Ansel then took her to visit his father’s studio, a few spacious rooms filled with paintings. Yes, filled, not just hung. All of his father’s works from over the years were there, including some award-winning pieces. Just the raw materials alone were worth millions. Studying art was truly an expensive endeavor.
As Ansel introduced the background of certain paintings, the girl listened attentively and provided her own precise analysis. To Ansel, Susan Clark, despite her youth, had a certain talent for painting and could understand the essence his father aimed to convey.
Through their interaction today, Ansel developed a better impression of this girl who resembled Agnes. He continued to show her around, learning and exchanging thoughts until evening approached.
The beautiful sunset reflected on the lake and enveloped the mountains. For a painter, it was a scene worth capturing. Ansel hadn’t finished introducing everything when night fell quickly. Susan was still very interested in what she heard.
“I’m sorry for taking up your time,” Ansel said, looking at the girl in front of him. “You originally came here to find a place for sketching, but I ended up telling you so much.”
Susan felt a bit embarrassed and quickly responded, “Mr. Johnsons, please don’t say that. I was completely engrossed and feel like I’ve learned a lot today. I need to digest it all and always strive for excellence.”
Ansel smiled and asked, “Would you like to have a simple dinner here? I’ll take you down the mountain after we eat.”
The girl was pleasantly surprised and momentarily forgot to answer as she looked at him with bright eyes.
Ansel thought his enthusiasm might have scared her, considering it was late and they were alone on the mountain. He smiled and explained, “I just thought it’s getting late, and it takes an hour to get down the mountain. It’s not good for girls to go hungry for too long.”
“Okay,” the girl cherished this opportunity. “I’ll help you cook. I can cook too.”
Seeing that she wasn’t upset, Ansel breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, “Alright.”
Ansel proposed making a simple dinner there, and Susan helped in the kitchen. They worked together like a young couple, cooperating seamlessly. He cooked while she assisted him. Although the dishes were simple, Susan found them delicious because they made them together.
Ansel set up the dining table outside. On the mountain, it was easier to see the stars, and tonight’s moon was particularly beautiful, casting soft and bright light.
They had tomato scrambled eggs, shredded potatoes, stir-fried meat with chili peppers, and two bowls of white rice. They ate their simple dinner in the yard in front of the studio, listening to the sounds of insects and birds while chatting about everyday life. Their relationship unknowingly grew closer.
While eating, Ansel talked about his childhood. “I actually didn’t like painting at all when I was little.”
“You didn’t?” The girl was surprised.
Ansel smiled and said, “Yes, my father forced me to learn painting. Since I could remember, he gave me a topic every day to paint as if it were an essay assignment from a language teacher. I really resisted it; painting felt like a burden to me.”
Susan suddenly felt sorry for his childhood self; his childhood must have been stressful.
Ansel continued sharing that since he could remember, this studio had existed and had hosted countless friends of his father over the years, even some well-known writers.
Susan listened attentively. In terms of personality, she indeed had similarities with Agnes-quiet and willing to listen.
There were moments when Ansel found himself staring into her light amber eyes…