Such a beautiful young man, possessing the rawness unique to his age, stirring every girl’s heart unknowingly with his youthful charm, must be the most enchanting of all.
Especially since he also possesses a maturity, rationality, and wisdom not typical for his age.
Such a rarity.
He’s truly a treasure of a boy, Hua Jie thought, feeling it completely reasonable to like him.
However, what’s strange is that knowing Fang Shaojun likes Shen Mo, she didn’t feel any hostility or competitiveness towards her; instead, she felt a sense of camaraderie.
It was like finding a fellow fan, and she even felt a slight impulse to join the other in praising their idol Shen Mo.
But…
Glancing at Fang Shaojun’s aloof and distinguished demeanor, she decided to control herself.
The other probably wouldn’t appreciate sharing.
Fang Shaojun’s emotions, like hers, were likely different.
Simple girlish love, surely filled with possessiveness.
Yet, Hua Jie found it hard to imagine Shen Mo in a romantic relationship.
Those love dramas she had seen in the future, where the male lead gets splashed with coffee or wine by the female lead and then gets attracted to her; the male lead pins the female lead against the wall to kiss her; the male lead refuses to marry anyone but her and even cries for her… These scenarios seemed so out of place with Shen Mo.
She scratched her head, imagining the lazy, indifferent, proud, and flamboyant young man being deeply troubled over a woman…
It’s strange, she thought, blaming her lack of experience for her limited imagination in this area.
Putting aside her peculiar thoughts, she noticed the teacher had already collected the paintings submitted by Fang Shaojun and Lu Yunfei into a brown paper bag.
Qian Chong’s painting was being scrutinized by Teacher Shen, his brows furrowing as he looked.
This was a painting of a sunset over a snowy landscape. Shen Jiaru remembered this painting; when Qian Chong painted it last week, it wasn’t so gloomy. It seems the effect now was the result of this week’s retouching.
Shen Jiaru turned to look at Qian Chong, hesitated as if he wanted to say something, but finally just nodded and said, “Your style is becoming more pronounced, and the emotional expression is very rich.”
He could teach them how to paint, but he couldn’t change the fundamental aspects of their personalities.
Some things they had to choose for themselves.
“Teacher, can we make it into the top ten?” It was still the restless young student who couldn’t hold his peace, breaking the atmosphere filled with pressure and anxiety.
Shen Jiaru looked up at him, then at the other three eager students, and smiled lightly:
“You are just starting out, and in this competition, you’re up against people who have been studying in universities for many years, which isn’t really fair.”
“However, each of you has your own strengths, you all have strong talents, and you’ve been under my tutelage for a while, so you probably won’t be worse off than the others.”
“Making it into the top 30 shouldn’t be a problem, but as for the top ten, that’s uncertain, as the judges are veteran academics whose tastes may not represent the entire market.”
“Don’t worry too much about your ranking in the competition; it’s more about your future influence in the art world and your market appeal.”
“I don’t really think this competition will determine anything; it’s just a chance for you to showcase your skills and broaden your horizons.”
“Just relax.”
Throughout the conversation, Shen Jiaru’s inherent aloofness and pride were fully on display.
He seemed to care little for many of the world’s rules.
It might not be that he didn’t care, but rather that his perspective was higher, which naturally revealed his level and his attitude of looking down on these matters.
The four students fell silent, seemingly not quite comforted by his words.
Qian Chong felt even more pressure; with a teacher so esteemed, if he couldn’t secure a place in a competition that the teacher barely cared about, it would be a huge embarrassment.
When it was Hua Jie’s turn, Lu Yunfei had already packed his drawing board and backpack and left.
Fang Shaojun had also packed up and was saying goodbye to Shen Jiaru at the door.
Only Qian Chong stayed, peering curiously at Hua Jie’s paintings in Shen Jiaru’s hands, which even included a gouache painting.
Each one was indeed wonderful, especially since “Carpenter” and “Waiting for the Bus to Return to the Village” were earlier works and had a different style.
Shen Jiaru looked at them, finally picking up “Countless Selves in Ice Crystals” and said:
“It will be this one.”
Saying this, he placed the watercolor painting into a brown paper bag, stacking it with the paintings from the other three students.
Hua Jie nodded, “Okay, Teacher.”
She reached to take the other two paintings, but Qian Chong quickly grabbed them to take a closer look.
He couldn’t help but admit that although Hua Jie’s gouache paintings were a bit mixed in terms of artistic elements, they were very thoughtful in many areas.
Previously, he had rejected everything about her, unwilling to analyze her paintings closely as if doing so meant admitting defeat.
Now, having seen her vulnerable side, his hostility and competitive spirit towards her had suddenly diminished.
Now facing her gouache paintings again, he could study and learn from them calmly.
He wanted to see how she handled emotional expression in her paintings, and what exactly was the ‘avant-garde’ technique praised by the teacher.
“I’ll take a look,” he said.
“Sure,” Hua Jie withdrew her hand, letting him look if he wanted to.
At that moment, the telephone in the living room rang, and Shen Jiaru went out to answer it.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the caller got straight to the point:
“Teacher Shen, I heard that you’re submitting four paintings to the competition organized by Tsinghua University of Arts?”
The call was from another domestic painter, Ju Lei.
Although Ju Lei was older than Shen Jiaru, he became famous later than Shen Jiaru, and it seemed his life was always one step behind, always chasing after Shen Jiaru, and every bit of glory came to him later than it did to Shen Jiaru.
In terms of popularity abroad, he couldn’t compare to Shen Jiaru at all.
