narrow red

Chapter 149

In the small conference room next to the CEO's office, Kuang Zheng was sitting in the middle, Duan Zhao and Wang Youcheng were on the left and the other on the right, and opposite were Tan Kusheng and Lu Ranxia, ​​with a stack of documents they brought on the table.

Duan Zhao checked the documents one by one, Wang Youcheng cooperated with him to make notes in the notebook, and Kuang Zheng slowly looked at Lu Ranxia with a lucky lottery.

The kid also looked at him, with his only one eye, rebellious.

"The left eye," Kuang Zheng smiled, leaning forward, "how did you get it?"

It's not only impolite, but also cruel to expose someone's disability that someone deliberately concealed. Tan interrupted him bitterly: "Mr. Kuang."

Kuangzheng crushed the cigarette in the metal ashtray, and said with a matter-of-fact expression: "Mr. Qin, what do painters rely on for a living?"

Being called "President", Tan's bitter voice was not used to: "...hand."

Kuang Zheng nodded: "There are still eyes."

Tan Kusheng has no way to refute it. In order to invest in art, Kuang Zheng obviously did his homework. A painter holds a brush with his hands, but what really determines a painter's attainment is his unique way of observing the world, or in other words, his eyes.

"Painters with eye problems," Kuang Zheng said relentlessly, "are like bad assets to me, with no investment value."

Tan Kusheng's face froze.

"Before I refused to let the artist show up," Kuang Zheng stared at him with a questioning tone, "Is it because of this?"

He hinted that Tan Kusheng intentionally covered up the fact that the painter's left eye was disabled, and wanted to deceive Wan Rong Zhenhui: "No, Mr. Kuang, listen to me..."

"You take the painting away," Lu Ranxia said at this moment, with such a soft face, but her words were angular, "Is there any problem with my eyes, you look at the painting, don't look at me."

Kuang Zheng turned his eyes away from Tan Kusheng, and turned to him: "The painting is good, and we have already identified potential buyers, but," he refused to budge, "If you want to fry your pink chicken, Wanrong Zhenhui invested in Real money, I don’t want money to be wasted, and the topic to be created, because of your eyes, what kind of moths will you give me halfway.”

Lu Ranxia frowned: "What do you mean?"

"I have to know what's going on with your left eye," said a broken eye, congenital disease, in case violence or criminal offenses are involved, "I'm afraid of scandal."

The investment of tens of millions is nothing, and the profit of tens of millions in the future is nothing. It is really a mistake. What is dirty is the Wanrong Zhenhui brand. What is lost is the value of all customers. This due diligence There is no room for negotiation.

"What if we don't talk about it?" Tan Kusheng still wanted to see the saw.

Kuang Zheng squeezed the space between his eyebrows. Negotiations with the artist are strenuous: "Mr. Qin, I suggest that you truthfully inform your partner of all important information, otherwise," he chuckled, "negotiate everything."

Lu Ran stood up abruptly, flicked her half-length hair, revealing her lifeless prosthetic eye, and kicked Tan Kusheng's chair hard.

"What are you doing!" Tan stared at him bitterly.

"Go, what are you doing here?"

Tan bitterly did not move.

"Will you go?" Lu Ranxia looked at him with his hands in his pockets, "Xiao Qi."

Xiaoqi, which sounds like a homonym for "Xiaoqin", looked at them carefully. No matter their demeanor or tone, they were not just painters and managers, but good friends.

"Little Six," Tan said bitterly, lowering his head, Wanrong Zhenhui's opportunity was not easy to come by, he knew it himself, "Don't be impulsive."

"You bastard," Lu Ran Xia Heng took a straight look, "If you don't leave, I will leave."

He turned around and left, kicking the door open with a bang, without looking back.

Kuang Zheng raised his eyebrows, "Xiao Liu" has a bigger temper than "Xiao Qi", and he will act wildly if he disagrees with him: "You guys are engaged in art," he scowled, "Are you all so messed up?"

Tan bitterly explained: "He is proud because he is talented."

talent!Kuang Zheng finds it funny that talents that cannot be realized in this era are just shackles that cannot be realized, and what can be strangled may be a person's entire life.

