Gu Zhijing seems to have found a new muse. Though he never paints portraits, he secretly keeps a painting of her in his studio. When I saw the portrait hidden beneath a red cloth, I called out to the System that had been on standby for three years. “I regret it. I want to leave this world.” Gu Zhijing urged me again and again to hand over the gallery’s agency rights to the newcomer. He said he’d give the gallery back to me once he’d helped her through this difficult time. I smiled and agreed, then made a request: I wanted him to paint my portrait. At a press conference, a reporter asked him what he thought about my sudden death. His face turned even paler than it had when I died. The acclaimed artist, renowned at home and abroad, never picked up a paintbrush again after seeing my portrait at my funeral.
