Jihwan ❆ Xiuying

avoiding trouble was never my forte

xiu ying & ji hwan

the colder season creeps its way up on my back, the wind gets under the layers of my clothes and pale skin, freezes the weblike blue veins on my arms. winter in korea is much more colder than in taiwan. back home the island never really gets old, the nature waits for its turn to regenerate, it sleeps but never dies. here, the trees go bald, the flowers disappear and for the first time in my life i see snow! suddenly i understand why there are so many stories about hades abducting the goddess of harvest and stealing warmth from humans. gosh, what i could give for something warm now!
i’m well aware i’m the only one at fault. if only i had not stayed in the bookstore for too long i wouldn’t have missed the bus. that left me with two choices: freeze to death while waiting at the bus stop or walking home. the two faces of the same janus because i’m not willing to spend my money on taxi only to blame it on my own stupidity. the dark, empty streets are only dimly lighted by some lamps and shop vitrines’ neon signs. i’m bouncing on my feet while walking to shake off the cold. i hum an old chinese children song when someone bumps into me quite roughly.
’ya,’ i spit out automatically but the hooded guy and his partner don’t even turn around. the pair take long strides hurriedly and one of them carries a big suitcase with him. i huff in annoyance and intend to walk away until a deep voice fill the silence.
’i wonder if it’s the real poppy flowers,’ one of the two men says with a judging edge in his voice. the other figure laughs darkly. it’s not a nice sound.
’van gogh would be pissed off to hear you doubting him.’
my steps come to halt and my head snaps towards them in lighting speed at the mention of the famous impressionist painter. did they just said poppy flowers? that painting was said to be lost or destroyed after the third theft in the Cairo museum a few years ago. i remember my art teacher having a mild mental breakdown because van gogh was her favourite artist. i was never really a big fan of him but if they found his painting here in korea that’s gonna be huge!
i try to recover quickly and catch a sight of the two men disappearing into one of the little streets at the next cross-road. without thinking i follow their lead in quick steps and end up turning into a dark alley. the only light comes from a window above and i count three or four man dressed in all black, caps, masks and everything but i don’t pay them attention as my gaze falls on a square thing in their hands: a billion-worth painting.
’wow, is it really the original van gogh?’ i gasp in surprise and suddenly cold is the last thing that bothers me.

avoiding trouble was never my forte

xiu ying & ji hwan

As I think of it later I should find it weird for business partners to meet in a dark alley late at night but in the hurry of the moment, it doesn’t even occur to me. I pout at the relevation of the faux copy and I shiver hearing the deep voice resonating through the night.
’What a shame then. I’m sure the Museum of Cairo would pay billions for the real thing.’ I mumble mostly to myself and feel the echo of disappointment in my cold body. Before, I didn’t expect any of the men to approach me but as I look up, one of them is in front of me, towering above me and I'm left speechless for a while. Gosh, he is tall and handsome and so much younger than I originally would have guessed. He might be only a few years older and he’s already doing business? Wow, good for him!
His sudden offer catches me off guard and I try (and fail) not to show my mild surprise.The situation reminds me of the last time I fell for a smile and dig my own grave with my own bare hands. Oh I was so foolish to trust a stranger yet my belief brought me all the way here, didn’t it? This guy doesn’t look harmful but aren’t all bad boys look innocent?
’I… I should probably go home.’ I wonder out loud while in my peripheric sight the two suspicious men dissolve into the dark shadows. It’s late and Shin-Shin will worry. But…  I’m an adult and I can do whatever I want, right? Plus, the guy may be an antique merchant and I’m so weak for anything related to art. Maybe he knows a few good museums around the corner.  I look up with blown eyes and brows raised in question.
‘Do you really want to hear about van gogh? Because I’m more like a monet kind of girl and I’d chirp your ears off about him gladly as long as you’re buying…’ A cold wind passes and I pull my coat tighter around me when I add: ‘something warm.’