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“It’s over,” Lin Zhan buried her head in her arms and complained to Zheng Yi Mian. “He must think I’m a stalker now. What should I do?”
After hearing her recount the incident from noon, Zheng Yi Mian thought for a moment and asked sincerely, “Aren’t you one?”
Lin Zhan choked: “…”
Then she protested, “I was immersed in art, okay? Think about it—I even abandoned my paints and expensive brushes. That shows how much I love art.”
Zheng Yi Mian corrected her: “It’s more like your love for good looks.”
“Superficial, vulgar,” Lin Zhan emphasized by tapping the table. “It’s because I…”
She had said it three times already, and Zheng Yi Mian could recite it backward.
“It’s because the painting you’re working on requires a serene atmosphere, but you just couldn’t feel it. You could only sense it when you were around ‘Hope’s Light.’“
Not knowing the boy’s name, they simply called him “Hope’s Light.”
Sun Hong, sitting nearby, naturally heard the whole story.
Rubbing his chin, he whispered, “Lin Zhan, try to look on the bright side. Maybe you’ll never see him again. Doesn’t that make you feel better?”
Lin Zhan’s face instantly turned cold: “…”
Zheng Yi Mian chimed in, “Don’t listen to Sun Hong. He’s just trying to provoke you. I think you’ll meet him again. Maybe he’s from our school?”
“I know that!” Sun Hong volunteered eagerly. “There’s this cool and handsome guy in our school, named…”
Zheng Yi Mian sneered, “You’re not talking about yourself, are you?”
Sun Hong replied, “I can’t compare. There’s a guy in Class One named Shen Xi. He’s the unreachable flower on the cliff. Last time during the 1000-meter race, I came second, and so many girls rushed to give me water—it almost caused an accident…”
Lin Zhan gave him a cold stare: “…Tell the truth.”
Sun Hong forced a laugh: “Later, we found out they were actually giving water to Shen Xi, who was waiting for his friend’s next race. I fought through the crowd to take a peek at him—man, he’s really handsome. Even as a guy, I thought he was stunning.”
“I think with your looks, you’ve got a shot.”
Lin Zhan picked up her paintbrush and knife, sharpened the brush, and said, “We haven’t even started anything. Whether he studies here or not is still a question.”
She had heard of Shen Xi before—one of the legendary figures at their school.
Though they attended the same school, Lin Zhan never paid attention to these things. Most of her time was spent in the studio far from the regular classrooms. During group activities, she always stood at the back. As for Shen Xi, she only knew his name but had never seen him in person.
Of course, the most important reason was that she didn’t want to see him.
The long-rumored Shen Xi and Liang Yu—she hadn’t seen either of them.
Seeing her expression, Sun Hong looked as if he’d seen a ghost: “Holy crap, Lin Zhan, is that the face of someone lovesick? I’ve lived long enough to see this happen! I’ve only ever seen others being captivated by you, never you being the one stuck.”
At this point, he mimicked Lin Zhan’s voice, rejecting someone—”Sorry, I don’t have those kinds of feelings right now.”
His voice was loud enough to draw some malicious teasing from the classroom.
“Sun Hong, what kind of feelings?”
Sun Hong retorted, “Shut up, shut up. Old Huang is coming soon. Let’s see if you can still laugh then.”
///
Huang Chen and Chen Lixiu chatted and laughed about their students’ academic performance as they walked together. Both were homeroom teachers of the art classes at No. 1 High School, and this time, both their classes had performed well in the school-organized exam.
Chen Lixiu beamed as she looked at the score sheet in her hand: “Several students in my class scored above 250. There are also scores of 240 and 230, but there are a few who haven’t passed yet. The disparity is too great...”
The total score was 300, divided equally among the three subjects: color theory, sketching, and quick drawing.
Huang Chen sighed: “Same with us. A few students only scored 150 this time.”
Chen Lixiu rolled up the score sheet and tucked it between the pages of her book: “Your class has two aces, Zheng Yi Mian and Lin Zhan. How did they do this time?”
Mentioning these two, Huang Chen smiled so much that his crow’s feet showed: “Zheng Yi Mian ranked first with 270 points, and Lin Zhan scored 255.”
Chen Lixiu praised, “Zheng Yi Mian is impressive, consistently stable—the style favored by the joint exams. Lin Zhan, with her strong personal style, may not score exceptionally high, but she’s likely to win awards.”
With that, Chen Lixiu leaned in to ask Huang Chen: “Last time, the school had one spot for a competition, and it went to Lin Zhan. How did she perform?”
