narrow red

Kuang Zheng was in good spirits, changed his hairstyle, picked out a brightly colored suit, and strode into Wanrong Zhenhui with his head held high.

Once this coquettish, stylish and capable boss is in place, the atmosphere of the whole company will be different immediately. The account managers have their hair cut and their suits cut, and the waitresses all stand upright on six or seven-inch high heels. Vibrant weather.

Kuang Zheng glanced at the office area habitually, and unexpectedly saw Wang Youcheng wearing golden eyes next to Duan Zhao. He was supposed to report after the festival, and the official transfer order has not yet been issued. It can be seen that he attaches great importance to this position, and he is rarely seen wearing a dazzling suit His blue suit made his face even whiter.

"Sir, I'm sorry..." The reception lady's voice came from behind.

Looking back, Kuang Zheng saw a shabby figure standing at the resplendent gate, wearing a long down jacket in a black suit that has remained unchanged for 800 years, and it was the bitter voice of opening a "small workshop of [-] square meters".

Seeing him, Kuangzheng remembered: "Golden Knife," Duan Zhao got up immediately when he called out, "Has the feasibility report that I asked you to do come out?"

"Come out," Duan Zhao is also wearing a good suit, gentle light gray, with a high waist, which complements his elegance and sophistication, "Send it to your email right away."

Kuangzheng nodded in satisfaction, walked in, and called out bitterly from behind: "I'm looking for him! I'm looking for him!"

"Sorry, sir," the receptionist stopped him, "We are very busy, do you have an appointment?"

Hearing his surname Kuang, Tan bitterly shouted, "Boss Kuang! I'm looking for you, Boss Kuang!"

Kuang Zheng didn't stop, he wouldn't give a chance to someone who refuted his face twice in a row, not to mention that guy only has a poor painter, a leather bag company and a rented studio in his hands, he has no value of being forgiven.

"I regret it!" Tan Ku suddenly yelled in the crowd, "I'm fucking blind! I can't see Mount Tai! I deserve to run back and beg you! I...I'll kneel down and sing Conquer for you!"

Kuang Zheng paused, turned around, put his hands in his pockets, and held his head arrogantly.

"Mr. Kuang..." Tan Kuang was about ten meters away from him, his nervous face finally looked a little humble, it was the pressure of survival that made him bow his head, "Give me a chance."

Kuang was expressionless and waved to the receptionist.

"Give me 5 minutes..." Tan Kusheng said this to the G&S staff.

Kuang Zheng wanted to hear something new.

"A very talented painter..." He also said this. Being an artist's agent is nothing but useless arrogance and boring sales.

"Sing "Conquer," Kuang Zheng said, "don't kneel down, just stand up and sing."

What... Tan Kusheng's face turned blue. This was clearly a humiliation, a revenge for his previous contempt. He should walk away and say "no" to this bunch of savages who have a lot of money in their hands.But then, go back to the hut where his rent is about to expire, and make a bowl of old Tan sauerkraut noodles like yesterday?

Everyone in the lobby was staring at him, wanting to see how angry he was and how he would retreat. Unexpectedly, he wiped his face, took out his mobile phone from the pocket of his down jacket, searched for the lyrics, held it up in front of him, took a deep breath, and sang loudly: "Just Being conquered by you like this cut off all escape routes!"

Everyone present was stunned and looked at him like an idiot. To be honest, he sang well, with his own lethality x10 depression and affection.

"I was conquered by you just like that!" Tan bitterly went all out, clenched his fists and closed his eyes, and sang with emotion, "Drink the poison you have hidden, my plot is over, and my love and hatred are buried!"

Xia Ke came up from behind and grabbed Duan Zhao's shoulder: "What's the matter with this kid, is the boss hanging him outside?"

What he said made Wang Youcheng look over in surprise.

"I said," it's no wonder that Xia Ke is unbalanced, singing conquest to the boss in the company's front hall, and it will become a good story in the future, "Isn't it enough that the boss has us? Why do you provoke fans everywhere!"

"Don't talk nonsense," Duan Zhao pulled his paw, "The boss already has someone."

