Chapter 28 Chapter Twenty Eight

Qiao Xinsheng tremblingly put down the letter in his hand, his eyes fell on the roses in the living room, this kind of flower he had never seen before was the color of lilac.He remembered the kind of rose mentioned in the letter, called "Yesterday". He stood up tremblingly from the armchair, went to the bookshelf, saw a copy of "A Portrait of Gray", the book was very old, the paper was yellow, and he suddenly felt a chill in his heart. At this time, the door of the studio was blown open by a gust of wind, and he walked in. There was no one inside, only a few unfinished paintings left by her.

The wind came in through the open window, and when he walked into the bedroom, only the curtains fluttered. He rushed outside, down the terrazzo stairs, and into the car. He parked his car on Tianqin Road, walked from one end of the road to the other, and back again, but he didn't see any galleries on this road. It was getting late, and he went into each store and asked if there had ever been a gallery here?Everyone's answer is the same, no one has ever seen a gallery in this area. He stopped passers-by to ask the same question, but no one could answer him. He wandered around looking for that very Bohemian gallery she had written about, looking for the iron gate with the little window.

He grabs passers-by and asks them if they've heard of Lady Rose's gallery, and everyone asks him "Who's Lady Rose?" He cried and called her name, and in those long and lonely days later, he often sat alone in her studio, often for hours at a time, trying to finish all the unfinished paintings for her, but never Never picked up a paintbrush.