Huang Chen chuckled: “You all pretend not to care, but secretly, you’re so invested. Lin Zhan is a determined girl who puts a lot of pressure on herself. During that period, she worked tirelessly every day.”
Chen Lixiu remarked, “What do you expect? She’s Lin Zhengping’s daughter… So, how did it turn out? Did she win an award?”
Huang Chen replied, “Yes, she won first prize.”
When he entered the classroom, it was extremely quiet, filled only with the soft rustling sounds of drawing, which made Huang Chen very pleased.
He glanced at Lin Zhan and Zheng Yi Mian’s paintings and couldn’t help nodding approvingly from behind, his smile growing wider.
As he approached Sun Hong, he sighed deeply.
Sun Hong hurriedly pinned the painting Lin Zhan had done for him onto his drawing board, but Huang Chen saw through it immediately: “Stop pretending. This is another one of Lin Zhan’s works, isn’t it?”
Sun Hong laughed: “Teacher, you’ve got such sharp eyes.”
“You little rascal, no respect,” Huang Chen lightly tapped his head. “Look at the way you’ve drawn this hand…”
Sun Hong knowingly interjected, “It looks like I’ve got epilepsy, doesn’t it? I think so too.”
The class erupted in laughter.
Sun Hong’s sharp eyes quickly spotted the score sheet and certificate in Huang Chen’s hand.
Not wanting to know his results too soon, he sighed while looking at the certificate: “Who won an award again? Making our Teacher Huang so proud!”
Lin Zhan’s hand paused, her heart leaping into her throat.
Here it comes.
Huang Chen smiled: “Winning an award is a good thing. Everyone, congratulate Lin Zhan! The Golden Painting Award is highly competitive, with only three first prizes nationwide, and Lin Zhan has claimed one of them! Applaud for her!”
Whispers spread through the room, followed by everyone turning to give Lin Zhan a round of applause.
The lighting in the studio wasn’t too bright or too dim, perfectly outlining her delicate facial features.
Lin Zhan’s profile seemed almost painted—her cheekbones slightly raised, tapering inward gently as they descended.
Unlike the exaggerated chins of artificial beauty, Lin Zhan’s small face was smooth and refined, neither harsh nor sharp, exuding a vibrant youthful charm.
Her ear-length short hair, with thin and wispy bangs, was a hairstyle few dared to try during their school days.
Because this style tested one’s appearance severely.
Her brown pupils were always clear and bright, her double eyelids curving gracefully from the outer corners of her eyes, perfectly proportioned.
Beneath her expressive right eye lay a faint teardrop-shaped mole.
This added a touch of allure to her otherwise gentle beauty.
Some people were just so blessed—they excelled in painting and looked like celebrities fresh out of a photoshopped image.
Though she was strong, she had a balanced figure and a great physique.
Lin Zhan stepped forward to accept the certificate.
Huang Chen nodded: “Keep up the good work! More big awards await you!”
Before Lin Zhan could respond, Sun Hong shouted loudly: “Of course! Among countless masters, Sister Zhan reigns supreme!”
Everyone burst into laughter.
“Sun Hong, your cultural knowledge seems to be improving. Are you writing poetry now?”
“Incredible! Sun Hong will be our cultural studies champion from now on.”
“You’re only praising your own goddess, aren’t you, Sun Hong?”
After announcing everyone’s scores, Huang Chen began his usual lecture.
“Painting is something a teacher introduces you to, but the real practice depends on the individual. You need to practice more regularly. Look at Lin Zhan and Zheng Yi Mian—they never let go of their brushes. You can learn sketching and quick drawing from them, but don’t imitate Lin Zhan’s use of color.”
Huang Chen held up Zheng Yi Mian’s drawing board: “Take a look at Zheng Yi Mian’s work. This is the style favored by the joint exams—it needs to be bright, with a clear contrast between light and dark areas, and a sense of depth. Don’t make it gray! Look at how well Zheng Yi Mian painted these fruits. Her apples and pears are perfect in hue…”
Lin Zhan wasn’t offended because her and Zheng Yi Mian’s styles were different. She was suited for school-specific exams, while Zheng Yi Mian was suited for the joint exams.
Initially, Huang Chen had tried various methods to change her style, but it only backfired. Realizing she could still score high marks with her current approach, Huang Chen eventually stopped interfering.
Putting down Zheng Yi Mian’s drawing board, Huang Chen walked behind Lin Zhan and smiled: “Every time I look at Lin Zhan’s paintings, I feel a sense of post-apocalyptic desolation, but within that desolation, there’s a glimmer of life. It’s quite fascinating.”
