When Zhao Jinhui returned to the classroom with a gloomy face, dragging his desk from the washroom, he never bumped into Hua Jie’s chair again, always keeping a distance of two to three centimeters between his desk and Hua Jie’s chair.
Some people just won’t behave unless taught a lesson; commonly known as needing a good smack.
Shen Mo didn’t say he had someone do it, but there were still two female classmates in the class at the time, and someone spread the gossip right away.
Hua Jie, now enjoying her clean space, occasionally glanced at Shen Mo, who remained indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
Truly a good Samaritan, doing good without seeking recognition.
Hua Jie felt a bit happy, as if she were a fan being spoiled by her idol.
She felt jubilant.
Quietly noting it in her heart.
Hua Jie couldn’t owe anyone favors, couldn’t refrain from speaking out, and she must find opportunities to repay kindness even more!
…
Shen Mo didn’t really expect anything from Hua Jie; he was just returning the favor.
He wouldn’t take advantage of Little Potato; free milk tea wasn’t to be taken for granted. In the future… well, occasionally, he’d cover for her.
…
…
Studying hard, painting well, Hua Jie hoped this week would pass quickly.
She wasn’t in a hurry to buy a bicycle; she had already found out how to take the bus to Jinsong Vocational College and prepared to present a few of her own paintings to the teacher as a stepping stone.
All set, just waiting for the right moment.
After countless hopes, Saturday finally arrived neither fast nor slow.
Hua Jie dressed up for the day, mainly to ensure that she was wearing clean and tidy clothes. Given her family’s current situation, wearing new clothes every day was impossible. She only had a few outfits, so there wasn’t much to choose from.
Carrying the hope of finding a good watercolor teacher, she set off like a sailor embarking on a long voyage, full of determination.
The buses in Jinsong City moved as slow as turtles, unlike the ones she later rode in Shanghai, which seemed to fly like airplanes.
Bus No. 2 swayed its way to the terminus, then she switched to Bus No. 8 and continued swaying.
Jinsong Vocational School was located at the northernmost edge of the city, in a very remote area. It was Hua Jie’s first time coming here in her two lifetimes.
It was not very imposing but still a spacious and well-organized school. Although not considered a higher education institution, it had nurtured many talents who could stand on their own in society.
Hua Jie’s cousin studied music here and later became a teacher in the county next to Jinsong City after graduation.
There was also a middle school classmate who studied art here, then went to Beijing after graduation to pursue a career. Later, she became an independent designer in a studio and lived well.
— Later, people in the city would call this place the “New Oriental of Jinsong.”
At that time, the university campus was not very strictly managed yet. Hua Jie walked confidently with her drawing board on her back, and the security guard just glanced at her before continuing to doze off.
The campus was lined with trees, and fallen leaves piled up on the roadside, showing the cold silence of late autumn.
The tall trees in the north were arrogant, with branches stretching towards the sky like ghosts.
Occasionally, scattered students moved between the paths and the woods.
Hua Jie asked a few girls for directions and eventually found the office of the duty teacher in the art department.
Generally, universities didn’t have classes on Saturdays. She had come to inquire and gather information before slowly progressing further.
As a result, she was exceptionally lucky. For some reason, all the teachers in the art department office were there.
Working overtime on a Saturday, the staff was very organized.
A 15-year-old girl stood at the doorway of the office, looking at the teachers gathered around a table chatting.
At a glance, it was obvious they were all involved in art—
The bald male teacher, the casually dressed female teacher, the long-haired male teacher with a beard, the male teacher in a Zhongshan suit looking rather world-weary…
They all exuded an artistic vibe.
These uniquely styled individuals, some leaned against the radiator smoking, some sat on the office desk cracking seeds, some had pencils behind their ears and cigarettes in their mouths…
Hua Jie felt a bit embarrassed.
Fortunately, they were in the art department office. If they had gathered by the construction site of a new building, it wouldn’t be much different from bricklayers.
They would even resemble bricklayers who could get into fights at any moment.
The teachers were also taken aback by the sudden intrusion of such a young girl into the office on a weekend with no classes.
The head of the art department, who was exhaling smoke, extinguished his cigarette and made an effort to maintain the demeanor of a teacher as he held the cigarette butt.
“Are you a student from our department?” He noticed Hua Jie’s drawing board and asked.
“Hello, teachers. Could you please tell me who the watercolor painting teacher is?” Hua Jie greeted them very politely and then went straight to the point without any hesitation.
