Under the shade of the trees, only the soft scratching of pencil on paper could be heard.
Yan Yu didn’t speak, just continued painting, considering the pressure of each stroke.
A perfectly ordinary, by-the-book lakeside scene gradually took shape on the paper—nothing majorly wrong, but certainly nothing remarkable either.
Yan Yu’s pencil tip didn’t stop.
It wasn’t until that shadow lingered quietly beside her for a few seconds that she, as if just noticing, slightly turned her head.
Bai Yan’er had walked over at some point, holding her own sketchbook and pencil.
She didn’t speak.
Instead, she bent down and carefully adjusted the slightly crooked easel stand for Yan Yu, which had been tilted due to the wheelchair’s angle, making it more stable.
Then, she walked to a spot slightly in front and to the side of Yan Yu, subtly shifting her position to precisely block a slanted beam of sunlight leaking through the gaps in the leaves.
After doing this, she sat down on a flat stone beside Yan Yu’s wheelchair—not too close, not too far, just the right distance to not disturb, yet still see the drawing clearly.
She hugged her knees, resting her chin lightly on them, her gaze falling on Yan Yu’s painting as she watched quietly.
Yan Yu paused briefly, then continued shading a distant mountain in gray tones.
“…Sister,” Bai Yan’er suddenly spoke, her voice very soft, “can I stay with you for a while?”
Yan Yu nodded.
Bai Yan’er smiled.
“I like your painting, Sister.”
Her fingertip pointed vaguely toward the blank space at the bottom of the paper representing the lake’s surface, where only a few extremely faint, broken horizontal lines existed.
“Here, it really looks like there are little glimmers of light on the water, but it’s not noisy.”
“And the shadow of this tree, it’s faint, fuzzy, like the wind just blew past it.”
She tilted her head, her long hair slipping to one side, revealing her fair neck.
Her tone held pure appreciation, even a childlike eagerness.
It wasn’t some profound artistic critique; it was even a bit clumsy.
But that sincerity couldn’t be faked.
Yan Yu finally stopped her pencil and turned to look at Bai Yan’er.
Bai Yan’er was also looking up at her, her eyes bright, reflecting the scattered points of light filtering through the leaves.
Being looked at like that by Yan Yu, she seemed a little embarrassed.
A faint blush rose on her cheeks.
Subconsciously, she started to lift her hand to smooth her hair, but her fingertip lightly brushed against the back of Yan Yu’s hand, which was resting on the edge of the drawing board.
A cool fingertip touched equally cool skin.
Bai Yan’er jerked her hand back as if burned, her entire face flushing a deep red instantly, the color spreading to the roots of her ears.
She flusteredly lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum.
“S-sorry, Sister… I didn’t mean to…”
Yan Yu looked at those reddened ear tips, was silent for two seconds, then withdrew her gaze back to her drawing paper, her voice flat.
“It’s fine.”
After a pause, Bai Yan’er added, “I know you paint better than that Jiang Muyun. Sister, can you teach me how to paint next time…”
“Mhm.”
The blush on Bai Yan’er’s face deepened, but the light in her eyes instantly brightened several degrees.
The corners of her mouth uncontrollably lifted.
She wanted to say something, but was afraid of disturbing her.
In the end, she just nodded vigorously, hugged her knees again, and buried her burning cheek a little into them.
Over here, they were quiet, forming their own little world.
In the distance, Jiang Muyun took all of this in.
She sat on her small folding stool.
The lines on her drawing paper had become messy at some point.
Her fingertips dug into her palms, sending a slight stinging pain.
Bai Yan’er… that aloof school belle who was never overly friendly with anyone, actually took the initiative to go over to that sickly Yan Yu?
And adjusted her easel for her? Blocked the sun for her?
Looked at her with that… that kind of gaze? Even… touched her hand?
Why?
What does Yan Yu have? A face somewhat similar to her own, yet pale and sickly? A cold wheelchair?
