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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: Secrets of the Gallery

Chapter 3: Secrets of the Gallery

The sweltering afternoon air was thick with a stifling humidity that unsettled the nerves. Lin Mo pushed open the glass doors of the gallery, the blast of cold air from inside sending a slight shiver down his spine. The exhibition hall was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of an antique clock on the wall.

"Miss Su is upstairs," the receptionist said without looking up. "She mentioned that you can go straight up when you arrive."

Lin Mo nodded and headed for the stairs. The second floor housed the gallery's offices, and he made his way familiarly to Su Yuqing's office. The door was ajar, and from inside came hushed voices.

"The schedule cannot be changed. It must proceed as planned.""But M1924—""I said, everything stays on track!"

The voice was Su Yuqing's, but her tone was so unfamiliar that Lin Mo froze in place. Moments later, the conversation switched to a language he couldn't understand—possibly from Eastern Europe. Lin Mo hesitated, debating whether to knock, when the voices abruptly stopped.

"Come in," Su Yuqing's voice, now back to its usual gentle cadence, called out.

Lin Mo pushed the door open. Su Yuqing sat at her desk, typing rapidly on her keyboard. She wore a navy-blue dress that day, the butterfly-shaped brooch on her chest gleaming under the light.

"Sorry, I was just handling some international exhibition matters," she explained, though her eyes darted nervously.

"I remember you said you only spoke English and French?" Lin Mo asked casually.

"Ah, that was... Russian. I've been learning it recently to communicate with galleries in Moscow." Su Yuqing stood up, changing the subject. "Shall we grab a coffee?"

Before they could leave, Gu Yun entered. He wore a sharply tailored dark suit, a butterfly brooch similar to Su Yuqing's pinned to his chest, though his featured a butterfly with outstretched wings.

"Mr. Lin is here too," Gu Yun said with a smile, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "Miss Su, are the documents for Morning Light on the Lake ready?"

"Here they are." Su Yuqing retrieved a folder from her drawer.

Lin Mo noticed the folder bore the label "M1924," the same code as on the exhibition invitation. As Gu Yun took the folder, their fingers seemed to brush, whether intentionally or not.

"Is that painting really worth all this effort?" Lin Mo asked.

"Of course," Gu Yun's tone turned unexpectedly stern. "It's—"

"—a critically important piece," Su Yuqing interjected, cutting him off. "It's vital for the gallery's reputation."

Gu Yun gave Su Yuqing a meaningful glance before turning to leave the office.

As Lin Mo exited the gallery, he wandered into the ground-floor exhibition hall and happened upon an auction catalog. Flipping through it, a photograph caught his eye: a butterfly brooch identical to Su Yuqing's. The caption read: "1924 Russian imperial treasure. Original owner unknown. Last seen at public auction in..." The rest of the text had been torn away.

Lin Mo closed the catalog thoughtfully. Looking back upstairs, he glimpsed the mysterious man in black slipping through a side exit. He quickly followed, only to find a firmly closed metal door.

As he turned to leave, he heard faint whispers:

"It's confirmed. She's the one.""Don't alert her. Keep watching."

The voices vanished behind the door. Lin Mo stood there, a creeping sense that he'd stumbled onto something he shouldn't have.

That evening, Lin Mo researched Morning Light on the Lake. The painting's origins were shrouded in mystery, rumored to have been part of an Eastern European noble's collection during a period of political upheaval. But what intrigued him most were the close-up images of the painting—the brushstrokes seemed slightly different from the version he had seen at the gallery.

The next morning, Lin Mo returned to the gallery. Under the pretense of inspecting picture frames, he examined Morning Light on the Lake closely. While the overall effect was flawless, certain details did indeed deviate from the reference photos.

"What are you looking at?" Su Yuqing's voice startled him from behind.

"This painting... it doesn't quite match the photos," he replied.

"That's because it's been restored," Su Yuqing said calmly. "Many valuable paintings require regular restoration."

Her explanation was reasonable, yet Lin Mo couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Just then, another staff member hurried over.

"Miss Su, there's a call from Moscow."

Su Yuqing left in a hurry, her antique wristwatch showing precisely eight o'clock. Lin Mo recalled all the strange events of late: her fixed hours of disappearance, mysterious phone calls, the origin of the butterfly brooch, anomalies in the painting, and the shadowy figure who seemed to follow her. Could all this be coincidence?

Taking advantage of the moment, Lin Mo slipped into Su Yuqing's art studio. The room was minimally decorated but exuded professionalism: easels, paints, and brushes neatly arranged. In a corner, a slightly open cabinet revealed the edge of a red notebook.

Lin Mo hesitated before picking it up. The pages were filled with writing, but the ink was so faint it was nearly illegible. As he strained to read, footsteps approached.

"Lin Mo? What are you doing here?"

It was Gu Yun. Flustered, Lin Mo quickly replaced the notebook.

"I... was curious about Su Yuqing's workspace."

Gu Yun's gaze lingered on the notebook for a second, a flicker of tension crossing his face.

"This is a private space," he said. "You should leave."

As Lin Mo left, he glanced back to see Gu Yun by the window, speaking softly into his phone:

"Someone's getting suspicious... No, it won't affect the plan."

That afternoon, Lin Mo watched the gallery from a café across the street. At three o'clock sharp, Su Yuqing appeared, disappearing for her usual two hours. Shortly after she left, the man in black hurried away as well.

At five, Su Yuqing returned, carrying a black briefcase. Lin Mo noticed her makeup seemed freshly touched up, and she had swapped her scarf for a different one.

At eight, the gallery closed as usual. From his hiding spot, Lin Mo saw the last employees leave. Just as he was about to turn away, he froze.

Outside the gallery's side door, Su Yuqing was speaking to the man in black. Under the moonlight, their expressions were unusually grave. The man handed her an envelope, and she gave him a USB drive in return.

The entire exchange lasted no more than ten seconds, but it was enough to confirm Lin Mo's suspicions: Su Yuqing was far from the simple gallery owner she appeared to be.

At home, Lin Mo compiled a list of recent clues:

The recurring M1924 code.

The butterfly brooch's true origins.

Anomalies in Morning Light on the Lake.

Fixed hours of disappearance.

The mysterious man in black.

The notebook with faint writing.

Su Yuqing and Gu Yun's enigmatic connection.

He scrutinized the list, searching for links between the seemingly disparate pieces. His gut told him that these events were part of a much larger mystery.

Late that night, a secure message appeared on Su Yuqing's phone:"The target is growing suspicious. Terminate?"

She gazed at the moonlight streaming through her window, her fingers lightly brushing the butterfly brooch at her chest. She replied:"Continue. Time is running out."

Meanwhile, in the gallery's surveillance room, the man in black reviewed the day's footage. Speaking into his radio, he murmured:"Headquarters says this operation has caught Interpol's attention."

On the other end, Gu Yun's calm voice responded:"Tell them everything is under control."

The moonlit city was settling into slumber, but hidden currents churned beneath its surface. Unbeknownst to anyone, a meticulously orchestrated operation was unfolding in the art world, and Lin Mo had unwittingly stepped into its heart.

In the gallery's shadowy recesses, Morning Light on the Lake hung silently on the wall. The serene lake depicted in the painting belied the unusual details within its brushstrokes—details that could hold the key to unraveling the mystery.

As the next day dawned, the unfolding story promised to bring answers—but also deeper questions.