Several teachers immediately looked towards a young teacher leaning against the radiator and a female teacher sitting behind the office desk.
The female teacher propped her chin and glanced at the young teacher, gesturing for him to inquire about the situation.
The young teacher, with a hairstyle popular in the 2000s, hands in pockets, leaned lazily, and straightened up in the gaze of everyone. His slender hands, used for drawing, emerged from his pockets. He didn’t speak until he reached Hua Jie:
“What’s the matter?”
His voice was somewhat soft, and his speech was a bit slow, as if he had just woken up.
“Hello, teacher. My name is Hua Jie, a freshman at the City No.1 High School. I want to learn watercolor painting.” She had rehearsed these words on her way here, so she spoke without hesitation.
Zhao Xiaolei frowned slightly, feeling somewhat puzzled by the sudden appearance of this strange girl who suddenly clamored to learn watercolor. He glanced back at the other teachers behind him, hesitated for a moment, then suddenly bypassed Hua Jie and pushed open the office door. As he walked out, he said, “Come with me to the adjacent studio and speak.”
“Yes, teacher.” Hua Jie replied, then turned to bow to the other teachers inside the office before obediently following Zhao Xiaolei out.
The teachers looked at each other in confusion.
The female teacher who propped her chin suddenly smiled and asked the head of the department, “This is the first time I’ve encountered a freshman coming to request lessons. Have you ever encountered this, Director?”
“I haven’t. Are kids nowadays all so bold? Without parents or acquaintances accompanying them, they just come on their own?” The department head couldn’t help but feel some emotion.
“My niece is also this age, never talks to strangers, just answers questions briefly, and is quite timid,” the male teacher smoking on the desk chimed in.
“What time is Mr. Shen arriving?” the department head waved his hand, steering the conversation back to what was happening before the girl barged in.
“Maybe in half an hour,” the bald teacher replied.
“Stop smoking. The room is full of smoke. I brought good tea. Is the tea set prepared as I instructed?”
As the department head spoke, the teachers dispersed, extinguishing their cigarettes. Some opened windows for ventilation, some tidied up sunflower seed shells, and some rinsed the tea set. They busied themselves in preparation to welcome the esteemed guest, Shen Jiaru.
…
…
In the adjacent studio, several students had set up still life arrangements for practice. When Zhao Xiaolei entered, they all smiled and greeted him, clearly indicating that Teacher Zhao was quite popular at school.
“Who told you to come here looking for a teacher?” Zhao Xiaolei gestured for Hua Jie to sit on a small stool in the corner of the studio. He stood by the radiator under the window, crossing his legs and casually assessing the girl in front of him with a faint expression.
Slim and petite, she was just a little girl with black hair.
“No one told me. I came by myself,” Hua Jie replied, then added, “Nowadays, most of the art classes available to prepare for the college entrance examination are focused on teaching gouache painting, but I want to learn watercolor. I heard there’s a watercolor class here, so I came.”
“But you’re not a student here,” Zhao Xiaolei pursed his lips, hands supporting him from behind as he glanced out the window before turning back and saying softly:
“I don’t privately offer art classes. You should go home.”
He spoke softly, as if coaxing a child.
To attend Jinsong Vocational School, one should have participated in the entrance art exam before graduating from middle school, foregoing high school to study here.
Since this child could attend high school and wanted to learn painting, it would be better for her to study cultural courses honestly from now on and diligently study painting, which would be more beneficial for her future college entrance examination.
The sunlight shone on Zhao Xiaolei’s back, turning the short hair on the back of his head brown, making him appear even more lazy.
The female students in the studio couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, their eyes revealing admiration or admiration.
“Teacher, please take a look at my painting. If you think it’s good, consider teaching a little kid on weekends,” Hua Jie persisted. Without waiting for Zhao Xiaolei to refuse, she had already taken out a folding green drawing board and pulled out a stack of paintings from the inner pocket.
“…,” Zhao Xiaolei looked down at her. This child seemed very confident, as if he would definitely accept her as a student once he saw her painting.
In the next moment, as the girl handed the painting to him, Zhao Xiaolei’s gaze instantly focused, sweeping away his previous nonchalant and lazy demeanor.
Standing up straight, he carefully examined the drawings, furrowing his brow, revealing a serious expression, with a hint of amazement in his eyes.
“Did you draw these?” Zhao Xiaolei looked at the two sketches and then looked up at her.
“Yeah,” Hua Jie nodded obediently with her round, watery eyes wide open.
“Did you copy them from an art book?” he asked again.
