Chapter 11: Taking Wing

After reaching a partnership agreement with Duan Yongzhou, Zhou Mo received her first task: to enter an international competition in May.

If she wanted to turn professional, this was a step she had to take.

Ever since she received the competition notice, she had been losing sleep and appetite. The lingering shadow of her childhood defeat hung relentlessly over her heart.

She tried picking up her brush, but as expected, her work turned out overly formulaic and rigid. She couldn’t let something like this serve as the first calling card^[1] of her professional career.

Zhou Mo attended classes during the day and painted at night, yet after several days in a row, her mind remained even emptier than her canvas.

Learning of her situation, Duan Yongzhou was quite worried, so he came to the Zhou family home specifically to take Zhou Mo out to clear her head.

All this time, Tang Shulan hadn’t loosened her surveillance of Zhou Mo, but the recent state of affairs brought her much relief. Lately, Zhou Mo hadn’t contacted He Chong even once. She was convinced that Zhou Mo had simply been led astray by him and was now essentially back on the right track.

Seeing Zhou Mo behave so obediently, Tang Shulan felt at ease handing her over to Duan Yongzhou.

In March, Xicheng saw endless rain without a single sunny day, like a cold that kept coming back. Today, the rain had finally stopped, but a heavy fog set in, turning as far as the eye could see into a vast, misty blur.

Zhou Mo didn’t say a word after getting into the car. Duan Yongzhou looked at her with concern. “Are you under a lot of pressure?”

Zhou Mo nodded, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t paint,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“If you keep locking yourself up at home, of course you won’t be able to paint. I’ll take you out of town for a drive.” Duan Yongzhou paused. “Do you want to see He Chong?”

Zhou Mo froze.

He Chong. Right now, he existed only in her sketchbooks and her dreams. She could barely even remember what the real He Chong was like anymore.

“I can’t see him. Not before I accomplish something. That’s also what I promised you: before you step in to help He Chong’s garment factory, I have to prove my worth to you first.”

“You don’t need to be so rigid. I’m already discussing a collaboration plan with headquarters, and we’ll be reaching out to He Chong before long. Don’t rush, either. Even if you miss this competition…”

Zhou Mo hastily shook her head. “Didn’t you say you’re a profit-driven businessman? If you indulge me this much, be careful you don’t lose your investment.”

Duan Yongzhou offered a faint smile. “Well, if you really can’t draw, it’s not like I can force your head down to make you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Inspiration strikes when you least expect it. Trust me. Are you really not planning to see He Chong? Don’t worry, I’m willing to play lookout for the two of you.”

Zhou Mo opened the window. The wind blew the mist against her face, bringing a subtle tickle.

She believed that the moment she saw He Chong, she would turn back into a three-year-old child crying uncontrollably over a tiny scratch. But she couldn’t cry now, and she certainly couldn’t keep relying on him.

She had heard that when a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly, it undergoes unimaginable pain. If it gives up, it remains trapped in its cocoon forever until death.

Zhou Mo suddenly said, “There’s somewhere I want to go. Could you drive me there?”

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped near a pedestrian street. Duan Yongzhou didn’t pry. Pointing to a cafe across the street, he said, “I’ll wait for you over there. Come find me when you’re done.”

Zhou Mo got out of the car, crossed the pedestrian street, and turned into a small alley.

This entire alley was lined with small clothing shops, interspersed with a few selling cosmetics and trinkets. Pretty shopkeepers with influencer-style looks sat behind counters playing on their phones, occasionally tossing out a half-hearted “Come take a look.” The colorful shop signs hung old and faded.

Zhou Mo stepped carefully, avoiding puddles of water in the potholes. After walking halfway down the street, she stopped under a sign. She looked up, hesitated for a moment, and stepped into a narrow doorway between two storefronts.

The staircase was narrow and dim, barely wide enough for one person to pass through. A musty smell hung in the air, and the walls on both sides were plastered with small flyers for fake IDs and tax invoices.

