Yan Yu was lowering her head to tidy her painting supplies when, upon hearing the words, her movements paused.
At the same time, a male student next to her responded, “That’s right, the one with the best grades is student Yan Yu.”
“Is that so…” Jiang Muyun drew out her tone, her smile growing even sweeter, though her eyes held little warmth.
“Participating in this competition has always been my dream. It’s just… if I go, will student Yan Yu be unhappy?”
She blinked, looking at the male student who had just spoken, her tone carrying a hint of playful difficulty.
“After all, it seems like I’m ‘snatching’ her opportunity?”
The male student scratched his head, feeling somewhat awkward yet eager to impress the beauty before him, and blurted out, “That shouldn’t be the case. Yan Yu, she… she probably doesn’t care about this.”
His voice trailed off as he glanced at Yan Yu, muttering, “Her head is probably full of…”
A few suppressed snickers sounded around them.
It was no secret that Yan Yu liked Su Qinghan, clinging to her shamelessly every day.
Jiang Muyun covered her mouth with a light laugh, her eyes sparkling.
“I’m just joking. Professor Chen’s selection must be fair. Besides, I might not necessarily ‘snatch’ it from student Yan Yu.”
Her tone was light and playful, as if she were truly just jesting.
But when her gaze swept over Yan Yu’s legs, which couldn’t move freely, the smile in her eyes deepened a fraction.
Yan Yu lowered her head again, picked up a 2B pencil, and slowly twirled it between her fingers.
The graphite felt cold.
[System Prompt: Detected plot point ‘Public Provocation and Testing by Jiang Muyun’Please, Host, react in a manner consistent with ‘Yan Yu’s’ current state of mind (heartbroken from rejection, sickly and weak, mobility-impaired, indifferent to everything else).]
She put down the pencil, raised a hand to cover her mouth, and coughed a few times, suppressing the sound.
Her shoulders trembled slightly, making her entire frame appear even more frail and fragile.
Her body, confined to the wheelchair, seemed to gain an extra layer of helplessness.
Then, with empty eyes, she looked out the window at the cherry blossom tree, offering no response to Jiang Muyun’s words or the surrounding whispers.
As if she were truly immersed in her own world of sorrow and illness.
Professor Chen rapped on the table.
“Quiet. Let’s begin.”
The art studio fell silent, save for the soft scratch-scratch of pencils on paper.
Yan Yu smoothed out her drawing paper and steadied her mind.
The original host’s painting skills were actually very good.
The instincts and memories regarding lines, light and shadow, and structure still remained in these hands.
She closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them again, her gaze settled on the still life.
But the next second, she felt a gaze on her.
Coming from diagonally ahead—Jiang Muyun’s position.
Jiang Muyun seemed to be concentrating on observation, but her occasionally sweeping glances would always, intentionally or not, brush over Yan Yu’s drawing board and her slightly trembling fingers gripping the pencil tightly.
Yan Yu’s hand holding the pencil tightened, then slowly relaxed.
She began to draw.
The initial sketch was still accurate, but the lines lacked the lively spirit the original host was accustomed to, appearing slightly stiff.
The light and shadow were handled conventionally—dark where it should be dark, light where it should be light.
No major faults could be found, but there was nothing outstanding either.
She deliberately toned down her keen sense of structural transitions, rendering the pottery jar’s solidity somewhat flat and handling the texture of the drapery a bit too simply.
She painted very “mediocrely.”
Like any ordinary student who was somewhat diligent but had limited talent.
Or perhaps like someone whose inspiration had been drained by illness and disability.
Three hours flowed by in the silence.
Professor Chen began her rounds, inspecting and grading.
She lingered before Jiang Muyun’s drawing board for a long time, nodded, and said a few words in a low voice.
Jiang Muyun listened humbly, a faint smile she couldn’t quite suppress at the corner of her mouth.
When it was Yan Yu’s turn, Professor Chen looked at her painting, her brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.
Her gaze lingered on Yan Yu’s pale face and the wheelchair’s armrests for a moment.
In the end, she said nothing, just swiftly wrote a grade on the scoring sheet.
Yan Yu kept her eyes downcast and saw that “B.”
Not high, not low, slightly above average—just right for the level she had just “performed.”
And on Jiang Muyun’s sheet was a conspicuous “A+.”
“Muyun’s piece here has solid structure, and the handling of light and shadow shows thoughtful ideas. Especially the variation in the solidity and emptiness of the drapery folds—it really demonstrates skill,” Professor Chen praised publicly, a rare occurrence.
Students around cast looks of envy or admiration.
Jiang Muyun stood up, smiling somewhat shyly.
“Thank you, Professor. I still need more practice.”
She turned her head to look at Yan Yu, who was silently packing her painting tools.
Her tone was light and carried a trace of imperceptible superiority, along with a certain kind of magnanimity one might show a “defeated opponent.”
“Student Yan Yu’s painting was also very steady. Let’s do our best together next time.”
Yan Yu didn’t pause her movements, carefully rolling up her drawing paper and securing it with a rubber band.
Only then did she lift her head to look at Jiang Muyun.
Her face showed no expression, her eyes calm and unrippled.
Then, she finished packing her tools, placed them on her lap, and with both hands, turned her wheelchair, quietly leaving the art studio.
Her back was slender.
The wheelchair’s path was straight and slow, yet it carried an aloofness that shut everyone out.
Jiang Muyun watched the direction she left.
The smile on her face faded slightly but quickly brightened again as she turned to chat and laugh with the classmates beside her.
[Ding!]
[Plot ‘Classroom Confrontation’ role-play completed.]
[Restoration Degree Evaluation: 87 points (Due to physical limitations, some performances enhanced the character’s sense of helplessness, aligning with the setting.)]
[Current Overall Role-play Progress: 3%]
[Reward Distribution: None.]
The icy system prompt sounded in her mind.
Yan Yu lowered the hand that had been pressed against her chest.