The sunlight, weary and languid like a cluster of pineapple chrysanthemums, filled the windowsill.
Students seated by the window slouched over their desks in disarray, each draped in the evening glow like a row of delicate, coquettish fairies.
The bell had just rung for class when the art teacher handed out sketch papers to each student, outlining the task for the lesson: to draw a portrait. They could choose a familiar subject—parents, classmates, or even a self-portrait.
This was mainly to gauge the class’s foundation in art and to identify students who had a talent or background in art, who could then be nurtured over the next three years.
As the students prepared their mechanical pencils and erasers, the art teacher spoke from the podium about the structure of the college art entrance exam in their final year, the subjects one could study in university, the types of careers available after graduation, and the potential earnings.
Hua Jie had heard this all before in her past life and remembered it vividly.
Back then, she was full of hope for the future and could never have imagined that this ‘bright future’ would mean living a dull and bald existence, sobbing.
Those days and nights of back pain, wrist numbness, and countless moments of wanting to throw her pen down in anger…
It was supposed to be about drawing when you wanted to, and not drawing meant looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle like an artist, darn it!
While she lazily sighed and hummed to herself, she sketched on the paper the teacher had distributed.
“Studying art leads to good job prospects, especially for those who aren’t strong in academic subjects. You can simply apply to an art school.
“Nowadays, there are many art programs in universities—landscape design, interior design, fashion design… Everything we use needs to be designed.”
“From towering skyscrapers to the combs used by female students, from the collectible Water Margin cards found in crispy noodle packs for boys, to the animations we watch and the characters and scenes in the games we play, everything involves drawing.”
“When it comes to art graduates, there are jobs as small as mine, being an art teacher with stable employment and breaks during the summer and winter.”
“Or as large as the artist Shen Jiaru from our Jinsong city, whose paintings now sell for millions internationally.”
Art teacher Wang Ting leaned over the lectern, enthusiastically promoting the field, while smiling and observing the students.
In the year 2000, when the average salary ranged between one to two thousand, the students were thrilled to hear that a painting could sell for millions—
That was a fortune they could never spend in a lifetime.
Yet Hua Jie thought bitterly: What grudge do you have, urging us to study painting?
The young don’t work hard, and the old end up learning to paint, huh, teacher.
“Alright, continue with your work. Feel free to ask me any questions,” said Teacher Wang, placing the chalk on the chalk tray and starting to walk around the classroom, occasionally stopping to chat with a student who was doing well.
Most students were just doodling, with few having a solid foundation in art.
Jing Nian had just had a quarrel with Hua Jie and was furiously holding back, taking quite a while to calm down.
He stretched out his hand to spread the sketch paper, holding a pencil and pondering what to draw.
The girl sitting in front of them, Bian Ying, turned around. She initially glanced at Hua Jie and was about to speak but changed her mind after a quick thought.
Bian Ying was attractive and had been dancing since elementary school. In middle school, she was the art committee member and was even voted the school beauty, truly a favored daughter of heaven.
She had been in the same class as Hua Jie since middle school, and because the boy she liked, Yu Tonglin, was Hua Jie’s deskmate, she became friends with Hua Jie to get closer to Yu, despite not liking Hua Jie much.
Unexpectedly, the three of them ended up in the same class again in high school, although Yu Tonglin was no longer Hua Jie’s deskmate.
Bian Ying knew that Hua Jie also liked Yu Tonglin just like her.
Her gaze shifted from Hua Jie, who was absorbed in her drawing, to Jing Nian, who had just had a big fight with Hua Jie before class, and she asked with a smile:
“Jing Nian, I heard you’ve studied painting before?”
Jing Nian looked up to see Bian Ying, the prettiest girl in the class, and immediately perked up, somewhat proudly saying, “I studied it for a year before.”
“Why don’t you draw me then? After the teacher checks it, you can even give it to me,” Bian Ying suggested, looking towards Hua Jie, then added:
“In middle school, Hua Jie also drew me once, but it didn’t look like me at all, haha.”
Her tone was playful, making it seem like she had a great relationship with Hua Jie, as if she was just teasing, but it subtly ignited Jing Nian’s competitive spirit.
Jing Nian glanced at Hua Jie and said, “Then I’ll draw a portrait for you, and we’ll see whose is more accurate.”
