Han Xuan avoided the Xiangjiang chatterbox who thought he was Japanese and kept testing his Mandarin.⊙,

I found that the perverted old painter in his 80s who liked Lolita came over again and pulled Anya, the little white rabbit, and left far away.

If I hadn't seen this guy being buried in the top of his head by the earth and not far from going to hell, I really wanted to go up and beat him up.

I thought to myself that anyone can become famous these days.

In the future, an auction house can actually give a high price of 20 million US dollars for a New York artist Lehman. Don’t talk about art. You will feel embarrassed to see the word “art”.

If this is art, then the white walls of all the families are art.

The meaning is nonsense, and the inflated oil painting market is fully reflected in that painting.

These people are not so much selling works as saying they are selling fame. Classical masters know that they need to reflect the beauty of oil paintings. The more modern they become, the more exaggerated they become, but they can still be priced at high prices.

At the entrance of the art gallery, the team waiting to enter did not shorten.

It cooled down at noon, and there was no sun and the wind blew, which felt even colder than in the morning.

Han Xuan put on the hat behind the black down jacket and pulled the zipper until it was under his nose.

He hugged Anya and stood next to Owen. This guy was wide and looked like a wall, and it was the best way to block the wind.

I looked at my watch and it was almost twelve o'clock.

The meeting with Buffett is scheduled to be at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I must have gone there early. I can't let the old rich man in his sixties wait. This is too rude.

The plan to enter the ordinary people who were studying in line failed and left the line and walked towards the door of the Whitney Art Museum.

The ticket inspector found out that they wanted to go to the line and was about to remind him that Han Xuan lifted his mask and exposed this face with extremely high recognition.

The two ticket inspectors immediately walked to the side, gave way out of the passage, and bowed to say hello together.

He and his bodyguards were allowed to go in without checking the tickets. Following the prompts, he came to an exhibition hall on the second floor.

As the glass door was pushed open, a heat wave came over and the heating was adjusted to a very high temperature, making tourists take off their coats.

I was afraid that those more than thirty oil paintings would be wet by the moisture in the heating, so they were placed in a sealed glass cabinet.

When Han Xuan saw those people passing by in the crowd, he realized why the art museum had to turn the temperature so high.

The waiters present, both men and women, only wore underwear.

Other parts are covered with colorful painted patterns, covering the whole body.

This kind of art expression that has just emerged recently has existed since ancient times. People endured pain and engraved the totem on themselves.

Nowadays, these paintings have nothing to do with prayer or faith, but are purely expressing the beauty of the human body.

It is true that the United States is open, but tourists will find it difficult to accept this form of art for a while and their expressions are shocked.

The men's eyes were straight and they didn't blink.

Among them is Han Xuan. He squinted his eyes and looked at him for a long time, but he didn't see anything he wanted to see. As for what he wanted to see... you know.

It’s just that the “cloth” is replaced with “pigment” and covering the body. In addition to seeing the real measurements, everything that should be covered is covered.

Gabriel looked at the roof and muttered: "If it rained at this time, it would be great that it would be washed clean."

Many men around him deeply agreed, gestured a thumbs up, and praised him for his wit.

Then he was pinched by his female companion around him, his face turned red and painful.

Anya was frightened by this scene, first covering her eyes, then touching her randomly, covering Han Xuan's... mouth.

As if he noticed something was wrong, he raised his arm and said, "Don't look, they are not wearing any clothes!"

"I know, it's art." Han Xuan took away her hand, then took away Anya's hand covering her own eyes, and said, "You don't want to see Cezanne's paintings. We're going to leave at half past one. Fortunately, there are not many, hurry up."

"There is no place to be enough for such a short time. It takes at least half an hour to read a painting!" Anya couldn't help complaining.

"Stop talking nonsense, it's enough.

My parents and I only took half a day to see the Louvre Museum in France!”

“…Is this something to be proud of?

You can’t tell anything at all, like painting techniques and colors, all take time.”

Han Xuan defended: "Masters are just because they created the genre to become masters.

Look at his still life oil paintings, and I can draw them better than him.

The development of painting techniques to this day has long surpassed Paul Cézanne at that time. I can learn more if I buy a book."

Anya heard him chattering and knew in her heart that this was true, but she didn't want him to slander the master's works, and glared and whispered: "Don't quarrel, be careful that I will beat you."

"Oh! I can pinch you with two fingers."

Han Xuan ignored her threat. Today, after the Body Art Exhibition, there were many people talking. There were no need to deliberately keep quiet. He pointed at the picture "The Player of Cards":

“I bought antiques with my grandpa at the beginning of this year and saw it in the store.

At that time, it was asking for $120 million. When would your paintings be so expensive?"

"After five hundred years after I die, my paintings will be valuable..."

Anya stood in front of a glass cabinet with an oil painting called "The Big Bath Girl". After Han Xuan told the truth, she suddenly felt that it was not that good-looking.

The light and dark effects, perspective and human body proportions are not correct. If oil paintings are painted like this now, they will definitely be scolded by the teacher as a dog, but it is because Cezanne became famous that everything is taken for granted.

I left this painting for boring and started to take a quick look. It took less than ten minutes to read all the oil paintings here.

Cézanne's approach to creating the genre is worthy of recognition, but nothing she can learn.

Anya stared at Han Xuan with her beautiful eyes and said, "You are so hateful!

Congratulations on your success in making me no longer want to see the paintings, let’s go.”

"You said, don't blame me, go have lunch..."

"Ahhh!"

The woman screamed suddenly, followed by a "pop" slap.

Han Xuan turned his head and walked towards the place where the sound came.

I saw an old woman covering her chest with one hand.

The grapes originally used to be bra fell all over the ground, and tears were so angry that they were circulating in their eyes.

The fat old man with braids who was with Baltis just now seemed to be fooled by her slap.

Seeing the people around him approaching, he felt embarrassed and shouted in anger: "How could I know that it was not a grape! You said you could touch it!"

"Wow"

"I think I understand something..."

People sighed.

Han Xuan narrowed his eyes slightly, and he also understood that his smile was mysterious.

Anya pulled him and asked in a daze: "What's going on? Why did she cry?"

"This old man bumped into her. It should hurt, it's okay."

Han Xuan fooled it with a random reason. Seeing the manager's appearance coming, he said a few words to the woman, then lowered his head and said something to the old man. He probably was mediating as a peacemaker and left soon.

I didn't see a good show, so I zipped my clothes and helped Anya put on her coat, planning to leave here.

When I met Baltis halfway through, I wanted to say hello to Anya, holding a piece of paper in my hand, probably a signature. Anya just asked him for a while.

Han Xuan, with a vigilant look, bypassed Baltis directly and did not give him a chance to speak.

This old man is old and can't afford to mess with him and hide. If he encounters him, he might go there.

I will recite the name of a murderer for no reason, and who will I cry when I go to?

Walking far away, pointing at the old man's back, and seriously instructing Anya, "Don't talk to him in the future, his mind..."

"Um?"

"Something went wrong, just ignore him anyway."

The Xiangjiang man had also come out before. He found Han Xuan and caught up and said, "konn-ni-qi-a (Hello), hey?

Why do you look so much like that Han Han?”

"Exposed, run!"

Under his surprised eyes, Han Xuan lost his shadow...
Chapter completed!