Chapter 6: Yielding It To You

Yan Yu was lowering her head to organize her painting tools when she paused at the words.

At the same time, a male student nearby responded, “Yes, the one with the best grades is student Yan Yu.”

“Is that so…” Jiang Muyun drew out her tone, her smile growing sweeter, though her eyes held little warmth. “Participating in this competition has always been my dream. It’s just… if I go, would student Yan Yu be unhappy?”

She blinked, looking at the boy who had just spoken, her tone carrying a hint of joking difficulty. “After all, it seems like I’m ‘stealing’ her opportunity?”

The boy scratched his head, a bit embarrassed and a bit eager to perform in front of the beauty, blurting 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.

Yan Yu’s fondness for Su Qinghan, her daily persistence in clinging to Su Qinghan, was already no secret.

Jiang Muyun covered her mouth with a light laugh, her eyes sparkling. “I’m joking. Professor Chen’s selection must be fair. Besides, I might not necessarily ‘steal’ it from student Yan Yu.”

Her tone was light, carrying a joking air, 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, picking up a 2B pencil and slowly twirling it between her fingers.

The graphite core was cold.

[System Notification: Plot point ‘Jiang Muyun’s Public Provocation and Testing’ detected. Please make a response that conforms to ‘Yan Yu’s’ current state of mind (heartbreak from rejection, sickly and weak, mobility impaired, indifferent to other matters).]

She put down the pencil, raised a hand, covered her mouth, and let out a few suppressed coughs.

Her shoulders trembled slightly, her whole person appearing even more frail and fragile. Her body, trapped in the wheelchair, added another layer of helplessness.

Then, with vacant eyes, she looked towards the cherry blossom tree outside the window, offering no response to Jiang Muyun’s words or the surrounding murmurs.

As if truly immersed in her own world of sorrow and illness.

Professor Chen knocked on the table. “Quiet. Begin.”

The only sound left in the studio was the soft scratching of pencil on paper.

Yan Yu spread out her drawing paper and steadied her mind.

The original host’s painting foundation was actually very solid. The instincts and memories regarding lines, light and shadow, and structure still remained in these hands.

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, her gaze settled on the still life.

But the next second, she felt a gaze.

Coming from diagonally ahead, Jiang Muyun’s position.

Jiang Muyun seemed focused on observation, but her occasionally sweeping gaze would always, intentionally or not, brush over Yan Yu’s drawing board and her slightly trembling fingers gripping the pencil.

Yan Yu’s hand holding the pencil tightened, then slowly relaxed.

She began to draw.

The initial sketch was still accurate, but the lines had lost the lively spirit the original host was accustomed to, appearing slightly stiff.

The handling of light and shadow was by the book—dark where it should be dark, light where it should be light. No major faults could be found, but there were also no highlights to speak of.

She deliberately weakened her own keen sense of structural transitions, rendering the heaviness of the clay pot somewhat flat and treating the texture of the drapery a bit too simply.

She painted in a very “mediocre” way.

Just like any ordinary student who was somewhat diligent but had limited talent. Or perhaps like someone whose spirit had been exhausted by illness and disability.

Three hours flowed by in silence.

Professor Chen began to make her rounds, 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 shallow smile she couldn’t suppress at the corner of her mouth.

When it was Yan Yu’s turn, Professor Chen looked at her painting, her brow 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, simply writing a score decisively on the grading sheet.

Yan Yu, with lowered eyes, saw that “B”.

Not high, not low, slightly above average, just matching the level she had just “performed”.

And on Jiang Muyun’s sheet, there was a conspicuous “A+”.

“Muyun’s piece here has solid structure, and the handling of light and shadow shows thoughtful ideas. Especially the variation between the substantial and the insubstantial in the drapery folds—it really shows 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, looking 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 tolerance towards a “defeated opponent.” “Student Yan Yu’s painting is also very steady. Let’s do our best together next time.”

Yan Yu didn’t pause her movements. She carefully rolled up her drawing paper and secured it with a rubber band.

Only then did she raise 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 the wheelchair, quietly leaving the studio.

Her back was slender. The wheelchair’s movement was straight and slow, yet it carried a coldness that shut everyone out.

Jiang Muyun looked in the direction she had left. The smile on her face faded slightly but quickly brightened again as she turned to chat and laugh with the students beside her.

[Ding!]

[Plot ‘Classroom Confrontation’ performance completed.]

[Restoration Degree Evaluation: 87 points (Due to physical limitations, some performances enhanced the character’s sense of helplessness, conforming to the setting.)]

[Current Overall Performance Progress: 3%]

[Reward Distribution: None.]

The cold system notification sounded in her mind.

Yan Yu lowered the hand that had been pressed against her chest.