Kuang Zheng didn't get angry, but Duan Zhao quit. He shook the pile of documents on the table and pushed them back to Tan Kusheng.On the other side, Wang Youcheng went even further, directly shutting down the laptop and unplugging it.

In the quiet conference room, Tan Kusheng clasped his hands, tightened them and loosened them several times. After 3 minutes, 5 minutes, and 10 minutes passed, Duan Zhao stood up impatiently: "Boss, I won't accompany you anymore. There is something."

"En." Kuang Zheng didn't stop him.

Duan Zhao walked around the table, passed by Tan Kusheng, and was grabbed by the wrist by the boy, and said in a soft voice, "That eye..."

Kuang Zheng was no longer interested, and got up to button up his suit. At this moment, Tan confessed bitterly: "I stabbed it."

For a moment, Kuang Zheng was stunned.

"You... stabbed it?" Duan Zhao thought he heard it wrong.

Kuang Zheng didn't believe it, it was illogical: "What did you use to poke it?"

Tan bitterly spit out two words: "Scraper."

Duan Zhao's eyes widened: "Scraper!"

Kuangzheng had no idea about the scraper, and Wang Youcheng handed over the phone behind him. On the screen was a Baidu picture. It was a flat metal knife with a clumsy diamond-shaped head. The edge was not sharpened and was very blunt. Smoothing paint.

Being stabbed in the eye by such a big blunt knife... Kuang Zheng broke out in a layer of cold sweat on his back.

"I..." Tan Kusheng still had his head down, "I was the one who took his eyes away."

Duan Zhao turned his head to look at Kuang Zheng, who was just like him, full of disbelief.They couldn't understand, since Tan Kusheng stabbed Lu Ranxia, ​​why did he still want to be his manager, and Lu Ranxia Mingming was Tan Kusheng's victim, why didn't he let him tell the bloody fact.

"We are in the same university, the same major, and the same class," Tan bitterly said in a low voice, "We have bunk beds for four years, and the seats in the studio are next to each other. His paintings are great, and mine are just as good. We both admired each other's talents ... as much as we admired them, we were as jealous."

Jealousy among friends is very common, especially in art majors such as painting and dancing, because talent is a gift from God, and it cannot be changed by hard work.

"We are in the best academy of fine arts in the country, the top department, and the most avant-garde paintings. We are the kind of friends who will secretly compete with each other. We share the use of the old Dutch pen that costs 100 yuan. My pen is useless. , he gave me his, and we played side by side until the summer of my senior year."

Senior year, summer, Duan Zhao realized——

"Graduation exhibition." Tan said bitterly, his Adam's apple slipping violently.

Kuang Zheng dragged the chair and sat down in front of him.

"The entrance to the lobby on the first floor of the exhibition hall is facing that wall. We call it Wall No. 1 because it is the soul of the entire art exhibition. Wall No. 1 is very large, but there is only one painting on it." Qin Kusheng's voice trembled a little, " That summer, that position wasn't mine, it was his."

Kuang Zheng understands this kind of competition among classmates, especially in the graduation season. It may be an exaggeration to describe it as "you live and die", but it is not uncommon for buddies in the same dormitory to stab a knife in the back for an interview opportunity.

Tan Kusheng was silent for a moment, and said the result directly: "The head of the department chose me."

Kuang Zheng stared at him.

"Wall No. 1 that year was mine," Tan Kusheng raised his head suddenly, "I know he is angry, but I am very happy."

Kuang Zheng's expression was complicated.

"Then there were all kinds of frictions. He and I were on the verge of breaking out, and then that day," Tan Kuang stared into Kuang Zheng's eyes, "I couldn't find a scraper in the department's studio, so I used his. It was very hot that day, and the cicadas all over the window were screaming, because of this knife, he poured a bottle of turpentine on me, and the smell...I wanted to kill him at that time."

"Okay," Kuang Zheng didn't want to listen any more, it was too cruel, "President Qin..."

"I must have been crazy at that time, and my soul was out of my body. When I realized it, my hands were all red, not deep red, nor pink." Tan Kusheng stared at his eyes, "It turned out to be blood. The scraper was not in my hand, and I still Gave it to him...he didn't even yell."

