Heartfelt romantic tale: This Side of Affection, That Side of the Flower
Upon first seeing her, he was stunned by her beauty. At the time, he was merely a handyman at a small craft company, while she, with her outstanding artistic talent, had become the youngest associate professor at a university.
In those days, his extreme inferiority complex prevented him from confessing his admiration, or even meeting her clear eyes, for fear that she might look down on him and disappear from his sight forever. Yet, the young heart could not stop the ripples of love from spreading. From that moment, he could never erase her from his heart.
In the cluttered and chaotic warehouse where he stayed, he picked up a paintbrush for the first time in his life and earnestly began sketching portraits like an elementary school student. He said, “Her unparalleled beauty is the most extraordinary I’ve seen in my life. It belongs to classic paintings, to eternal poetry, and should be immortalized for the world.”
Finally, he mustered the courage to show her his childish drawings. She politely said, “Not bad,” which greatly encouraged him. He secretly told himself to hide his passionate love for now, work harder, and strive to become better so that he could be worthy of her exceptional brilliance. However, he also feared that by the time he succeeded, she might already belong to someone else.
These worries kept him awake at night, causing him to lose over twenty pounds in just two months. In the end, he poured his sincere love into a poem and sent it to her. She gracefully thanked him and firmly told him that their relationship could only be friendship, not love.
Though her rational rejection left him slightly bitter, he bore no resentment and felt deep gratitude because she had done nothing wrong. She had her own path and choices. Perhaps when he became good enough, she would understand his deep and enduring love. So, he left the provincial city for Beijing, then traveled overseas to many art sanctuaries in Europe, studying under masters and diligently honing his craft.
While busy hosting a solo exhibition in Paris, he received news of her marriage. He sat dazed by the Seine, allowing the autumn sun to bathe his face full of melancholy, like a withered grass frostbitten by the cold.
After finally calming his sorrow, he wrote her a brief but sincere blessing: “I believe you will have a happy love because your beauty is not just external but also in your thoughts and soul. The one who loves you most will see your unique excellence clearly.”
When they met again, he was already a renowned artist, while she was experiencing the bittersweet flavors of a mundane marriage. The indelible affection made him still feel flustered when sitting before her after so many years. That day, he gave her an oil painting titled “Forever,” depicting a long alley silently expressing his deep feelings, clear yet hazy.
She reminded him that he should consider settling down. He saw a fleeting sadness in her eyes and nodded, saying, “Yes, the years of affection age us, and one cannot always travel the path of love. But…” His unfinished sentence, like the ample blank spaces in his paintings, was understood without being spoken.
Upon learning that her husband had perished at sea, he immediately halted an important international art exchange event and flew to her side from Italy, tirelessly helping with the funeral arrangements. She was moved and grateful, but even then, she decisively rejected his earnest love once more.
She gave no reason, nor did she need to. Just like his love at first sight, decades of worldly experiences had not diluted that love but deepened and extended it. Despite her repeated rejections, making him taste the ups and downs of hope and disappointment, he savored a love that was unwavering and without regret. He said, “She is my other shore flower, always beautiful and fragrant at a distance.”
Critics praised his distinctive artistic style—always bright and passionate, even when there was a touch of black gloom, it could not overshadow the red hope. Few knew how he dipped his brush in bitterness, repeatedly painting his yearning for happiness. Even fewer could understand the love tide surging within him when his brush flowed smoothly.
Later, he married French painter George Julia and settled in the small southern French town of Nice, maintaining correspondence with her. Their bond grew deeper. She once remarked meaningfully, “Not being able to hold his hand might not have been my best choice in life, but it gave me a lifetime of happiness.”
She passed away at 55 from a cerebral hemorrhage. Upon hearing the news, he locked himself in his studio, creating his magnum opus “The Other Shore Flower,” which he refused to sell for millions of dollars, and announced his retirement from the art world, vowing never to paint again, retreating to seclusion abroad and declining all interviews.
He was the famous oil painter Ren Qianqiu of the last century, and her name was Xie Xiaoju. Their love story, like his final masterpiece, remains a timeless and beautiful tale, sending warmth and goodness across the years despite the separation.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
