The Versatile Master Artist

”Mrs. Cruz?”

The hotel concierge, who was over fifty with graying hair, directed the black chauffeured car to park in front of the Aman suite’s yard.

He paid no heed to the slippery ground and jogged towards Mrs. Sakai.

The attentive concierge service at luxury hotels has always been the hallmark that Aman, Hilton, COMO, and other long-established global hotel giants use to win over high-net-worth clients.

These concierges receive the most professional training, are on standby 24 hours, average over forty-five years old, and boast extensive experience and connections.

The head concierge at Aman Hotel proudly has two crossed keys embroidered in gold thread on the chest of his black tailored uniform.

Only the top professionals in the hotel concierge field can obtain this ”Golden Key” honor certification.

From ensuring the bathtub filled with rose petals is exactly 41.5 degrees Celsius before guests check in, to providing professional travel service guides, from arranging last-minute opera box tickets to purchasing asthma medication, or even performing emergency tracheotomy surgery, they are the experts.

This ”Golden Key” concierge, who earns a salary of thirty thousand dollars a year, now appeared visibly sweating.

”The car assigned to Miss Sakai is currently located in the Leyada District. Would you like me to contact the driver to report on Miss Sakai’s situation, madam?”

The concierge dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

He was aware of the identities of the two long-term guests residing in this small courtyard.

The wife and daughter of the renowned artist Yakai Ichiro.

The young Miss Sakai had ordered a car in the evening and wandered off to a local Yangon slum.

Koizumi Katsuko claimed she had her mother’s permission.

The concierge department sent the car without verification, and now the mother seemed anxious to find her daughter.

The concierge wasn’t sure what had happened, and if something unfortunate were to happen to this underage VIP guest, the hotel’s responsibility and reputation would undoubtedly be put to the test.

Artists are notoriously difficult to please and hold significant influence in high society, their energy more exaggerated than rock stars.

The concierge observed Mrs. Sakai standing in the entrance corridor, her trench coat unbuttoned, ready to go out in a hurry, yet staring at her phone, motionless, with a complicated expression.

”Madam?”

He softly called out once more.

Mrs. Sakai remained statue-like, unresponsive.

Ignoring the concierge’s call, she gently pinched the screen to zoom in and out.

The concierge caught a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of his eye and saw a strange artwork, apparently unfinished.

Unlike traditional oil paintings,

The decorative paintings hanging in the hallways of Aman Hotel are carefully selected, and the concierge possesses some art appreciation skills.

He found the painting, though incomplete, remarkably beautiful.

Unlike any art he had seen, its brushwork carried an exotic flair that was not obscure or difficult to understand.

Unconsciously, the concierge took a couple of extra glances.

”Is it beautiful?” Mrs. Sakai suddenly asked.

”I’m terribly sorry, madam, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

The concierge quickly stepped back two paces, concerned only about the guest’s well-being, not intending to pry into Mrs. Sakai’s privacy.

”I’m not blaming you, I’m just asking how you find this painting.”

Mrs. Sakai raised her phone to the concierge, casually inquiring.

”Is this Miss Sakai’s work? It’s quite innovative, likely a very fine piece.” The concierge, aware of each VIP guest’s general information, knew that Miss Sakai was an Asia-renowned young art talent.

”Fine?”

Mrs. Sakai shook her head gently.

She wasn’t genuinely seeking the opinion of the hotel staff.

She was simply too astonished.

It’s as if seeing a beautiful mirage in the clouds, you’d instinctively want to ask those around you if it was merely a figment of your imagination.

She had never expected to see Gu Weijing create such a work.

It’s a bit monstrous!

Though outstanding technique is secondary, this feeling of perfectly fusing Eastern and Western styles already bears the mark and form of a name family.

This is far more striking than mere technique.

Technique is something that can be gradually learned.

It’s simply a question of how quickly it grows, but many established artists fail to master this ability to manage cultural fusion.

The master’s path,

lies in it.

”It’s incredibly astonishing, calling it fine is understated, it’s downright a little monster. Perhaps he really can support each other with Shengzi and make it to the end, who knows?”

The thought emerged in Mrs. Sakai’s mind.

”Never mind, children will have their own blessings, let them be.”

After an internal struggle lasting several seconds, she suddenly felt a sense of ease.

Mrs. Sakai stomped her foot and turned back towards the way she came.

”Mrs. Cruz, you?”

The concierge looked at Mrs. Sakai’s retreating back in confusion.

”No need for the car, I’m going back to the room to rest.” Mrs. Sakai waved her hand, pulling out her phone from her pocket, selecting a contact, and spoke into the phone: ”Hello, Ichiro?”

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Chiyoda District, Tokyo, Negima Yakitori Shop.

The original meaning of ”Negima” is a cooking method for grilled skewers, taking fresh chicken breast or thigh meat and threading it on bamboo skewers, interspersed with scallion segments or crushed garlic, and slowly over heated charcoal.