“No, I asked classmates to model for me and did life drawings,” she replied.
“Did you come up with the structure yourself, or did a teacher guide you, or help you with corrections?” Zhao Xiaolei confirmed once more.
“I came up with it myself. I’ve memorized the facial structure, muscles, and bones,” she said. In her previous life, she didn’t know how many skeletal and muscle diagrams she had drawn.
“…..” Zhao Xiaolei lifted his gaze from the drawing, focusing on Hua Jie’s face, staring into her eyes for a while, as if trying to find any trace of dishonesty.
But apart from the clear, black-and-white clarity and his own reflection, there was nothing.
He lowered his head again and continued to look. When he saw the third watercolor painting, his brow furrowed even tighter. “Did you paint this one too?”
Hua Jie nodded.
“At what age did you start learning to paint?” he asked.
Hua Jie thought for a moment and replied vaguely, “I’ve been painting for many years.”
“……” Zhao Xiaolei looked at her again before asking, “Why do you still want to learn watercolor?”
If this level is maintained, it’s enough to participate in the college entrance examination for art.
“I really like it,” she said, “I like playing with water… I like how the colors blend and flow on the paper under the influence of water, like lying on the grass after the rain in a raincoat from childhood, watching the clouds illuminated by the rainbow.”
“Watercolor has life. Colors grow, stretch, and flow freely on the paper.”
As she spoke, Hua Jie stretched out her arms like a bird and smiled again, “I like watercolor paintings, they’re like vague poetry. I like the clarity and purity of watercolor paintings, and I like the rhythmic flow of watercolor paintings.”
“I like how colors spread out on damp paper, like countless tentacles, like Shanghai after the rain, like London in the fog—”
Zhao Xiaolei interrupted the romantic girl’s heartwarming words with a wave of his hand. He stared at the painting for a while, then said:
“Draw a few strokes for me now.”
He still doubted whether a child of her age could paint such a picture. He wanted to make sure that the painting in his hand was really completed independently by her.
Even if she looked cute and had clear eyes, he couldn’t rule out the possibility that she was a liar.
Hua Jie didn’t hesitate or show fear at all; she agreed right away.
So, Zhao Xiaolei called on several students in the studio to contribute watercolor paints, brushes, watercolor paper, and boards, and pieced together a setup of still life.
“Go ahead.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Hua Jie’s first pencil stroke had already landed on the paper.
Then, with a few strokes, she outlined the auxiliary lines, indicating the position of the still life objects. After that, she put down the pencil, took up the watercolor brush, mixed colors, tested them, and began painting…
Her confident strokes, the decisive dipping of colors as soon as she glanced at them, made her seem like a seasoned artist who never parted from her brushes every day, completely contradicting her current youthful appearance.
Zhao Xiaolei pursed his lips, feeling increasingly excited as he watched.
The other students who drew every day also put down their own drawings and stood behind Teacher Zhao, watching the little girl paint.
Zhao Xiaolei’s heartbeat gradually accelerated. This was the emotional fluctuation he only experienced when he saw excellent artwork.
The girl in front of him struck him like a heavy blow, making him wonder if there really were geniuses in the world.
At just 15 years old, her compositions were so precise.
Her color mixing was accurate… Her sense of color was truly exceptional.
Her brushstrokes were skillful and proficient, precise and swift. Unlike other artists who hesitated and trembled before making a stroke, unsure if it would be right, she immediately pinpointed the position with her eyes, and her hand followed suit, drawing with precision and confidence, making any viewer feel at ease.
That was how Zhao Xiaolei felt at the moment. He had never encountered such a child before, and even apart from Teacher Shen Jiaru, no other teacher had such a comfortable painting process.
When he saw Hua Jie finish the first layer of structural color, he didn’t need to see more. Everything was crystal clear.
“Teacher Zhao, which of these two reds do you think is better?” When she started the second layer, Hua Jie suddenly turned to ask Zhao Xiaolei.
“The orange-red is closer to the color of persimmons,” Zhao Xiaolei quickly replied.
Hua Jie nodded, but she felt that true red was better. Although orange-red was closer to the original color of the still life, when paired with the environmental colors, true red would be more harmonious and better reflect the position of the persimmons in the entire still life arrangement.
Even when painting watercolors, one must consider the relationship between light and shadow.
Considering the position of the persimmons in terms of light and shadow, adding a layer of shadow to the orange-red color would turn it into true red.
In her mind, Hua Jie deducted one point from Teacher Zhao Xiaolei.