His tone could not hide his arrogance; though he had not been learning to paint for long, his art teacher had always praised his talent.
“Sure,” Bian Ying said, turning her chair to face Jing Nian and sitting properly.
The art class was generally relaxed; as long as the students were not disruptive, the teacher did not intervene much.
The boys sitting around them saw this and could not help but crane their necks. Hearing that Jing Nian was drawing a portrait for Bian Ying made them a bit envious.
They had noticed during the registration and the opening ceremony a few days ago that there was a great beauty named Bian Ying in their class, a dancer with an excellent figure and demeanor, eagerly watched by many, yet with no chance to start a conversation.
Jing Nian, however, through his ability to paint, had caught the beauty’s attention and could so openly appreciate her beauty—it was just too cool.
Just like Jack, who was envied for his nude drawings of “Silk,” Hua Jie cast a quick glance at Jing Nian and Bian Ying, meeting Bian’s smiling gaze. She slightly tugged at her lips in a faint smile and then indifferently withdrew her gaze, continuing with her own work.
In her past life, she had a secret crush on Yu Tonglin during middle school.
Because Yu said that Bian Ying was interesting, Hua Jie befriended Bian, only to become the perfect foil beside the blooming flower—a memory that was hardly pleasant to recall.
Bian Ying’s manipulation was clear as day, yet her younger self was cluelessly light-hearted—
Bian complimented her on wearing a red dress, which Hua Jie took to heart, joyfully wearing it three or four times a week.
Behind her back, Bian quietly told Yu Tonglin, “Hua Jie’s red dress looks so tacky, and it’s too short. I told her not to wear it, but she wouldn’t listen, sigh…”
Bian praised her for her loyalty and used her to run errands, and Hua Jie, out of “loyalty,” never refused.
In the ninth grade, as they were preparing for the final sprint, Bian secretly told her that Yu Tonglin did not like her at all and advised her to stop her foolish infatuation, claiming it was out of friendship.
She remembered crying under her covers all night long, feeling that Yu Tonglin had known about her secret crush all along and even told other classmates he didn’t like her…
This incident led her to stop talking to Yu Tonglin for a long time, hurting her so much that her academic performance plummeted…
As a child, she was naive, thinking that Bian wasn’t doing it on purpose, just being straightforward… Now, she saw right through her.
She had no time for these trivial people—giving them even a glance would be admitting defeat!
Casting aside these distracting thoughts, Hua Jie didn’t bother to choose something specific to draw. Her pencil case was decorated with a sticker of Zhao Wei as Little Swallow, so she simply started to copy that.
Swipe, swipe, swipe…
Her hand unconsciously moved the mechanical pencil back and forth. Relying on the muscle memory and instinct honed over more than a decade, she shaped forms, determined proportions, and outlined details without thinking—just casually drawing.
Her mind was elsewhere.
Today was the high school entrance diagnostic test, and she expected to fail every subject.
She had mentioned to Jing Nian before class that she’d probably score in the teens—not as a joke to upset him.
Swipe, swipe, swipe…
The sketch of Little Swallow was ready, and she began working on the shading, layer by layer.
In the past, Hua Jie had always wished for a second chance to focus on her studies.
Picking up her studies again and aiming for a top university and a good major wasn’t going to be easy.
With her current foundation, only her English was decent, thanks to frequent email exchanges with foreign clients and the necessity of traveling.
For the other subjects, she figured she’d need to start from middle school level, and it was essential to buy a complete set of middle school tutorial books from Xinhua Bookstore this weekend.
Taking advantage of the lighter workload in her first year of high school, she needed to catch up quickly.
Swipe, swipe, swipe…
The image of Little Swallow gradually became more three-dimensional, and the initially dull figure slowly came to life.
As the art teacher walked past Jing Nian, he observed Jing Nian’s drawing and smiled, saying, “That’s quite good.”
“Heh,” Jing Nian glanced at the art teacher, flashed a smile, and became even more enthusiastic with his strokes.
Bian Ying sat upright like a flight attendant, poised and elegant, her fair face glowing in the sunlight—indeed, she was very pretty.
The art teacher occasionally glanced at Bian Ying’s face and then checked Jing Nian’s drawing, not yet noticing Hua Jie sitting beside Jing Nian, her head bowed, hair drooping, quietly musing and discreetly shading her drawing.