"What!" Xia Ke's eyes widened, "Who, who, do I know?"

Duan Zhao gave him a white look, noticed Wang Youcheng's gaze, and stared at him warily: "What are you looking at?"

Wang Youcheng was very comfortable, leaning on the back of the seat, smiling in his pupils behind the gold-rimmed glasses, and said in a low voice, "Manager Duan is indeed Mr. Kuang's confidant."

Duan Zhao liked the word "confidant", and unconsciously followed his words and asked, "Why?"

But Wang Youcheng shook his head: "It's nothing, I'll ask Manager Duan to teach me more in the future."

"You sang well," Kuang Zheng slapped his hands twice, smiled modestly, and raised his finger towards Tan Kusheng, "Come on, tell me about your artist."

He naturally wanted to call Duan Zhao: "Golden Knife." The moment he turned around, Wang Youcheng's pale face came into view, "Dacheng, you come too."

The four of them went up to the second floor, opened a VIP room randomly, sat down around the table, and lit a cigarette. In the light smoke, Duan Zhao spoke for him: "Mr. Qin, you can start now."

Tan bitterly took off his down jacket, took out something from his suit pocket and corrected it. It was a small Polaroid photo, not very clear, with a pink rooster in the middle of the picture.

WTF?This was Kuang Zheng's first impression, and he handed the photo to Wang Youcheng. Wang Youcheng didn't know much about art, so he frowned and gave the photo to Duan Zhao.

Duan Zhao didn't think much of Tan Kusheng, so he took it casually, didn't bother to look at it, just glanced at it, and then his eyes froze: "Are there any more?" He stared at the photo and asked, "The one with larger pixels."

"No," Tan Kusheng replied simply, "Visual art is too easy to be plagiarized. I can only say that the original painting is much more exciting than the photo, and the texture is very gorgeous."

Duan Zhao is a student of art collection and trading. He can tell a painting, a sculpture, or a set of installations at a glance. The painter in Tan Kusheng's hand has money.

But he didn't show it on his face, he stretched his legs under the table towards Kuangzheng, with Wang Youcheng in the middle, he gave him a knife-like look, and gave Kuangzheng a wink.

After receiving the signal, Kuangzheng put out the cigarette, and asked Tan bitterly, "Why do you want to find a private bank?"

"Such a good painting," Tan Kusheng took back the photo, "It's too bad to sell it for tens of thousands," he smiled wryly, "But in the current art circle, exhibitions cost hundreds of thousands, and reviews cost tens of thousands. Magazines , TV, and Weibo hot searches are all big expenses, and I can't afford to fry this pink chicken by myself."

Pink Chicken, a very recognizable label, Kuangzheng is sensitively aware that this concept is worth doing: "You want to use my resources to fire your painter, who will give you face?"

He spoke very impolitely, and Tan bitterly gritted his teeth and endured it: "I have a [-]-square-meter studio, and the lease expires next week. I have been eating instant noodles for the past half month. If there is no cooperation, I don't even have instant noodles." Gotta eat."

"There is no food," Kuang Zheng sneered, and continued to discourage him, "Selling paintings, tens of thousands is money."

Tan Ku made no sound.

"It can't be sold," Duan Zhao answered for him. "This kind of pure art painting is worthless in the low-end market. The common people only recognize landscape paintings and beauties."

Maybe it's the resentment that has been suppressed for a long time, or maybe it's the pain of being "worthless", "Yes..." Tan Ku said with a trembling throat, "No one wants this chicken at the Erlu Art Market for 500 yuan!"

He raised his eyes, and the depressed and fragile nervousness came back again: "But this is a work of art," he looked directly at Kuang Zheng, "it is a work of art that is not inferior to the world, just because we have no money, If you can't hold exhibitions and lack exposure, you have to crush your talents and sell them cheaply, which is not fair!"

Isn't it fair?On the contrary, Kuang Zheng thought it was fair. He studied finance and knew that an effective price was never determined by the seller, but by the market.What this kid needs now is not understanding and sympathy, but to drop his useless arrogance, come down from the midair of that shitty artist, and talk about business in real terms.

