In the painting, a young woman faces the setting sun, her skin bathed in a warm golden hue.
The golden tips of her eyelashes, the brilliance of her pupils, the delicate shimmer along her nose and cheekbones, the full gloss on her lips…
Her black hair is tinted tea-colored by the sunlight, and the light refracted off the red curtains casts a warm, molten red aura on the other side, blending gold, black, dark red, brown, and various other colors into the strands facing the sunrise.
In the shadows of her hair, there are variegated cool tones, interlaced with long hair wound into a bun using a blue clip…
Hua Jie’s painting is so rich in color.
Splashes of vibrant paint layer upon layer on the canvas, creating a three-dimensional beauty who glances around, looking out the window as if awaiting a lover, yet seems immersed in the reminiscence of the past sunset.
Lu Yunfei is stunned, finding himself at a loss for words.
His own paintings are quite good, yet they still focus mainly on form and detail, lacking emotional expression.
But Hua Jie, with her brushstrokes and colors, displays a serene and warm emotion. Looking at Hua Jie, the artist, she seems to possess an added charm of gentle elegance.
Lu Yunfei purses his lips and sneaks a peek at the young girl, then lowers his gaze and sighs softly.
His grip tightens around the brush, unaware of the paint smearing on his trousers.
Qian Chong stares blankly at Hua Jie’s painting, several times he parts his lips to speak but fails to utter a word.
After staring blankly for a good while, he gradually regains his wandering spirit—
“The way you handled the shadows…” Qian Chong grinds his teeth, struggling to finish his sentence, his eyebrows raised sky-high, his expression extremely unpleasant.
“Yep, I referenced your method of using large blocks of cool colors. I didn’t want you to feel cheated with another technique, so I used your style, leaving you no room to complain,” Hua Jie replies lightly.
“That’s it? Hmph!” Qian Chong mutters scornfully, his tone far less confident than before painting, inexplicably seeming somewhat feeble.
“What’s the matter? Still think I’m not up to par? Still want to mock my painting skills?”
“Think I’m at your elementary school level?”
“I’ll never catch up to you?”
“Think I’m a disgrace to Master Shen’s tutelage?”
With each question, Hua Jie uses the very words he had used to mock her earlier.
Her tone is calm, her enunciation clear, devoid of intense emotions, yet strikingly cold and poignant.
Qian Chong felt as if his heart was being torn to shreds.
He stared at Hua Jie’s painting, veins bulging on his forehead, neither turning his head to look at her nor daring to look at anyone else.
This was the most embarrassing moment since he started learning to paint with Teacher Shen.
How could he have expected that this person, who had learned watercolor painting from the teacher, would paint with such frenzy in gouache?!
How could she even know how to paint with gouache?
How much time could one person possibly have?
Doesn’t she sleep at night?
Has she been painting since birth?
Is she some kind of beast???
Suddenly, with his face flushing red, he turned around and barked angrily:
“You’re just bullying me because I don’t know you well enough, playing dirty, aren’t you? We agreed that you would compete with me in watercolor!”
“…” Hua Jie’s face grew stern, unyielding:
“You dare to mock me constantly without understanding me?”
“Were Fang Shaojun and Lu Yunfei not present just now? When did you hear me say I could only use watercolor?”
“Can’t admit when someone is better?”
“When you enter society, if someone doesn’t buy your paintings, will you curse the streets, claiming they don’t recognize good art?”
“You—” Qian Chong was nearly driven to his wit’s end by her.
“Teacher, between these two paintings by me and Qian Chong, which do you think is better?” Hua Jie turned to ask the judge.
Shen Jiaru looked at Qian Chong and asked, “Do I even need to say anything?”
“…” Qian Chong’s face turned beet red, his ears seemingly about to catch fire, before he finally said, “No need.”
“Mm,” Shen Jiaru nodded.
It was only then that Fang Shaojun snapped out of the mesmerizing array of colors in Hua Jie’s painting. She silently shifted her gaze to her own painting and began to doubt—were her eyes capable of seeing fewer colors than Hua Jie’s?
Why hadn’t she seen so many colors when she was painting?
How had she not thought that so many colors were possible…
“No wonder Teacher Shen took Hua Jie as a disciple. Her painting is good, better than both Qian Chong and Lu Yunfei.” Fang Shaojun suddenly spoke up, her eyes coolly shifting towards Qian Chong, devoid of much disdain.