Kuang Zheng frowned and turned his face away.

"His eyes are very beautiful, right?" Tan said bitterly, "His paintings are also very beautiful, with a wonderful depth, but since that day, he has never painted a sense of space that can suck people in, it is me , put an end to his talent."

This is a serious personal injury, Kuang Zheng grabbed his down jacket: "Is the case filed?"

Tan shook his head bitterly: "He didn't call the police."

Kuang Zheng was surprised: "It's over?"

"We are in a bad relationship," Tan said with a wry smile, "Admiring each other, enviing each other, helping each other, and hurting each other."

Kuang Zheng let go of him, he couldn't empathize and didn't want to empathize with this pathological mutual torture.

"So I don't draw anymore," Tan bitterly sniffed and sat up straight, "There is only one thing left in my life, which is to let the whole world see Lu Ranxia's paintings. I took his eyes and No. 1 Wall, I'll give him my future back."

So Tan Kusheng is Lu Ranxia's manager.

That's why their art consulting company called Kusheng Ranxia.

"I see." A heavy story, Kuang Zheng fell into an indescribable melancholy.

Tan Kuang got up from the chair, drooped his shoulders, turned around and walked out, and when he reached the door, Kuangzheng stopped him: "Boss Qin," he said solemnly, "I'm sorry."

Tan Kusheng didn't answer, and the door closed from the outside with a click.

Duan Zhao went back to the table to pack up the documents, Wang Youcheng thought about it, and called Kuangzheng: "The little painter's eye can make a fuss."

Kuang Zheng turned his head slowly.

"It's just a different version of the story," Wang Youcheng thought with his notebook between his fingers, "Painter, one-eyed, blood... and there is still a lack of a beautiful woman. It would be more dramatic for a girlfriend to stab her than a male classmate."

Kuang Zheng looked at him, and felt that this person was very cold for the first time, as expected of an HR worker, and he was not affected by Tan Kusheng's strong emotions.

"If you agree, I'll find someone to write a copy, and it will be a hot search for a few days during the Spring Festival."

But from a business point of view, Wang Youcheng was right. Kuang Zheng reminded him: "Communicate with Tan Kusheng first, and don't sprinkle salt on other people's wounds."

Wang Youcheng twirled his thin glasses legs: "Didn't he want the whole world to see Lu Ranxia's paintings? With this little salt, no matter how painful it is, he will agree."

"Golden Knife," Kuang Zheng continued to arrange, "The feasibility report has been passed, you can proceed."

"Understood," Duan Zhao picked up the document, "I'll start screening curators right now."

Kuang Zheng nodded, got up and walked out.

"Guangzheng," Wang Youcheng stopped him again, "I was thinking, if it were me, an ordinary person who has no interest in art, I would not pay attention to exhibitions held by galleries or art museums," he said, He almost rejected half of Duan Zhao's report, but then he said, "But I will go to see the exhibition in the museum."

Compared with galleries and art galleries, museums have an aura of authority. Kuang Zheng immediately looked at Duan Zhao: "Golden knife?"

"No one in China has done this before," Jin Dao cast a sidelong glance at Wang Youcheng, "I have to study it."

"Leave it to you two," Kuang Zheng shook his coat, "I'll leave first."

He opened the door and went out, followed closely by Wang Youcheng, and Duan Zhao yelled from behind: "The surname is Wang!"

Wang Youcheng stopped and turned around gracefully.

Duan Zhao came up, squeezed him away and held the doorknob: "Don't let me hear you call 'Kuangzheng' again." He was not as tall as Wang Youcheng, so he could only stretch his neck and raise his face, "We all call 'Boss'."

Wang Youcheng looked at this young boss who was seven or eight years younger than himself, and smiled: "OK." As he spoke, he glanced down seemingly absently.

Duan Zhao glared at him: "Why are you aiming at you!"

"It's nothing." Wang Youcheng made a "please" gesture, "after you."

Tap the screen to use advanced tools Tip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between chapters.

You'll Also Like