Why does she get that kind of treatment from Bai Yan’er?
“Muyun, look, Bai Yan’er is actually paying attention to that Yan Yu…”
A girl beside her leaned over, whispering, her tone carrying disdain and confusion.
“Exactly. Yan Yu is like that now. What does Bai Yan’er want? Is it because she pities her?”
Jiang Muyun snapped back to reality, the muscles in her face somewhat stiff from maintaining a smile.
She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at the girl who spoke.
She just lowered her eyes, staring fixedly at the few lines on her drawing paper that she had messed up due to her distracted state.
The malicious fire in her heart burned hotter and hotter, mixed with the humiliation of being publicly snubbed by Bai Yan’er, and the intense jealousy born from watching Bai Yan’er show rare closeness to Yan Yu right now.
It coiled around her like poisonous vines, tightening her chest.
Suddenly, she lost all desire to continue painting or maintain a surface calm.
Taking a deep breath, Jiang Muyun put down her charcoal pencil and picked up the phone beside her.
Her fingertips tapped rapidly on the screen, the edges of her nails turning slightly white from the force.
She opened the chat window with Su Qinghan, carefully choosing her words.
Can’t be too blunt.
Can’t make herself seem petty.
But she must let Qinghan know… know that Yan Yu isn’t as well-behaved as she appears, know that someone is “bothering” her, know… her own current grievance.
‘Qinghan, are you busy?’
‘I saw classmate Yan Yu during the outdoor sketching class just now. She was sitting alone in a corner painting, looking very lonely… Classmate Bai Yan’er seemed to go over and talk with her.’
‘Bai Yan’er is very cold to me now. I don’t know if it’s because classmate Yan Yu said something to her. If classmate Yan Yu is bothered by our matter… I’m a little worried, but I don’t dare go over and ask, afraid she’ll misunderstand.’
‘Qinghan, what should I do?’
Tap.
Send.
Watching the message change to “Delivered,” the stifled feeling in Jiang Muyun’s chest seemed to ease a little.
She imagined Su Qinghan possibly frowning upon seeing the message, possibly developing some dissatisfaction with Yan Yu.
Her mood finally calmed down slightly.
She put away her phone, picked up the charcoal pencil again, trying to pull her attention back to the drawing paper.
But the corner of her eye couldn’t help but keep glancing toward that patch of shade.
Under the tree, Yan Yu seemed completely unaware of the complex gaze cast from afar.
Just as she put down the final stroke, completing this “mediocre” work, that inorganic voice sounded in her mind once again—
[Ding!]
[Role-playing mission “Classroom Sketch” completed.]
[Restoration Degree Evaluation: 92 points (Precisely maintained the supporting character state of ‘sickly, disheartened, preoccupied,’ and naturally facilitated related character interactions.)]
[Current Role-playing Total Progress: 6%]
[Reward Distributed: Painting Skill Advancement. Your painting skill has been upgraded from A-Grade to S-Grade.]
A strange warm current, accompanied by a flood of unfamiliar yet familiar perceptions and techniques, flowed silently into Yan Yu’s mind like a gentle stream, merging into her fingertips.
The hand holding the charcoal pencil trembled almost imperceptibly.
She looked again at the sketch she had just completed, which in her own eyes was utterly unremarkable.
In that instant, countless details she hadn’t noticed before, brushstrokes that could be improved, artistic conceptions that could be elevated… surged forth like a tide.
The composition could be more exquisite.
The layers of light and shadow could be richer.
The feeling of that scenery could, with S-Grade control, be expressed more profoundly and movingly, stirring hearts in the silent places.
Yan Yu slowly lowered her eyelashes, concealing a fleeting, deep light in her eyes.
S-Grade, huh…
She gently rubbed the residual charcoal dust on her fingertips, feeling that brand-new sense of control, and laughed softly in her heart.
The paintbrush in her hand seemed to have a different weight now.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.