"Okay, I see," Kuang Zheng tapped on the desktop, "Leave your business card, we will notify you if we are interested."

The boss issued the order to evict the guests, and Duan Zhao got up immediately, and Tan bitterly panicked: "When... the notice?"

Kuang Zheng was very indifferent: "I think it's the right time."

Tan Ku made it clear that he was tricked, he sang conquest desperately, confessed his predicament regardless of dignity, was despised and ridiculed and carried it hard, it was all in vain, he was just a momentary joke for the rich.

"Oh, by the way," Kuangzheng got up to get his coat, "I don't have a painting in my office, you can make a price, first go to the finance department to get the money, and send it to me within a week."

Tan Kusheng didn't react for a while, and stood there in a daze.

Kuangzheng still had a coquettish look, brushed past him and walked out: "I want to bring the artist's signature."

Before the cooperation was discussed, I bought a painting first, no matter how many thousands or tens of thousands, at least I had enough food money for the festival, Tan Kuang suddenly realized that this bastard surnamed Kuang...maybe he was helping him.

He turned around quickly, and the people had already left, only Duan Zhao stood at the door with his expensive tie on, ready to take him to the finance.

-------------------------------------------

At this time, Baozhan was alone at home. After sealing the play, the theater troupe stopped all performances, and he had to wait until the Spring Festival to open the box. This period was a rare long vacation for him.

With the TV on, he wears an apron to make dumplings, a pot of leeks and shrimps, a pot of sauerkraut and pork, rolling out skins, stuffing, and cooking. He is distracted when he does everything, and his mind is full of rectification, thinking about his fingers and lips. Thinking about the love and affection in the prop room, thinking about those unspeakable secrets belong to the two of them.

His cheeks were hot, he lost his chopsticks, and fell into the sink. He looked down and saw the mobile phone in his apron. He really wanted to call Kuang Zheng, but he had nothing to say except that he was bored. He was struggling when the bell rang suddenly, so he took it out to have a look. , is Mr. Little.

"Hello?" The phone connected.

"Boss Bao," said a cheerful voice, "are you at home?"

"Ah..." Baochan promised Kuangzheng not to bring anyone into their home, "No, no... is there anything wrong?"

"I drew a picture," Mr. Xiao's voice faded, "it's you."

"Me?" Baochan was surprised.

"White Snake, I drew it from my memory and recorded a feeling,"

Mr. Xiao said, somewhat pleadingly, "I want to send it to you."

"No, no need," Baozhan twisted the stitches on the apron, "Take a photo for me to see."

Mr. Xiao was silent for a moment, and then he opened his mouth and asked, "You and your brother, are you... lovers?"

For a moment, Baochan was terrified: "No!" He said something against his will without thinking, "How could it be...we are not!"

Mr. Xiao was silent for a while, smiled, and apologized clearly: "Sorry, I was abrupt."

Baozhan was confused, he had no memory of how he hung up the phone, he only knew that he had lied, he clearly loved rectifying things so much, but he categorically denied their relationship, this was another form of betrayal, whether it was cunning or cowardly, he was I am ashamed to correct the invisible corner.

At this moment, the doorbell rang, Baochan trembled, and went over after a while: "Who?"

"Xiaozheng?" It was a woman's voice.

Baochan opened the door, and outside stood an aunt in a red coat, in her fifties, with curly hair, a bundle in her hand, and a taxi turning away behind her.

"Here..." She held up her mobile phone, looking at the house number on the outer wall, "Is it Kuangzheng's house?"

"Auntie?" Baochan sized her up, the corners of her nose and mouth resembled Kuangzheng, "It's Auntie, come in!"

"You are?" Kuang's mother looked at the beautiful child in front of her.

"Kang is my brother," Baochan smiled and rolled his eyes, "Auntie, you haven't eaten yet, I just made dumplings!"

As he said that, he went to pick up the things in Kuang's mother's hand, and he didn't pay attention, revealing the silver bracelet tied with a red string on his left hand.