American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 112 Ruan Wen Wu Fusheng (Third Update)

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Thanks to Fatal Empty Shot for the donation.

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The elevator ascended smoothly, and the numbers on the display screen jumped rapidly.

When the elevator reached the 87th floor, the doors slowly opened because a passenger accidentally pressed a button.

What comes into view is a construction site surrounded by yellow warning tape.

The building owners seem to want to renovate and add a super high-rise extended observation deck on this floor. Workers removed the exterior glass facing the elevator, and steel scaffolding and safety nets are suspended on the construction platform outside the wall.

Beta's gaze pierced through the fluttering dust cloth, noticing the floor groove at the edge of the platform, where the glass had not yet been installed. A gust of wind swept through, ruffling the safety net with wavy wrinkles.

The elevator doors closed, isolating the construction site from the outside. Beta's gaze swept across every corner of the elevator car; there were no surveillance cameras.

The digital display continued to tick: 88
In the slight feeling of weightlessness as he ascended, the unfinished observation deck on the 87th floor, the unobstructed glass tunnel, and the safety net swaying in the gale gradually took shape in his mind.
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The elevator doors slid open on the 88th floor, revealing a curved LED screen that covered an entire wall.

The crystal-like artistic lettering of "Genting Art Centre" on the screen slowly dissolved and reassembled into the exhibition title "Ruan Wen - The Fragrance of Memory Solo Exhibition".

Beyond this curtain of light and shadow, the exhibition area displays paintings in a way that subverts traditional exhibition methods.

Dozens of paintings appear to float in mid-air, suspended and fixed by barely visible steel wires. They are randomly arranged at various angles, forcing viewers to constantly adjust their position to see the full picture of each painting.

Only a black and white oil painting directly opposite the entrance breaks this deliberate irregularity. It hangs upright in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, with the New York skyline serving as its frame through the glass curtain wall.

Beta strolled leisurely through the exhibition hall, uninterested in the colorful paintings. His goal was clear: to determine from this height and angle whether he could directly see the Central Park stage, the place where the "red-nosed old man with corn silk" was about to give his speech.

An abstract painting with black and white lines hangs there all alone.

In contrast to the crowds gathered in front of other paintings, most visitors glanced at this one and left quickly, as if the painting exuded some kind of unsettling atmosphere.

Beta removed the camera from his neck; the mechanical sound emanating from the lens was barely audible.

This is a modified camera. The main body is a reconnaissance camera with laser rangefinder function, which can take photos at ultra-long distances and also perform laser rangefinder function.

Beta gently twirled the focus ring with his index finger, and the lens assembly extended segment by segment, bringing the Central Park stage closer to within reach. Looking down from the 88th floor, the circular platform, carpeted in red, resembled a model, and the outline of the stage gradually became clear. The spot where the "red-nosed old man with corn silk" was about to stand was now bathed in the New York sun.

"drop--"

A red number pops up in the viewfinder: [5687.34m]

Beta pressed the shutter button repeatedly, and the camera hummed as it stored the photos. Beta adjusted the lens again and took dozens more photos of the view from here towards the Central Park podium.

"Sir, are you interested in this painting?" A soft female voice with an Eastern accent sounded behind Beta.

Beta calmly put down the camera and turned around with a perfectly polite smile.

Standing before him was a quintessential Eastern beauty, lacking the sharp angles of Western women, instead possessing soft, picturesque features. Her almond-shaped eyes drooped slightly, and beneath her delicate nose were two thin lips. She wore a black dress, and her black hair cascaded down to her shoulders.

Beta quickly completed the assessment: approximately 165cm tall, wearing 5cm stiletto heels, weighing no more than 55kg, and with a slender figure. This delicate bone structure is extremely rare among Western women, carrying a kind of oriental charm that was unfamiliar to him.

Beta lightly pressed the camera switch, and the lens silently retracted. He switched to the demeanor of an art connoisseur: "Four distinct brushstrokes, four vastly different techniques, appearing in one work." He tilted his head slightly: "Excuse my intrusion, but who are you?"

The woman extended her slender hand, the jade bracelet on her wrist clinking gently with the movement: "Ruan Wen, the creator of this art exhibition."

Beta politely shook the hand, his fingertips brushing against a thin layer of calluses, the marks of a painter's years of brushwork. He discreetly observed the face before him: a classic oval face, adorned with the understated charm unique to Eastern beauties. In this age of appearances, artists who possess both talent and beauty are always more likely to gain popularity.

Beta took out a gold-embossed business card and handed it over: "Hawker, art collection consultant. Specializing in finding unique works for clients."

His fingertips paused on the edge of the business card, making sure the recipient noticed the Sotheby's certification mark embossed on it.

“Mr. Hawke.” Ruan Wen took the business card, her jade bracelet swaying gently on her wrist. Her gaze lingered briefly on the gold lettering.

Beta's gaze shifted to the black-and-white oil painting: "The entire exhibition consists of your original works, except for this one."

He shook his head: "There are souls dancing in your paintings, while the painter who painted this 'Four Seasons' was probably a photocopier sprite."

"Pah, pah, pah——"

Three restrained rounds of applause came from the side and behind.

Ruan Wen and Beta turned their heads at the same time, and an Asian man in his early fifties walked slowly towards them. He had his hair slicked back, his gray sideburns were neatly trimmed, and his Savile three-piece suit exuded the sophistication of an old-fashioned British gentleman.

“Mr. Hawke has a keen eye.” The man spoke with a perfectly measured admiration in his Oxford accent: “Four schools, four techniques, awkwardly pieced together. The lines really do look like they were copied by a scanner, even the thickness of the paint is calculated too precisely. Rather than calling it ‘The Four Seasons,’ it would be more fitting to call it ‘Laser Printer Test Page.’”

Ruan Wen's fingertips caressed the jade bracelet, her face still bearing a polite smile, but the temperature in her eyes had noticeably cooled.

Beta turned to the man: "Who are you?"

"Wu Fusheng." The man took out an ivory-white business card from his suit pocket: "Like you, I make a living by appreciating art."

Beta took the business card and turned to the black and white painting: "This painter should consider changing careers."

Ruan Wen and Wu Fusheng both looked at him simultaneously, waiting for him to continue.

"Such precise copying technology, if used to print counterfeit money, would probably be indistinguishable even from the real thing by the Federal Reserve."

Wu Fusheng's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly regained his old-fashioned gentlemanly composure: "Mr. Hawke is indeed insightful."

Ruan Wen's willow-leaf eyebrows furrowed tightly.

Beta caught the curious glances of several visitors around him out of the corner of his eye; in this setting, attracting attention meant trouble.

He pointed to the painting's label: "Ms. Ruan Wen, if I were to purchase this painting, 'The Four Seasons,' for $800, could you please introduce me to the artist?"

This amount was nothing to him; even if he bought it to use as firewood, it would be a hundred times better than being surrounded by onlookers.

(End of this chapter)