The rabbit dies and the fox grieves.
Qian Chong is not as good as Hua Jie, but what about her?
Is her painting better than Hua Jie’s?
She actually wanted to ask the teacher, but ultimately she didn’t speak.
In that moment, even the proudest had to restrain themselves.
Hearing Fang Shaojun’s words, Lu Yunfei shifted his gaze to her painting, then turned his head away, silently expressing his displeasure.
Qian Chong was more straightforward, immediately retorting:
“So you’re better? Your painting isn’t even as good as mine.”
“Shall we ask the teacher to compare?” Fang Shaojun asked coldly.
“A bunch of beginners!” Teacher Shen Jiaru’s remark brought everyone back to reality:
“Stop comparing yourselves with each other. Why not compare yourselves with the great artists and masters? Raise your standards.”
“What are you all painting now?”
“When you can compare with me, then you can have an attitude.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Suddenly, everyone fell silent.
During the subsequent critique session, Qian Chong was unusually quiet, his spirit seemingly wilted.
When it was Hua Jie’s turn to critique Qian Chong’s painting, she glanced at the boy’s profile, his brows furrowed in defiance, his eyes that had mocked her earlier now lifeless.
She took a deep breath and said:
“The color in the shadow areas is very rich, but the expression of the warm tones of the rising sun is mediocre.”
“It’s a painting where the strengths are prominent, but the flaws cannot be overlooked.”
“The stylized treatment has a lot of artistic beauty. Although I learned Qian Chong’s method of layering cool colors, I couldn’t capture this overall atmosphere.”
“Such a style in the future could be used to express many emotions, and actually has great potential.”
“The accuracy and detail handling are obviously much better than last week; the foundation is actually quite solid, it’s just a matter of whether you put your heart into it or not.”
“Under the same setting sun, I depicted warmth and tranquility filled with hope, while you portrayed an age and melancholy that was about to arrive. The emotional expression is quite striking, and to have such artistic skill and expression at such an age is truly enviable talent.”
In her tone, there was unexpectedly a hint of envy.
Qian Chong frowned and looked back at her, thinking, ‘She paints better than me, what is there for her to envy?’
“Are you mocking me?”
“I’m just being truthful; otherwise, who would want to praise you?” Hua Jie retorted quickly.
She truly felt envious; if only she could have been at this level when she was 15 in her previous life…
“…” Qian Chong snorted and turned back.
When it came to evaluating Hua Jie’s painting, Fang Shaojun used the phrase “amazing natural talent for color.”
Even while praising her, she did not look at Hua Jie.
Teacher Shen Jiaru made the final summary and assigned next week’s homework before dismissing the class.
Hua Jie stood leisurely, arching an eyebrow, “What about the bet you lost?”
“…” Qian Chong’s face turned red, his eyes darting to Fang Shaojun and Lu Yunfei, who were watching him, his complexion about to explode.
“Hurry up, are you a man or not? Stop dawdling, can’t you accept a loss?” Hua Jie glared at him.
Lu Yunfei looked at Hua Jie’s face, realizing that although the girl seemed easygoing and easy to bully on usual days, she showed no mercy to Qian Chong now.
She was like a heroine with a clear sense of love and hate.
“Hua Jie paints better than me! Hua Jie’s painting is really beautiful,” Qian Chong admitted, albeit reluctantly.
“Too quiet, I can’t hear you,” Hua Jie glared at him, determined to teach him a lesson, or else the kid wouldn’t know how brutal adult society can be.
“Hua Jie paints better than me!” He gritted his teeth, tilting his head back and loudly declared, “Hua Jie’s painting is really beautiful.”
Shen Jiaru looked at Qian Chong’s face, then at Hua Jie, and suddenly recalled his own youthful days learning to paint.
Back then, he and his fellow apprentices also openly resisted each other while secretly competing fiercely, pushing forward beneath the surface currents, none willing to admit defeat.
Qian Chong was perhaps too arrogant, coming from a good background and never having faced hardships or setbacks.
It wasn’t a bad thing to learn there were greater skies beyond his own, to temper his character a bit.
Encountering Hua Jie was like meeting his nemesis.
“Good, that’s more like it, keep it up,” she continued.
