RNP Chapter 305 The Four Food Buddies Reunite
Chapter 305 The Four Food Buddies Reunite
At six o'clock the next afternoon, Mike, Daniel, and Tom rang the doorbell of the Upper East Side villa on time. The three of them were all beaming with excitement at their long-awaited reunion. As soon as they entered, they warmly embraced Lin Yan and joked with each other, instantly filling the living room with the cheerful laughter of young people.
Lin Yan specially instructed Wang Yuling to prepare a sumptuous Chinese "hard dishes"—braised pork knuckle with a glossy sheen, steamed grouper with an enticing aroma, Peking duck sliced as thin as cicada wings, and various exquisite desserts. During the meal, the group chatted and reminisced about the past, creating a lively atmosphere.
Mike was clearly completely at ease. Faced with a table full of delicious food, he used a knife, fork, and chopsticks with gusto, devouring the food in front of him in a flash. By the time dessert was served, he had already slumped back in his chair contentedly, patting his round belly with both hands and letting out a long, satisfied sigh, looking just like a lazy, content seal that couldn't move.
Looking at him, whose eyes were glazed over from being so full, Lin Yan couldn't help but rub his forehead, speechless.
Mike patted his stomach contentedly, slumping back in his chair. "Lin, this is the taste! I haven't had this in five years! In Philadelphia, I was eating cold sandwiches and cheap pizzas every day; I'd almost forgotten what hot food tasted like."
Lin Yan smiled and poured him a cup of tea: "It seems that being a future curator is quite a tough job. How's your first exhibition going?"
"Next month!" Mike immediately sat up straight, his eyes shining. "It's in an art space converted from an old warehouse. It's a bit out of the way, but the atmosphere is fantastic. I'm curating an exhibition themed 'Street Art and Urban Sounds.' I hope you can come..." His tone was full of anticipation.
Tom chimed in, looking remarkably energetic in his athletic attire: "Don't listen to his complaints, he's doing incredibly well now. I majored in sports management at Columbia and just finished a summer internship with the Knicks." He demonstrated a standard shooting motion. "From player data analysis to ticket sales strategies, this is real-world practice. Lin, next time I'll organize it, I'll take you to Madison Square Garden for a game, front-row seats guaranteed!"
Daniel, who had been eating quietly, adjusted his glasses. "Your activities sound very exciting. I spend most of my time in the lab in California, working with Professor Williams on aerodynamics research for spacecraft." His tone was calm but focused. "Recently, I've been optimizing the reentry capsule's shape, hoping to reduce drag by five percent."
"Wait, a wind tunnel? Drag?" Mike's eyes widened. "Danny, are you talking about one of those giant fans that can blow planes away? That's so cool!"
Tom astutely picked up the conversation: "A five percent improvement in drag? That's the difference between champion and runner-up in competitive sports. Danny, does your lab need sponsors? I know a few alumni who are particularly interested in aerospace."
Lin Yan's gaze slowly swept over his three friends—old friends who shone brightly in their respective fields of art, sports, and aerospace—and a satisfied smile curved his lips: "A future art promoter, a rising star in the sports industry, and a scientist designing future spacecraft." He raised his teacup, "To your canvases, your fields, and your skies."
Mike loudly raised his glass in agreement, "To Lin too! You're still as mysterious as ever, but it's great to see you back! By the way..." He lowered his voice, winking slyly at Tom, "That Knicks front-row ticket you mentioned earlier, does it still count?"
Lin Yan put down his teacup, a hint of apology on his face. "Mike, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. Next month is Chinese New Year, and I have to go back home."
Seeing Mike's shoulders slump instantly, he changed the subject, a gentle smile flashing in his eyes: "However, as compensation for not being able to attend, I can write you a letter of recommendation. You can take it to invite a painter to participate in the exhibition; I believe he will be interested."
"A letter of recommendation?" Mike tilted his head in confusion. "Lin, when did you get to know people in the art world?"
"Carlos," Lin Yan murmured the name softly, as if reminiscing about something, "Have you heard of him?"
"Carlos?" Mike repeated instinctively, then sat bolt upright as if struck by lightning. "Wait! You don't mean—Carlos Rivera?"
His voice unconsciously rose, causing Tom and Daniel to turn around curiously.
Mike's fork clattered onto the plate, and he grabbed Lin Yan's arm abruptly: "Are you really talking about Carlos Rivera? The Carlos who even Andy Warhol attended his solo exhibition at MoMA?"
He was so excited he was almost incoherent: "The New York Times said he 'put the soul of Mexican murals into the body of Pop Art'! Last week, our professor was analyzing his 'Market Series' in class, saying he found the cultural tension between Coca-Cola GG and traditional pottery jars..."
Lin Yan gently pushed away Mike's sauce-stained hand and took a handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe it. "Calm down. Yes, it's Carlos."
"But... how is this possible?" Mike still couldn't believe it. "He's a pillar of Pace Gallery now, his paintings sell for five figures!"
"Seven years ago in Los Angeles, he was still selling paintings on a street corner." Lin Yan took a sip of tea, his gaze distant. "Back then, two policemen were about to confiscate his art supplies when I happened to pass by."
He put down his teacup, his fingertips gently tracing the rim: "I bought all his paintings at the time, including the initial draft of 'The Immigrant's Mother,' which later became part of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art."
Tom whistled, "Wow, Lin, your investment acumen is way better than any of the fund managers I've met on Wall Street."
"This wasn't an investment," Lin Yan shook his head. "He was incredibly stubborn back then, preferring to go hungry rather than accept charity. I had no choice but to say I wanted him to paint portraits of Charles and Harper."
Daniel adjusted his glasses: "So that's why, when I saw Carlos's interview in The Art Newspaper, he said he was most grateful to a 'kindred spirit from the East'?"
"I wouldn't call them kindred spirits," Lin Yan chuckled. "It's just that during his most difficult time, someone was willing to seriously look at his paintings."
He turned to Mike, who was still in a daze: "Should we write a letter? I read in the paper that he should be in New York next week. I remember his studio is in SoHo, not far from your old warehouse."
"Yes! Of course!" Mike jumped up, nearly knocking over the glass of red wine on the table. "My God, if only Carlos Rivera could come to my opening exhibition, even just for a brief appearance..."
"Don't get too excited," Lin Yan said, pressing his shoulder. "Remember, you're not going on a pilgrimage; you're inviting an artist to participate in your art project as a curator."
He took out a pen and wrote a few lines on a piece of paper: "Give this to Carlos, and he'll understand. But Mike..." Lin Yan looked at him meaningfully, "What matters is whether your exhibition itself is excellent enough, not how many big names you've invited."
As night deepened, streetlights flickered across the car window. Lin Yan gripped the steering wheel, first taking Mike back to Queens.
The car stopped at the familiar Maple Leaf Street intersection. Mike hesitated for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt and turning around: "Lin, will you come back this time?" His voice sounded particularly cautious in the quiet car.
Tom and Daniel in the back seat also held their breath.
Lin Yan turned his head, the dim light illuminating his gentle profile: "Of course." His voice was steady and certain. "I'll come to New York for a while every year from now on."
These words were like a warm breeze, instantly dispelling the faint melancholy in the carriage. Mike grinned and patted Lin Yan's shoulder heavily: "It's a deal!"
Two simultaneous sighs of relief came from the back seat. The three friends exchanged smiles, and their earlier unease completely dissipated into the night.