Ling Beina slid her fingers across the tablet a few times before handing it to me. “This is the first section of the manuscript that needs an illustration. Take a look and see if you can find the right feel for it.”
I took a deep breath and accepted the tablet, my gaze falling on the screen. After scanning only a few lines, my cheeks felt as if they had been set on fire.
The text described an encounter between two female characters in the corner of a hallway. One of them gently pushed the other against the wall, her arm propped beside the other’s ear, creating a confinement from which there was no escape. The focus of the description wasn’t on intense action, but rather a silent tension that permeated the air—”Her lazy gaze was like a hook, tracing the other’s reddened earlobes and trembling eyelashes. It seemed casual, yet it was filled with an unquestionable aggression, like a hunter admiring a small animal caught in its net…”
‘T-this… this atmosphere… it’s even more intense than the manga I drew!’
I felt like my ears were so hot that steam was about to rise from them, and the tip of my tail swept across the carpet in an uneasy fret. This description felt far too much like deja vu, especially that “lazy yet aggressive” gaze. It was as if she were hinting at something!
“How about it? Can you capture this feeling?” Ling Beina’s voice sounded from the side, carrying a hint of subtle scrutiny.
“I… I’ll go back and try my best…” I answered immediately, wanting nothing more than to grab my pen display and flee this suffocating space.
“Go back?” Ling Beina raised an eyebrow slightly. Her tone remained gentle, but it carried an air that brooked no argument. “Just draw here. I’d like to see your creative process anyway; it will make future communication easier.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Draw here?! In front of her? Drawing a scene like this?!
“But I…” I subconsciously tried to find an excuse, like not having all my tools.
“Didn’t you bring your pen display with you?” Ling Xiaoxiao blurted out from the side, puncturing my excuse. “I saw you carrying it on your back when I dragged you over earlier!”
I froze in place, wishing I could glare a hole through my talkative rabbit roommate. It was true; I hadn’t even gone home after returning from the competition venue, so my art bag was naturally still on my back.
Ling Beina watched me with composed interest, the smile on her lips deepening. “It seems it was meant to be. Then… shall we begin?”
She pointed to a low table beside the sofa, gesturing for me to draw there.
I was backed into a corner.
Steeling myself, I sluggishly moved to the low table and sat cross-legged, taking out my pen display and connecting it. I opened the drawing software and created a new canvas. Even though I had been drawing for so long, I still felt flustered during this simple step.
I could feel Ling Beina’s gaze landing on my back and the side of my face. It was like warm sunlight, yet it made me so restless I could hardly sit still. The paw holding the pressure-sensitive pen sweated slightly, and the tip of the pen hovered over the screen, hesitant to make a mark.
‘I’m dead, I’m dead… To draw this kind of scene while being watched by the person who inspired it… System, please don’t come out and cause trouble now!’
I forced myself to concentrate, recalling the description in the manuscript and trying to capture that sense of lazy aggression.
Finally, the pen tip touched the screen with a slight tremble.
The pen tip glided across the display, making a faint scratching sound. I focused my attention on the lines and composition, sketching out two blurred figures—one trapping the other between the wall and herself.
“Speaking of which, Little Guiyun,” Ling Beina’s lazy voice drifted over from beside me. She had curled back onto the sofa at some point, hugging a cushion, yet her eyes remained fixed on my screen. “How does it feel… to become a girl?”
The pen slipped suddenly, dragging a jarring line across the screen. I hurried to use the undo command to erase it, feeling my recently cooled cheeks flare up again.
“It… it doesn’t feel like anything special…” I mumbled, my eyes glued to the screen, not daring to look at her. “I’m just… used to it.”
“Is that so?” There was a faint trace of regret in her voice. “What a pity. The protagonist of the book I’m writing is a shut-in boy who wakes up one day as a weak little girl, only to be bullied by the various girls around him… I really need some firsthand experience for material.”
She paused, her voice carrying a persuasive lilt. “If you have any special feelings—like your heart racing when a girl gets close, or your body becoming particularly sensitive—you could provide me with some inspiration.”
‘Never! I am definitely not giving you that kind of inspiration!’
I screamed internally, my grip on the pen tightening as my ears turned hot enough to burn. I could only purse my lips tightly and pretend all my focus was immersed in the drawing, using silence as my answer.
The lines under my pen unconsciously took on a slight tremor. The panic and helplessness in the eyes of the girl being pinned against the wall in the drawing seemed even more vivid than I had intended.
“Strange…” Ling Beina whispered to herself, her fingertip unconsciously pressing against her lower lip. “The more I look, the more I feel… this line work, these little details expressing shyness… they look really familiar. I’ve definitely seen a similar style somewhere before.”
Panic instantly flooded me, and the fur at the base of my tail stiffened. I fought to maintain my grip on the pen, my nails nearly digging into my palm.
“I-is that so?” I tried to make my voice sound like a simple question, but the end of the sentence trembled uncontrollably. “Maybe… it’s just a popular art style?”
Ling Beina shook her head thoughtfully, seemingly dismissing that explanation. She lowered her hand from her chin and made a move to stand up. “It’s not quite that. I have some memory of it, I think it was on a certain website… Wait a moment, I’ll go to the study and turn on my computer to check.”
It was over. If she actually compared them, she might really discover something!
I couldn’t let her go look!
“Don’t!” My voice jumped a bit too high out of desperation. Seeing Ling Beina pause and cast a confused glance my way, I quickly took a deep breath to suppress my racing heart. I came up with the most grand-sounding excuse I could manage.
“Sister Beina, if… if we interrupt now, the feeling I just found might be lost.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the drawing on the screen, trying to make my tone sound sincere yet possessed of an artist’s stubbornness. “Inspiration is a very precious thing; it would be a pity to break it.”
The air grew quiet for a few seconds. Her gaze lingered on me, filled with scrutiny and a hint of amusement.
Just as I was about to buckle under the pressure of the silence, she nodded and relaxed back into the sofa.
“Fine, the artist is the boss,” she said, her tone returning to its previous laziness. “Then continue. I won’t disturb you. Go on.”
My heart, which had been hanging in my throat, thudded back into place. A layer of cold sweat broke out across my back. I quietly let out a breath I had been holding for a long time, and the tip of my tail slumped weakly.
I held the pen and continued sketching on the screen, though every stroke had become incredibly difficult. My ears twitched uncontrollably, and the lines in the drawing shivered along with my nervous state. This feeling of guilt spread like a thick mist, making even the shadows under my pen feel exceptionally heavy.
Ling Beina still sat there quietly, but an invisible pressure enveloped the entire room. The tip of my tail swept nervously across the carpet as I forced myself to keep drawing.
At this moment, I felt as if I were walking on a thin wire; one tiny mistake and it would all be over.