visit, should we go back now?" Assistant Xiaohan stood at the stairs on the second floor, staring at the back of the person in front of him fascinated.

It seems that since a long time ago, she has always seen such a familiar and lonely back.

"En." Sang Yintian just lowered his head and responded softly.

Sang Yintian, who had just turned 17 at the time, was admitted to the Rome Academy of Fine Arts by virtue of his innate painting talent and extreme creative ability in order to pursue his inner art palace.

Whenever people ask about it, he always laughs, and points the roses covered with paint on the huge drawing board.He said that he will become an excellent painter in the future, and he will go to many foreign places with his family, see the lights of every city, and then keep all the beauty of this world in his paintings.

The stars and roses are always free, and so is 17-year-old Sang Yintian.

But this kind of life didn't last long. Sang Yintian finally returned to the country, came to Xicheng alone, and opened his own small studio.

This year, Sang Yintian just turned 20 years old.

Xiaohan is not actually an artist, but she has longed for beautiful works of art since she was a child, and even disregarded her family's opposition, she took the initiative to come to Sang Yintian's small studio to apply for an assistant.She made all the preparations in advance, but none of them came into use.Because Sang Yintian only made three requests to her at that time.

"I don't want to be disturbed by anyone while I'm painting."

"Don't make any comments on my painting, even if it is really a very bad failure."

"The last point, don't worry too much about my private life, I'm used to being alone." Sang Yintian finally put down the paintbrush in his hand, raised his eyes, "If you can do it, I'll let you stay. In return , I can teach you how to draw, and I can also take you to see more art exhibitions."

Xiaohan froze in place, obviously the person in front of her was good-looking, with gentle eyebrows, the way she looked at her was like an endless stream in the forest after the rain, so affectionate that it was hard to move away just by looking at him open sight.

Xiaohan really stayed in the studio before seeing Sang Yintian's paintings.She nodded to the boy in front of her and bowed deeply. "Thank you, teacher."

"You can call me by my name directly, my name is Sang Yintian."

"Thank you, Sang... Yintian." Xiaohan seemed to have found a treasure, and picked up a branch of white roses that fell at Sang Yintian's feet.

The newly opened studio is really not well-known, two weeks have passed, and there are very few people who come to visit.Xiaohan watched Sang Yintian lock himself in the studio for several days, neither eating nor drinking, and finally made a mess all over his body.

She didn't think it was romantic at all.

But Sang Yintian finally created a painting of his own.

That day, Sang Yintian opened the door of the studio.The curtains of the studio were drawn, the white walls were already splashed with various colors of paint, and his white shirt was also dyed light green.

The white roses on the table were ordered by Xiaohan according to his request. Sang Yintian didn't give this bunch of flowers to anyone, but just lit all the rose petals with a blank expression, and watched them lose moisture and become withered , and finally he threw them all on the drawing board behind him.

Who says romance is always tender.Sang Yintian hides a kind of ruthlessness in his bones, so ruthless that no one dares to approach him.

There was a transparent circular fish tank on the window sill of the studio, but the goldfish inside had died a long time ago. At some point, Sang Yintian threw a few roses into it.

His face was stained with paint, dripping from the corners of his eyes to his collarbone.Xiaohan suddenly thought of the fairy tale she had read before, the tears of the mermaids can turn into pearls when they fall to the ground.But she saw countless fragments in Sang Yintian's eyes.

All his emotions were recorded there.

"Help me take a picture." Sang Yintian's voice was very low, and his eyes were still tightly closed.

"Okay." Xiaohan turned on the camera, hesitated for a few seconds and switched to recording video.

Sang Yintian threw all the roses into the painting bucket next to him. He was a little depressed and slumped on the white wooden ladder weakly.He hugged the transparent fish tank, and after the liquid in it swayed twice, Sang Yintian buried his whole face in it.

Xiaohan looked at the person in the camera, and stood there, motionless.She has never been in touch with painting and cannot understand art, but she knows that Sang Yintian in the camera is broken, desperate, and a landscape that is difficult to paint with a pen.

This painting is different from other ordinary oil paintings. It is not so much a painting as it is a set of photos plus a short video.In the photo, he is naked from the upper body, with blue and white paint mixed on his chest. It is a white rose blooming on his chest, with black dots on the petals, and then the whole rose is set off with bright red paint.His eyes were blurred, and his lips were covered with white paint.

After shooting the whole video, Sang Yintian turned his head and went into the bathroom next door.In fact, this small studio did not have a bathroom at the beginning, but Sang Yintian's painting method was different from others, and he made himself a mess every time.Taking advantage of Sang Yintian's absence, Xiaohan specially prepared a bathroom for him.

"What are you thinking?" Sang Yintian's voice interrupted her.

"Ah, no..." Xiaohan sniffed and stood up from the stool, "By the way, the video just shot can be processed a little later, the effect will be better, it can be used as a promotional video of our studio."

"Promotional video?" Ke Sang Yintian knew nothing except drawing.

