Oil painting paper was cheaper and easier to handle than canvas, making it suitable for beginners' daily practice.
But oil painting was a specialty art form — art students typically needed a solid foundation before they could even attempt it, and by that point most had already lost interest in oil paper as a beginner material. So when Chen Ge spotted the oil paper on the easel, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. What kind of person had created this piece?
Chen Ge had studied toy design and manufacturing in college and had taken a few courses related to art and art appreciation. He could pick up on certain techniques from the other person's seemingly simple composition. Whoever painted this was definitely not a novice.
"He seems to be experimenting constantly, trying to express something." Chen Ge's fingers traced across the paper's surface — the upper half was rough, the lower half was smooth, two completely different textures. "Why did he insist on oil painting? Could it be that only oil painting could convey what he meant?"
Two inverted hospital rooms, two patients who looked exactly the same. From the composition alone, nothing seemed off — it was only when he touched the paper that he noticed the two halves appeared to be made of different materials.
"This is oil painting. Do I need to smear paint on it to see the difference?"
Holding the attitude of just giving it a try, Chen Ge lifted the white cloth covering the shelf and prepared to select some paint.
The shelf was enormous. The paints here were nothing like those sold in stores — they were all stored in individual glass cups, with no labels or instructions of any kind.
"Why… is there only red?"
Staring at row upon row of glass cups, Chen Ge froze in place. The shelf held every conceivable shade of red, but besides red, there wasn't a single other color.
He reached out and twisted open a cup lid. A faint scent of blood drifted out, and Chen Ge could tell with certainty this was not the smell oil paint was supposed to give off.
"I'll use this."
Chen Ge picked up the brush from the easel and smeared the red liquid from the cup onto the oil paper.
With the very first stroke, he noticed a problem.
There seemed to be an invisible dividing line running through the center of the paper. The dye from the cup left only a faint, pale red mark on the upper half, but carved a deep crimson, almost scar-like streak across the lower half.
After a few more continuous strokes, the painting on the easel had transformed.
The upper half now looked like merely a hospital room bathed in soft red light, but the lower half appeared drenched in blood water.
The patient in the painting had the exact same expression in both halves, yet the feeling they gave off was worlds apart.
One looked completely ordinary, its expression slightly vacant. The other was drenched in blood red, its face crusted with loathing and resentment.
"Is this painting reflecting the world behind the door? Or is there another meaning?"
A few seconds later, Chen Ge witnessed something even more remarkable.
The peculiar paper was slowly fading in color on its upper half while the lower half kept deepening, as if the top half of the painting were pouring all of its redness down into the bottom half.
"Isn't that exactly how it works between the worlds inside and outside the door? The despair from reality keeps surging into the world behind the door — one purifies itself while the other only grows more and more despairing."
The more Chen Ge looked, the more convinced he became that this painting was connected to the door. He tried to take it down, but he had only gotten halfway when he suddenly heard knocking at the door outside.
"That thing is here?"
Every hair on his body stood on end in an instant. Chen Ge decisively abandoned any thought of taking the painting. He snatched a discarded sketch from the floor and hurried over to the window.
Before entering this building, Chen Ge had already checked from outside — none of the windows had security grilles installed.
He pulled aside the heavy, gray-black curtains and pushed open the window. Just as he was about to climb out, he suddenly spotted a person standing below.
The figure had its head down, wore leather shoes, was tall and thin, and its posture was far from normal.
"Teacher Bai?"
Teacher Bai, who was supposed to be stationed in the boys' dormitory, had somehow appeared around the laboratory building. He seemed to be searching for something.