Zhou Mo paused, took a deep breath, and continued upstairs. The unfamiliar surroundings made her want to turn back several times, but in the end, she conquered her fear and pressed forward, holding her breath.

Reaching the third floor, she stopped and raised her hand to knock. But after a split second of hesitation, she pulled her hand back.

Right at that moment, the door suddenly swung open. Zhou Mo took a step back in surprise, startling the person inside as well.

It was a girl dressed in a distinctly punk style. After a moment of surprise, she smiled and asked, “Here for a tattoo?” Compared to her avant-garde outfit, her voice sounded remarkably gentle.

Zhou Mo nodded.

“Go on in and take a seat for a couple of minutes. I’m going downstairs to grab something. I’ll be right back.” The girl stepped out through the doorway, turning sideways to let Zhou Mo inside.

Zhou Mo hesitantly walked into the room and looked around. To her surprise, it was quite tidy inside, carrying a faint scent of disinfectant. A tall cabinet stood against the wall, packed to the brim with CD jewel cases. Layers of posters covered the walls, all depicting rock stars.

Zhou Mo sat down on a wooden chair near the door.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and the girl returned. She glanced at Zhou Mo and smiled. “No need to be so stiff, it’s just the two of us here. Listen to some music first. Want something to drink?” Before Zhou Mo could answer, she turned on the stereo, filling the narrow space with the sound of Led Zeppelin. Opening a mini-fridge, the girl pulled out a cold can of Coke, handed it to Zhou Mo, and sat down on a small bed. “Did someone recommend me to you?”

“I’m from Xida Art Academy too. I heard from… from a friend that…”

“That my work is good?”

Zhou Mo nodded.

The girl smiled. “What year are you in?”

“Second year.”

“Then I guess I’m your senior.” The girl asked, “What do you want tattooed? Any specific ideas?”

“A single character.”

The girl grabbed a pen and paper from the cabinet and handed them to Zhou Mo. As Zhou Mo wrote, she leaned in to look. Smiling, she said, “A name? Have you thought this through? If you regret it later, laser removal hurts way more than getting tattooed.”

This was the first time Zhou Mo had been so resolute since stepping onto this street. “I won’t regret it.”

The girl took the paper and pen, thought for a moment, and said, “Let me work out a design. Have a seat for now.” She pulled over a stool, sat down at the desk, and clicked on the desk lamp.

As she waited, Zhou Mo was by turns anxious and relieved. Her emotions ebbed and flowed, cold sweat pooling in the lines of her palms.

Before she knew how much time had passed, the girl said, “All done.” She pulled back her chair, stretched out her arm, and handed the paper to Zhou Mo. “Take a look. What do you think?”

The overall design was a butterfly. The two dots on the left of the character “Chong^[2]” had been transformed into the stamens of a flower, the vertical stroke on the right formed the butterfly’s body, and the two box components divided by the stroke became its wings. True to her background as a student at the Xida Academy of Fine Arts, the girl’s design was bold yet harmonious, without a trace of vulgarity. The delicate butterfly was lifelike, looking as though it might leap right off the paper.

Zhou Mo felt a stir in her heart. “I love it.”

The girl smiled and said, “So we’ll go with this design then? Where would you like it?”

“I…” Zhou Mo pursed her lips and looked down at herself.

“How about here?” The girl pointed to the first vertebra at the base of her own neck. “You won’t see it when your hair is down, but when you tie it up, showing it off will look really nice.”

“Let’s do it there then. Will it hurt?”

“Of course it will hurt, but when in life does it not hurt?” The girl looked at her with a gentle gaze, seemingly accustomed to hesitant and vulnerable clients like her. “Take ten more minutes to think about it. If you still decide to go through with it, I’ll start work.”

“I don’t need to think…”

“No, take ten minutes and really think it through. A tattoo is a totem, and all totems carry meaning, whether as a tribute, a faith, or a remembrance.” The girl sat back down at the desk, picked up her phone, and paid no more attention to Zhou Mo.

Zhou Mo lowered her head, her hands resting on her knees slowly tightening into fists.