"Yes, make a promotional video and post it on the Internet, so that everyone...no, let the whole world see your painting." Xiaohan lowered her head and pulled the progress bar of the video, and will not match the incomplete beauty of Sang Yintian. delete all.

"Whatever." Sang Yintian wiped his hair, "I don't understand these things, you can just figure it out for yourself. I'm going home to live today, and I probably won't come over in the next few days. I'll leave the studio to you first. "

When Sang Yintian left the studio, he turned around and added something.

"The group of paintings just now, I want to name them... called Flame Rose." Sang Yintian suddenly twitched the corner of his mouth, "A... a white rose that survives endlessly under the flames."

On the day the video and oil painting photos related to "Flaming Rose" were posted online, the number of reposts on major platforms exceeded one million.Many big Vs forwarded it one after another, and they left a message under this video, saying: "In this filthy, rotten and smelly world, Sang Yintian himself has become the only white."

In the 24th hour after the photo was released, Sang Yintian's Weibo fans directly exploded to 390 million.

In this illusory online world full of falsehoods, Sang Yintian's name is closely intertwined with "Flame Rose".

Just like him in the photo, rose vines intertwined with his naked body, and they were in love.

Later, the small studio was no longer a small studio, and Sang Yintian was no longer the original Sang Yintian.There are more and more visitors here, who appreciate Sang Yintian's talent and want to take home the paintings he created at a higher price.

But Sang Yintian refused. He said: "The reason why you can buy a rose you like in the flower shop is because someone has removed all the thorns on his body for you in advance."

Ke Sang Yintian had thorns on his body, but no one picked them off for him.

-

Sang Yintian came out of the annual art exhibition hall, stood on the side of the road and took a taxi for Xiaohan, and then went home alone.His home is in a high-end residential area close to the sea, and he can see the sea by walking southeast along the seaside path for 10 minutes.People who can live here, either have rich families, or like him, have souls that can sacrifice for art at any time, and Sang Yintian is just between these two kinds of people.

He was sitting at the table, shaking the goblet in his hand. In the early morning hours, the room was extremely quiet.

No, maybe not just in the early morning.No matter what time of day, the house is very quiet.

Sang Yintian turned on the computer and logged into the studio's Weibo.Among countless painted oil paintings, I found "Flame Rose" shot three years ago.There is also a small studio separated from the bedroom on the second floor of the house, but Sang Yintian hasn't opened that door for a long time.

He stared at the Western-style wall clock on the wall, and suddenly wanted to wait for the sunrise in this cold winter night, something he had never done before.Although a little crazy.

Sang Yintian went out with his sketchbook, and when the night wind came, he subconsciously put his left hand into his pocket, and gently rubbed the pencil with his fingertips.Soon, it was stained with ink.

The beach at 4 am was surprisingly quiet.The reef makes the dark night, and regards the stars as his embellishment.Sang Yintian found a relatively comfortable place to sit down, and took out a pencil from his pocket.

It's been so long since he moved to his new home, but this is the first time he has come here to see the sea.The waves rolled up the fine sand, and the fluorescent seaweed gradually moved further away.

"Huh..." Sang Yintian suddenly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.In the salty sea breeze, there was the smell of paint on his body.

It wasn't until the almost identical sea level appeared in the sketchbook that Sang Yintian suddenly realized that there was a person lying on the reef on the left.

He was taken aback.

He thought he was a lunatic in what others said, but he never expected to meet other lunatics here.

"Hello." Sang Yintian put down the drawing book in his hand, got up and approached slowly.

It was very dark here, and the only source of light was the dim streetlight far behind him.Sang Yintian couldn't see the people on the reef clearly, but he could hear the rapid breathing.

"Are you OK?"

"Ah, no..."

Apparently, it's a boy.

Sang Yintian didn't pay much attention, just sat down where he was.His hand touched the side unconsciously until it touched the boy's wrist and the gauze wrapped around it.Sang Yintian put his finger in front of his nose again and sniffed lightly.

It's the smell of blood.

Sang Yintian's fingertips trembled.But a painter's hand shouldn't shake.

"You are hurt?"

The boy didn't answer this time, but just moved further away.Sang Yintian could feel that he was avoiding him, like a hedgehog who likes to show all his thorns when he meets strangers.But Sang Yintian is not afraid, he himself has thorns.

"Hey."

"Uh..." The boy still didn't say a word, but he still took the initiative to stop.

"I'm here to paint." Sang Yintian said, "What about you?"

"Uh……"

"Are you here to see the sea? Or are you here to wait for the sunrise?" Sang Yintian raised his hand and pressed his ear, turning his head. "Or, is this actually the end of your world?"

The author says:

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First of all, thank you for waiting for so long, and finally decided to open this book in early summer, and the full text will be updated daily (don’t worry about pitfalls), and will be updated according to the situation.And the most important point, Sangsang is the text of Shou, Double Redemption.

A brief summary of Sang Yintian's usual painting methods: he personally likes to use a rose as his brush, and most of the canvases are too large in size.

Therefore, the background color is usually poured directly on the paint, and the auxiliary tools include a painting knife, a flame, and finally a hook to refine the shape.