Chapter 18: The Master of Clouds
Queenie had little interest in paintings or calligraphy, so she left the gallery early, her footsteps echoing faintly behind her.
Meanwhile, Alice was practically glowing as she made her way to Mr. Johnson's residence. Her anticipation was palpable. Mr. Johnson had recently acquired an authentic painting by the Master of the Clouds—a name that carried weight in the art world. This particular piece was to be unveiled that very evening.
"Is the Master of the Clouds really that amazing?" John asked, his curiosity piqued.
Alice's eyes lit up. "Of course he is! He's a true genius. His paintings use just a few brushstrokes to express layers of meaning. You don't just see his art—you feel it."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And no one knows who he really is! They say no one has ever seen his face. He's like a ghost—here one moment, gone the next."
Alice could hardly stop herself from gushing, her tone reverent and dreamy.
He was, without exaggeration, her idol.
John, however, felt a strange unease prickling in his chest. He frowned slightly and muttered under his breath, "Well, I'd like to see just how impressive he really is."
Alice caught the edge in his voice and tilted her head. "John... are you jealous?"
John turned his face away, sulking. "No."
She chuckled and nudged him playfully. "Oh, don't be silly. I admire his art, not the man. He's probably some reclusive old grandpa in his eighties who smells like ink and incense."