"Teacher Xia, my husband seems to have had a change of heart. He left me alone in the hospital and roams around like a lost soul every day," Xu Huan's wife said, sitting on the sofa, absent-minded.
Behind the easel opposite, a gentle and bright man stood. When he smiled, he would unconsciously squint, making people feel warm and friendly.
"It's finished."
With the last stroke, Xu Huan's wife suddenly became energetic and ran to the side of the easel.
Vivid red bloomed on the pure white paper. The woman in the painting embraced a warm heart, her expression sacred, blood dripping down her slender wrist onto the wedding dress.
"Do you like it?"
"It's so beautiful." Xu Huan's wife was immersed in the painting, feeling that Teacher Xia had painted her soul or perhaps painted the person she most wished to become.
"You are already very beautiful." Cleaning the paint, Teacher Xia did not disturb Xu Huan's wife, picked up his bag, and walked out of the house.