Thus, even though Ju Lei had grown increasingly influential and powerful domestically due to his long-standing involvement with the China Artists Association, he still harbored a grudge.
Last year, Ju Lei started an art class and took on 10 students, all reportedly new star talents.
Perhaps because he always felt less accomplished, he had suddenly shifted his competitive spirit onto the next generation.
Ju Lei placed great importance on this competition organized by Tsinghua University of Arts, especially because Shen Jiaru’s students would be participating.
“Yes, all four students are participating,” Shen Jiaru nodded, merely answering the question without any reciprocal curiosity about whether Ju Lei had students participating in the competition.
It was exactly this lack of concern that stung even more.
Ju Lei choked up a bit, then half-jokingly said:
“Let’s compare then, and see whose students make it into the top ten more often, shall we?”
“You also have 4 students participating in the competition?” Shen Jiaru raised an eyebrow, turning his head to see Fang Shaojun standing at the doorway, having changed her shoes but not yet left, solemnly listening to his phone conversation.
“I have 10 students in total, but since you have only 4 participating, I’ll just choose the best 4 from mine,” Ju Lei said with a laugh, but his words were exceptionally autocratic and cold, quietly stripping the other 6 students of their right to compete and exhibit.
“Suit yourself,” Shen Jiaru replied nonchalantly, really bored with such trivial games at his age.
Leaning against the wall, he felt somewhat disinterested.
Ju Lei’s paintings always lacked that final touch, probably because he spent too much effort on these pointless things.
Always up to useless antics.
Fang Shaojun pursed her lips as she listened for a while, and having grasped what the conversation was about, she took a deep breath, nodded to Shen Jiaru in farewell, and left with immense pressure as she walked out of the villa.
Once the paintings left this studio, it was no longer just about honing her skills or competing against her abilities from the day before.
Starting with this competition at Tsinghua University of Arts, she would be competing against young artists nationwide.
Especially since she was not just representing herself but also Shen Jiaru.
For someone as competitive and strong-willed as her, the feeling of suffocation in her chest seemed even heavier.
…
Back in the studio, Qian Chong stared unblinkingly at Hua Jie’s “Carpenter,” as if mentally rehearsing how she detailed each stroke of the painting.
Hua Jie wanted to discuss the painting with him, but seeing him so absorbed, she refrained from speaking.
Just then, the studio door suddenly opened, and Shen Mo waved at her.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Going grocery shopping, weren’t you going to show your filial piety to Teacher Shen by cooking him a big meal?” Shen Mo leaned on the doorframe, glancing at the other boy in the studio.
After scrutinizing his hairstyle, he recognized him as the student who had previously bullied Little Potato, probably named Qian Chong.
How come he wasn’t bullying anyone now but instead treasuring Little Potato’s painting as if it were a priceless treasure?
Has Little Potato finally conquered one of her dad’s thorniest students with her superlative painting skills?
Truly worthy of being his Little Potato.
As Hua Jie got up to leave with Shen Mo, she caught him suddenly starting to smile broadly, looking as pleased as if he had just found 100 yuan.
“What are you so happy about?” she asked.
“My dog is going to a dog show, and I think she’ll win first place,” Shen Mo said with a grin, looking down at her.
“When did you get a dog?” Hua Jie raised an eyebrow in confusion.
A dog this fancy?
A purebred?
And it’s participating in a dog show?
As she mulled over these questions, Hua Jie caught his mischievous smile and suddenly realized he seemed to be talking about her…
“You’re the dog!” she exclaimed, swinging her fist toward his shoulder, but Shen Mo easily dodged with a large step.
He grabbed her down jacket hanging by the door and threw it over her head, trapping her movements and causing her to yelp in frustration.
By the time Hua Jie had managed to put on her jacket, Shen Mo had already headed out into the yard.
Zhao Xiaolei passed by Hua Jie as she chased after Shen Mo, seeing the young couple’s playful banter, he smiled enviously and pushed open the door that had just been closed.
“Teacher, my car is still running, shall I send the paintings now?” Zhao Xiaolei asked quietly.
“The stack on the red table in the studio, packed in a brown paper bag,” Shen Jiaru covered the mouthpiece and gestured towards the large studio downstairs.
Zhao Xiaolei acknowledged and headed straight for the studio.
As he was about to push the door, Qian Chong came out, nearly colliding with him.
“Teacher Zhao.” Qian Chong quickly moved aside to avoid bumping into him, gave a brief greeting, then turned to Shen Jiaru and said:
“Goodbye, Teacher Shen.”
Zhao Xiaolei entered the studio and immediately saw the brown paper bag on the red table with several paintings on top. The label on the topmost painting read Hua Jie, and the title was “Waiting for the Bus to Return to the Village.”
He thought to himself, ‘Hua Jie is using this gouache painting for the competition?’ Then, without much thought, he took the two paintings Qian Chong had casually placed on top of the brown paper bag, assuming they were competition entries, stuffed them into the bag, and took them all out of the studio.
“Teacher, I’ll go mail these and then come back for lunch,” Zhao Xiaolei said as he left.
Shen Jiaru glanced briefly at the brown paper bag under his arm and nodded reassuringly, then continued to patiently deal with Ju Lei’s enthusiastic explanation about a so-called reformation movement in the art world, all the while irritably tapping his fingers on the table, wishing he could pretend the line was bad and hang up the phone.
Before lunch, when Hua Jie returned to Shen Jiaru’s studio to organize her things, no one realized that all three paintings she had brought today had been mailed to Beijing.