Under the shade of the tree, there was only the soft rustle of pencil against paper.
Yan Yu didn’t speak, continuing to paint, each stroke carefully measured.
On the drawing paper, a by-the-book lakeside scene gradually took shape—no major errors, but nothing exceptional either.
Yan Yu’s pencil tip didn’t stop until that shadow quietly lingered beside her for a few seconds. Only then did she seem to notice, tilting her head slightly.
Bai Yan’er had come over at some point, still holding her own sketchbook and pen.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she bent down and carefully adjusted the slightly crooked easel stand that had been tilted by Yan Yu’s wheelchair angle, making it more stable.
Then, she walked to Yan Yu’s side and slightly shifted her position, deliberately using her body to block a slanted sunbeam that had leaked through the gaps in the leaves.
After doing all this, she sat down on a flat stone next to Yan Yu’s wheelchair—not too close, not too far, just enough not to disturb, yet still able to see the drawing paper clearly.
She hugged her knees, resting her chin lightly on them, her gaze fixed on Yan Yu’s painting, watching quietly.
Yan Yu paused, then continued smudging a patch of gray-tinted distant mountains.
“…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 hovered faintly over the bottom of the paper, pointing to a blank edge that represented the lake’s surface, where only a few faint, broken horizontal lines existed.
“Here, it really looks like there’s a bit of sparkling light on the water, but it doesn’t feel noisy.”
“And the shadow of this tree—it’s blurry and fluffy, like a breeze just passed by.”
She tilted her head, her long hair slipping to one side, revealing her pale neck. Her tone was pure admiration, even carrying a childlike delight.
It wasn’t some profound art critique, even a little clumsy. But the sincerity was undeniable.
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 specks of light filtering through the leaves.
Being stared at like this seemed to embarrass her a little. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she instinctively tried to brush her hair back, but her fingertip lightly grazed the back of Yan Yu’s hand 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 turning crimson in an instant, the blush spreading to the tips of her ears.
She lowered her head in panic, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes, her voice barely a whisper: “I’m sorry, Sister… I didn’t mean to…”
Yan Yu looked at those red-tipped ears for two seconds, then withdrew her gaze and returned to her drawing paper, her voice flat: “It’s fine.”
A pause. Then Bai Yan’er added, “I know Sister draws better than that Jiang Muyun. Could you teach me next time…”
“Yeah.”
The blush on Bai Yan’er’s face deepened, but the light in her eyes instantly brightened by several degrees. The corners of her mouth couldn’t help but curl up. She wanted to say something but was afraid of disturbing her, so she just nodded vigorously, hugged her knees again, and buried her burning cheeks into them.
Their corner became a quiet little world of its own.
In the distance, Jiang Muyun saw all of this.
She sat on her own small folding stool. The lines on her drawing paper had long since become chaotic.
Her fingernails dug into her palms, bringing a sharp sting.
Bai Yan’er… the proud school belle who was dismissive to everyone, had actually taken the initiative to get close to that sickly one, Yan Yu?
She adjusted her easel for her? Blocked the sun for her?
With that… that look in her eyes? And even… touched her hand?
Why?
What did Yan Yu have? A face somewhat similar to her own, but pale and sickly? A cold wheelchair?
How did she deserve Bai Yan’er’s treatment like this?
“Muyun, look at Bai Yan’er, actually going to that Yan Yu…” a nearby female student leaned in, muttering softly, her tone full of disdain and confusion.
“Exactly, Yan Yu’s like that now. What’s Bai Yan’er after? Could it be she just finds her pitiful?”
Jiang Muyun snapped back to reality, the muscles in her face stiff from forcing a smile.
She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at the girl speaking. She just lowered her eyes, staring hard at the lines on her paper that had been ruined by her distraction.
The dark fire in her heart burned hotter, mixing with the humiliation of being publicly slighted by Bai Yan’er and the intense jealousy of watching Bai Yan’er show rare closeness to Yan Yu, all tangled together like poison ivy, constricting her chest until it ached.
She suddenly lost all desire to keep drawing or maintain a surface calm.
Taking a deep breath, Jiang Muyun put down her charcoal stick and picked up her phone.
Her fingertip tapped quickly across the screen, the edges of her nails turning white from the pressure.
She opened Su Qinghan’s chat window, carefully choosing her words.
She couldn’t be too direct, couldn’t seem petty, but she had to let Qinghan know… know that Yan Yu wasn’t as docile as she appeared, know that someone was “bothering” her, know… how aggrieved she felt.
[Qinghan, are you busy?]
[Just had outdoor sketching class and saw Yan Yu. She was sitting alone in a corner, painting, looking really lonely… Bai Yan’er went over to talk to her.]
[Bai Yan’er has been cold to me lately. I wonder if Yan Yu said something to her. If Yan Yu is upset about what happened between us… I’m a bit worried, but I don’t dare ask, afraid of causing a misunderstanding.]
[Qinghan, what should I do?]
Click. Send.
Watching the message status change to “Delivered,” Jiang Muyun felt a bit of the tightness in her chest ease.
She imagined Su Qinghan frowning slightly upon reading it, possibly feeling displeased with Yan Yu. Her mood finally settled a little.
She put her phone away, picked up the charcoal stick again, and tried to focus back on her paper, but her peripheral vision kept drifting to that patch of tree shade.
Under the tree, Yan Yu seemed completely unaware of the complex gazes aimed at her from afar.
Just as she made her final stroke, finishing this “mediocre” piece, that emotionless voice rang out again in her mind—
[Ding!]
[Plot “Classroom Sketching” role-playing complete.]
[Restoration degree evaluation: 92 points (Accurately maintained the ‘sickly, downcast, aloof’ supporting character state, and naturally facilitated relevant character interactions).]
[Current plot progress: 6%]
[Reward issued: Skill Enhancement. Your painting skill has been upgraded from A-Level to S-Level.]
A strange warm current, along with a flood of unfamiliar yet familiar perceptions and techniques, like a gentle stream, silently flowed into Yan Yu’s mind and merged into her fingertips.
The hand holding the charcoal stick trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.
She looked at the sketch she had just completed, which she had considered entirely ordinary.
In an instant, countless details she had missed before—brushstrokes that could be improved, atmospheres that could be elevated—rushed in like a tide.
The composition could be more refined, the light and shadow more layered. The feeling of that scenery, with an S-Level mastery, could be expressed far more profoundly and movingly, shaking the heart in silence.
Yan Yu slowly lowered her eyelashes, hiding the faint glimmer in her eyes.
S-Level, huh…
She lightly rubbed the charcoal powder lingering on her fingertips, feeling the new sense of control, and smiled inwardly.
The brush in her hand now carried a different weight.