“Oh, really?”
“Then I’m curious—what exactly sets Monet’s original apart from the other forgeries?”
“I heard that this time the Director of the Art Museum showcased the genuine piece they repurchased at a high price. I suppose it must be the painting right in front of us?”
Bai Huizi’s gaze shifted toward the painting on the wall before them.
“The Parasol Woman” is one of Impressionism master Claude Monet’s representative works, created in 1875.
This painting features Monet’s first wife Camille and their son Jean as models, capturing a fleeting moment of mother and child outdoors in a summer breeze.
Monet used quick, loose brushstrokes to express the flow of sunlight piercing through clouds.
Camille’s skirt and the white parasol billow in the wind, while the colors of the grass and sky blend into a shimmering pattern of light.
This sense of “unfinishedness” is precisely what defined Impressionism’s break from traditional oil painting.
The figures are presented from a low angle; Camille seems to lean back slightly against the wind, the tilted parasol shading part of the sunlight, creating a dynamic composition.
This off-balance perspective makes viewers feel as if they are right there, sensing the force of the wind.
On the original, the paint layers on Camille’s skirt show Monet’s unique “wet-on-wet” layering technique, whereas forgeries often lose the vitality of brushwork due to over-refinement.
The genuine clouds use zinc white pigment, which yellows with age, while modern replicas tend to use titanium white that remains glaringly bright.
As for the one you bought, though I haven’t seen it, it’s definitely full of flaws. I doubt a fake could ever replicate the very sigh of the wind itself.
Shen Cishu spoke about art as if listing treasures, her disdainful gaze flickering toward Bai Huizi standing beside her, as if Bai Huizi were a bumpkin newly arrived from the countryside.
She didn’t believe her sister could understand such matters.
Merely to feign sophistication, she’d brought a forgery.
And those who visited her sister’s home probably couldn’t tell genuine from fake either.
But people in her sister’s circle didn’t care whether the piece was authentic or not.
Thinking this, Shen Cishu looked at Bai Huizi with even more contempt.
She felt today’s outing had been unlucky.
She had been in good spirits at the news of an original Monet surfacing, but after meeting Bai Huizi, all that was ruined.
“Then why do you believe this painting is definitely genuine?”
Bai Huizi asked, still curious.
Shen Cishu’s eyes narrowed with greater disdain.
Just talking to Bai Huizi seemed a waste of breath.
“Because it’s authentic. Didn’t you see the certification from three major institutions—the Artist Foundation, the International Council of Museums (ICOM) with five independent experts, and the Harvard University Art Laboratory’s comparative analysis?”
As she spoke, Shen Cishu shifted her feet, as if even stepping closer to Bai Huizi might taint her with vulgarity.
“Oh? If you hadn’t told me, I might never have known.”
Bai Huizi smiled warmly at Shen Cishu.
For some reason, seeing Bai Huizi’s gentle smile stirred a strong wave of disgust in Shen Cishu’s heart.
“Don’t imitate Mother by putting on such a gentle expression. We both know exactly what kind of person you are.”
Shen Cishu spat out, hating Bai Huizi’s demeanor.
She hated even more how Bai Huizi sullied their mother’s memory.
“Sometimes I think you’re truly pitiful.”
“No matter how hard you chase art, what good does it do? Trying to make yourself appear refined and noble—what good does that do?”
“Although you were born standing at a finish line others spend their lives chasing.”
“Your actions only prove that everything you do is wrong.”
“You always think you’re superior, that I don’t understand, but…”
Bai Huizi watched Shen Cishu’s wary gaze with a faint smile still lingering.
“This painting is one I bought myself.”
She said this as she pulled out a stack of documents from her bag.
Shen Cishu’s frown deepened.
She was beginning to grasp Bai Huizi’s true intention.
Bai Huizi produced a batch of auction house transaction certificates.
“Oh, I remember I brought the confirmation receipt for this painting. Where did I put it?”
Bai Huizi murmured to herself, oblivious to the change in Shen Cishu’s expression.
Shen Cishu naturally noticed the other certificates Bai Huizi held—the originals of several other pieces in the gallery.
Only now did Shen Cishu realize Bai Huizi’s true aim.
From the start, upon hearing about the Art Museum in S City housing many masters’ originals, she had fallen into Bai Huizi’s trap.
Those mocking words she had aimed at Bai Huizi now felt like a heavy slap to her own face.
No matter how much she understood these masterpieces, what did it matter?
In the end, the genuine artworks belonged in Bai Huizi’s hands.
And the art Shen Cishu cared so much about was being utterly defiled by someone so crude as Bai Huizi.
Bai Huizi quietly studied Shen Cishu’s expression, still smiling gently, as if none of this mattered.
“My dear sister, isn’t this such a pitiful situation?”
“For a genuine piece like this, you probably couldn’t afford it no matter how hard you worked your entire life.”
“Do you know how ridiculous I found your earnest gaze chasing after art?”
“Like a poor beggar eyeing the keys to my family’s car.”
“You think your lofty art means everything, but to me, it’s nothing.”
Bai Huizi spoke calmly, sensing she had somehow adopted Su Li’s serene demeanor.
It did seem laughable.
After all, it was Shen Cishu who had forced their mother to take her to the Art Museum, yet Bai Huizi was the one who opened it.
And she was going to mock Shen Cishu mercilessly.
Mock her little sister.
Wasn’t opening an Art Museum her sister’s dream?
But in the end, it wasn’t Shen Cishu who achieved it.
“I recall a friend who dreamed of opening an Art Museum.”
“But she’s about to become a Teacher recently. I wonder if she’s still holding on to that dream.”
Bai Huizi feigned casualness.
Shen Cishu clenched her fists tightly.
It was obvious who that friend her sister spoke of was.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to answer Bai Huizi directly.
She wasn’t even sure anymore… if she was still holding on to that dream herself.