She was drawn to He Chong like a blindfolded person longing for light; his aura of freedom was something she could never forget.

Yet in the end, her own hesitation had instead become his only constraint.

Looking back on everything she had shared with He Chong, she finally realized that he had always acted as a protector, indulging her childishness and recklessness, whether it was her ridiculous “bad deeds list” or her reckless plea to “take me away” when she felt so wronged.

However, a dynamic of protector and protected was not the relationship she longed for. She preferred to be the lighthouse guiding him home when he journeyed far, undaunted by fog, unafraid of wind and rain.

Zhou Mo raised her head and said clearly, word by word, “I’ve made up my mind.”

Duan Yongzhou had refilled his cup several times. Just as he was about to lose his patience, he finally spotted Zhou Mo. Unlike her hesitant steps on the way there, she crossed the street now with her back straight, walking as if carrying the wind with her.

Duan Yongzhou immediately stood up and walked out of the cafe.

Under the eaves of the cafe, Zhou Mo came to a stop. On her face, wet with fine rain, her eyes were strikingly bright, as if a fire burned within them. She looked at Duan Yongzhou and said eagerly, full of anticipation, “I want to paint.”

Zhou Mo was driven home by Duan Yongzhou. Upon entering, she paid no mind to Tang Shulan’s inquiries and headed straight for her studio.

Tang Shulan chased after her. “Momo, I’m talking to you…”

Zhou Mo slammed the door shut with a loud bang and shouted, “Don’t disturb me!”

She locked the door, took off her coat, and urgently pulled her paint box over. Tang Shulan was still knocking and scolding outside, but Zhou Mo soon couldn’t hear it anymore. She couldn’t hear any sound at all.

Mixing colors, lifting the brush… Zhou Mo moved cleanly and decisively, without a shred of hesitation.

The tattoo on her neck was still aching dully, but the pain only made her mind extraordinarily sharp. Over and over, she recalled how it had felt that afternoon in that unfamiliar space, as the needle pricked into her skin bit by bit.

Pain and awakening always went hand in hand.

Time flowed silently by as eight o’clock, nine o’clock, and ten o’clock passed…

It was not until midnight that Zhou Mo finally felt tired.

She set down her paintbrush for a moment, sat on the floor, pulled a bottle of mineral water from a cardboard box resting against the wall, unscrewed it, and took a deep gulp.

Leaning back against the floor-to-ceiling window, she glanced outside, remembering how He Chong had stood in the tree-shaded darkness that night, pressing his clenched fist against his heart like a knight offering his life and loyalty to a princess.

Zhou Mo felt sleepy. She intended to rest for just a bit before continuing, but unexpectedly fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.

She didn’t know how long she slept, only that she had a dream.

She was sinking continuously into darkness, desperate to grab onto something, but her outstretched hands touched only a darkness deeper than before. Panic seized her. She waved her arms frantically and opened her mouth to shout, but no one responded.

With a sudden jerk of her leg, Zhou Mo woke up.

She opened her eyes in confusion and saw a beam of white light cast across her arm. Dazed, she thought it was snow, but when she reached out to touch it, she realized the moon had come out.

Feeling a bit hungry, Zhou Mo scrambled up from the floor and glanced at the wall clock. It was already past one in the morning. She stretched, walked to the studio door, and was about to open it when she heard an argument outside.

Afraid of stepping out and getting caught in the crossfire of a fight between Zhou Sipei and Tang Shulan, Zhou Mo hesitated for a moment and decided to wait. She pressed her ear against the door to listen, only to discover that the people arguing weren’t Zhou Sipei and Tang Shulan. That sharp, grating female voice clearly belonged to Gu Zhiru.

Zhou Sipei said, “Underhanded tactics like yours make me disdain to associate with you ever again!”

Gu Zhiru retorted, “I did just as you said! I bribed that guy Yan, and I bought off those money-grubbing vendors! And what came of it? To deal with someone like He Chong, you have to use tough methods and teach him a hard lesson! For the past six months, he’s been leading me around by the nose. I refuse to tolerate this humiliation any longer!”