Lin Zhan’s work leaned toward darker tones and often used gray, but due to her excellent overall coordination, the colors and shapes of each fruit blended seamlessly into the composition, making them strikingly beautiful without being jarring.
Every time Huang Chen finished examining her paintings, he couldn’t help but marvel at the power of talent.
He glanced again at Zheng Yi Mian’s neat and bright compositions, finding each uniquely appealing in its own way.
In painting, diversity makes everything more interesting.
///
Later, Lin Zhan returned to Yishui Street a few more times to wait.
Same spot, different spots—even the alleyway entrance she had waited at—but to no avail.
“Hope’s Light” hadn’t returned, and her painting remained unfinished.
After endless, fruitless waiting, she finally decided to stop waiting and put the painting away.
She felt certain they would meet again someday.
“The art museum’s submission deadline ended two weeks ago,” Zheng Yi Mian reminded her. “It’s been over ten days, and you still haven’t found ‘Hope’s Light’?”
Lin Zhan set down her art bag and nodded dejectedly: “He’s harder to wait for than a celebrity. At least celebrities have schedules.”
Zheng Yi Mian worried for her: “What will you do? Are you not participating in the submission?”
“I have backup pieces,” Lin Zhan said. “I already submitted another painting.”
Relieved, Zheng Yi Mian turned back to her homework: “That’s good.”
Sun Hong poked his head over: “If you’re so eager, why don’t I take you to Class One to see that unreachable flower?”
Lin Zhan, engrossed in her homework, replied: “No.”
Based on their initial encounter, Hope’s Light should have no class during the first period on Tuesday afternoon.
But Class One was the elite class where everyone attended every lesson.
Moreover, during their meeting, Hope’s Light hadn’t been wearing Chonggao’s uniform.
Therefore, it was safe to assume that the one named Shen Xi wasn’t Hope’s Light.
///
A few uneventful days passed until Friday afternoon, when Huang Chen announced he would take them to W City Art Museum for an exhibition.
After packing up, Lin Zhan and Zheng Yi Mian waited outside for everyone. Their classroom door happened to face a staircase. Suddenly, someone rushed up from below, nearly knocking Zheng Yi Mian over. Fortunately, Lin Zhan pulled her back in time.
Lin Zhan watched the direction he was running: “What’s going on… he’s running as if escaping.”
The running boy had a crew cut and a loud voice that carried clearly to their ears.
“Is there anyone else in the class who can go? Li Cheng has diarrhea and can’t attend. Is there anyone who can give the explanation?!”
The commotion piqued Lin Zhan’s curiosity.
She asked Sun Hong, “Don’t you claim to know everything about Chonggao? What’s going on? Why is this guy panicking?”
Sun Hong replied, “I didn’t hear clearly. Whose name did he mention earlier?”
Lin Zhan answered, “Li Cheng. I don’t know him.”
Sun Hong searched his memory and craned his neck to look in that direction, saying uncertainly, “There’s probably only one thing going on.”
“W City Art Museum is right next to us and often collaborates with us. This time, a higher-up leader is visiting. After inspecting our school, they plan to visit the museum. Our school sent a student to give an explanation as a gesture of goodwill. Who knows how it escalated—now there’s filming involved, and it might even appear on TV.”
“This Li Cheng speaks standard Mandarin and has good communication skills, so the school chose him. But maybe he got diarrhea and can’t go now, so the school sent someone to Class One to ask if anyone else can step in. Class One is the elite class, after all, representing the school’s standards.”
Lin Zhan, holding Zheng Yi Mian’s arm, said lightly, “The school sure dares to dream, thinking they can just pull anyone in to explain.”
Such a grand occasion—without rehearsals or memorized lines—required immense literary skill and cultural knowledge. Not to mention the suffocating pressure of all eyes on you.
At best, one might stutter; moderately, blush; at worst, stutter and babble nonsense while blushing.
Lin Zhan understood all too well how terrifying pressure could be.
She didn’t believe anyone could handle it.
“That’s none of our business,” Sun Hong said excitedly. “Hey, Shen Xi is in that class. Maybe we’ll get to see him soon.”
Lin Zhan played with her fingers indifferently: “He has nothing to do with me.”
Sun Hong exclaimed, “Shen Xi! Holy crap, Shen Xi is coming out!”
Lin Zhan raised her head absentmindedly but froze in place.
Her Hope’s Light, wearing Chonggao’s uniform, emerged from the doorway of Class One.
He stood tall at the entrance, unlike the others who slouched against the doorframe behind him.
Like a tree offering shade.
Behind them, the girls gasped in surprise.
“Is Shen Xi going? Is he that amazing?”
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