“…Hua Jie paints better than me! Hua Jie’s painting is really beautiful!” Shouting loudly and quickly, Qian Chong’s face began to turn pale, his eyes red, as he lowered his head and silently began packing up his painting supplies before slinking away.
Hua Jie picked up his brand-new mink vest, immediately putting it on, and then smiled, “Wow, it’s so warm, so light, and brand new too, really comfortable.”
“…” Qian Chong’s departure faltered.
“Brother Lei, do you think I look good in this?” Hua Jie turned to ask Zhao Xiaolei, who had just come over to help Teacher Shen clean up.
“It looks good, quite beautiful, and not cheap, right?” Zhao Xiaolei asked.
“Of course, it’s over five thousand. Qian Chong gave it to me as a reward for my good painting,” Hua Jie pointed towards Qian Chong.
“You guys get along pretty well,” Zhao Xiaolei remarked in amazement, knowing that these kids usually had their noses in the air and barely spoke to him, yet they seemed so nice to Hua Jie.
She must be really likable.
“Of course, the camaraderie among fellow disciples runs deep,” Hua Jie nodded earnestly, wearing the mink vest under her down jacket, putting her painting materials in a luxurious shopping bag made for carrying mink, and walked out with Zhao Xiaolei and Teacher Shen.
She hitched a ride to attend a dinner hosted by Yao Nan’s mother.
“…” Qian Chong was silent throughout, only saying goodbye to Teacher Shen as he left.
Hua Jie was chattering nonstop, infuriating him to the point of smoking.
The frustration he felt that afternoon was more than he had experienced all year.
Damn it!
“Bye, Hua Jie’s good friend,” Fang Shaojun suddenly said goodbye to Qian Chong before she left.
“Don’t talk to me,” Qian Chong snapped.
Fang Shaojun didn’t look back as she left the studio, as if she hadn’t heard him.
As Lu Yunfei walked out, he also looked back at Qian Chong.
“If you dare speak, I’ll beat you up,” Qian Chong threatened.
“…” Lu Yunfei, as expected, didn’t say a word and turned to leave silently.
But Qian Chong felt as if his eyes conveyed a thousand words.
After standing silently in the studio for a while, he finally strode out forcefully.
The following week, Qian Chong practiced furiously on handling highlights, continually trying to capture details, and repeatedly copying the treatment of bones and muscles.
On Saturday, when it was time to submit homework, he submitted several more pieces than anyone else.
Although Teacher Shen Jiaru didn’t say much, he was somewhat pleased.
The once arrogant and heedless youth had finally learned to work hard, settling down and becoming serious.
Hua Jie didn’t wear the mink vest from Monday to Friday, but specifically wore it on Saturdays just for Qian Chong to see.
Every time they had art class, she wore it, and every time Qian Chong saw it, he was incredibly irritated.
Finally, after more than half a month, Hua Jie stopped wearing it.
Qian Chong scoffed and asked:
“Finally stopped wearing it? I thought it had grown on you.”
“I found it tacky. How can someone who paints lack such aesthetic sense?”
“I gave it to my dad,” Hua Jie said with a smile.
“…” Qian Chong gritted his teeth.
“Consider it a grandchild’s tribute to him,” Hua Jie added.
“You—” Qian Chong abruptly rose from behind his easel.
“Pfft!” Fang Shaojun couldn’t hold back her laughter, quickly coughing to mask her amusement.
“…” Qian Chong felt murderous.
A kind of murderous that would silence everyone in the studio except for Teacher Shen.
…
…
As studies and painting got back on track, with days filled with hard work, time always seemed to fly by.
A month blinked past, and Hua Jie even had to try hard to recall what she had done over these last thirty days; how had it suddenly become December?
After class on Saturday morning, as Hua Jie was leaving the studio with her easel, Shen Mo mysteriously ran down from upstairs.
“Wait, let’s go together.” He put on his down jacket and joined her outside, then fetched a small cardboard box from under the window and placed it in the back seat of his bike, leading her as they cycled home.
“Coming to my house?” Hua Jie was puzzled.
“Yes.”
“I haven’t invited you yet, how come you’re just coming with me?” That’s rather forward of you.
“I’m going to see your dad, what’s it to you?” Shen Mo said bluntly.
“…” Hua Jie.
It seemed she still wasn’t the person in her family who got along best with Shen Mo.
So, love can fade, huh?