Zhou Sipei sneered. “And now that you’ve injured him so badly he’s in the hospital, have you achieved your goal? You still don’t understand the unyielding types born into low environments like theirs…”

A chill ran down Zhou Mo’s spine, her hands trembling. Without a second thought, she flung open the door and shouted, “What did you do to He Chong?”

The lights were bright in the living room, and all three of them whipped their heads toward her.

Tang Shulan had almost forgotten Zhou Mo was still in the art studio. She snapped immediately, “This is adult business! What does it have to do with a child like you? Go upstairs to sleep!”

“You went after He Chong, didn’t you?” Zhou Mo trembled all over with rage. “And Sun Qi’s matter, the garment factory matter… those were all traps you set, weren’t they?”

Zhou Sipei was deeply displeased. “Zhou Mo, get your ass upstairs!”

“You…” Zhou Mo raised a finger, pointing at the three of them. “You’re truly disgusting!”

Zhou Mo was so furious the blood vessels in her head felt ready to burst. She charged forward, barging right through the three of them standing together, and ran frantically toward the front door.

Tang Shulan reacted quickly, grabbing her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Let go of me!”

“Zhou Rong, let me tell you, it’s not your place to throw a tantrum here! Go upstairs and go to sleep like you’re told!”

Zhou Sipei didn’t even blink; he slapped Zhou Mo right across the face.

A loud ringing echoed in Zhou Mo’s head, and blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Yet she gritted her teeth, refusing to yield an inch. “Either give me a taste of your punishment too, or lock me up in this house for the rest of my life! Otherwise, I will expose every dirty trick you used to persecute an innocent person!”

Gu Zhiru couldn’t contain herself. “He’s innocent? He’s shameless, embezzling the Gu family’s property…”

“But she was properly wed^[3] by Grandpa Gu, and she’s your legal stepmother!” Zhou Mo had never known that speaking the truth could feel so liberating.

“Zhou Mo, just try speaking out of turn again!” Tang Shulan tugged hard and shoved Zhou Mo back. “You have no right to stand here showing such disrespect to your elders!”

Zhou Mo stumbled back two paces, bumping into a display shelf in the living room. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a paring knife resting on the shelf. She grabbed it immediately, holding it tight. “Get out of my way!”

Tang Shulan stepped forward to grab Zhou Mo. Suddenly, Zhou Mo flipped the paring knife around, aiming the blade directly at the fingers of her right hand. “Don’t come any closer!”

Tang Shulan froze instantly.

Zhou Mo knew she had seized her parents’ weak spot. They had spent twenty years raising her to be a high-society lady, constantly playing up her image as an artist. If anything happened to her hands, all their painstaking effort would go down the drain.

Taking advantage of Tang Shulan’s hesitation, Zhou Mo rushed to open the front door. Just as she was about to step out, a thought struck her. Holding the knife steady, she backed up step by step toward the studio.

She unmounted her unfinished painting from the easel, tucked it under her arm, and raised the knife again, walking step by step toward the front door. Her gaze held a ruthless determination she had never possessed before, like a cornered beast making its final stand.

Under the eyes of all three, Zhou Mo walked out the front door of the Zhou family residence.

Outside, the cold moonlight spilled over her like a layer of pure white frost.

Turbulent emotions crashed inside her like waves against stone, threatening to drag her down into a surging abyss. She sniffled, clutched the wet canvas board, and bolted into the moonlight, sprinting past the front gate.

Her heart throbbed with a pain so intense it felt ready to burst. As she ran, tears fell like rain.

She raised a hand to wipe her tears, the tattoo on her neck burning with a searing pain, as though branded by a red-hot iron.

He Chong… He Chong… She called out to her faith in her heart. The painting in her arms, the road ahead: this was her entire world.

Beneath the moonlight, Zhou Mo stumbled forward, the canvas held in her arms like a sail raised high, carrying her toward the other shore.

Where wild waves crashed, where freedom lay, and where her knight fought for her.