“Finding inspiration from me?” I shook my head vigorously, my tail slapping the floor restlessly. “I can’t do that, Sister Bena! I’m nothing like the protagonist in your book!”
Just imagining having to experience that feeling of being trapped again — or even worse — made my cheeks burn fiercely. That feeling of inescapable pressure and the panic that made my heart almost leap out of my chest… once was enough for me.
Ling Bena didn’t argue; she just gave a soft “Mm” to acknowledge me. She picked up her water glass, took a slow sip, and gazed out the window. Her tone held a touch of pensive driftiness.
“I know, I’m asking a lot of you.” She paused, turning her gaze back to me. There was no coercion in her eyes; instead, there was a bit more understanding and… a hint of undetectable loneliness? “It’s just that with writing, sometimes when you’re stuck, you need a bit of real ‘inspiration’ to continue. Xiaoxiao always says your drawings are soulful. I thought perhaps you could help me break through this bottleneck.”
Her words were like a feather, gently scratching a corner of my heart. She wasn’t commanding; she was describing a predicament, the struggle of a creator. This made my tensed nerves relax just a tiny bit, but my guard remained.
“But…” I whispered, my claws unconsciously digging into the sofa cover, “that kind of thing… is too strange…”
“I understand,” she replied immediately, her voice gentle and soothing. “We don’t necessarily have to replicate the scenes in the book exactly. Just like before, I only wanted you to feel that ‘atmosphere’ more directly to make it easier for you to paint, right?” She casually attributed the earlier intimate contact to “for the sake of art,” leaving me unable to find a stronger reason to argue for a moment.
Seeing my hesitation, she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping even softer, as if negotiating. “Besides, Little Guiyun, this apartment you’re living in is in a good location. Actually, according to market value, it could be rented out for a much higher price.”
The sudden change in topic stunned me, and my ears instinctively perked up.
She continued in that calm tone, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with me. “Over the past six months, your finances might not have been very stable, and I haven’t really pushed you about the rent. Seeing how hard you’ve been working for the competition, running around alone with your painting gear — I think you’re a kid with a lot of grit. It hasn’t been easy.”
Every word was like a pebble dropped into the lake of my heart, rippling outward with waves of guilt. It was true; she had known all along, yet she had never made things difficult for me. This silent care, now spoken aloud in such a considerate manner, made me feel more ashamed than any reprimand could. My tail curled up shamefully, pressing tight against my leg. I didn’t even dare to look her in the eye.
“I… I know, Sister Bena. I owe you too much…” My voice was so low it was almost inaudible.
“Don’t say that.” She interrupted me gently, her gaze sincere. “Everyone has hard times. I was just thinking… maybe we could find a way to help each other?”
She paused, observing my reaction, before slowly voicing her proposal. “You help provide me with some ‘inspiration’ and references for my work so I can finish this book smoothly. As for your overdue rent, and if we have a more formal collaboration later — like illustrations — the fees can be discussed or even deducted. That way, you can keep pursuing your dreams with peace of mind and lighten your burden, right?”
She painted a “win-win” picture. It was no longer a one-sided demand, but “mutual help.” She understood my dreams, empathized with my situation, and provided a solution that seemingly solved my biggest worry.
The words of refusal were stuck in my throat, unable to be spoken. A strong sense of shame was still pulling at me, but another force — the need for a stable home, the fear of financial pressure, and gratitude for her charity in a time of need — was growing stronger.
I looked at her gentle yet expectant gaze, thought about her tolerance over the past six months, then thought about my empty wallet and my distant dream of a studio…
The scales in my heart, after shaking violently, finally tipped, bit by bit, irreversibly.
“Okay.” This single word felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, escaping my lips with a tremor of resignation. “I… I’ll try.”
The moment the words left my mouth, a strong sense of regret surged up! ‘How could I have agreed? This was clearly—’
But it was too late.
A relaxed and satisfied smile bloomed on Ling Bena’s face, a few degrees softer than the moonlight outside. “Wonderful. I knew Little Guiyun was the most sensible.”
Looking at her smile, I felt my heartbeat spiraling completely out of control, drumming frantically in my chest. At the thought of having to face this kind of blush-inducing inspiration-gathering often in the future, my legs went weak.
It felt like I had thrown myself into a sweet yet dangerous whirlpool.
The corners of Ling Bena’s mouth curled into a slight arc, making my heart race faster and faster.
“Since you’ve agreed, why don’t we try it once right now? Just to get a feel for it.” Her tone was nonchalant, as if suggesting another glass of water.
“N-Now?!” My voice almost cracked, and my tail stiffened instantly. “I haven’t finished my drawing yet! Yes, the drawing is more important!” Like grasping at a lifesaver, I hurriedly pointed at the nearby graphics tablet. That unfinished artwork had become my best shield.
Ling Bena glanced at the screen, a flicker of knowing amusement passing through her eyes as she saw right through my little scheme.
“Isn’t the base color already finished?” she said slowly, debunking my excuse in a single sentence. “Wouldn’t it be better to paint the remaining details after we’ve experienced it, while the feelings are still fresh?”
I opened my mouth, only to find that all my exits had been blocked by her gentle but firm approach. Looking at her unquestionable gaze and thinking about the promise I had just made under guilt and pressure, a sense of helplessness washed over me. I was like a hunter’s prey caught in a soft, inescapable web, only able to watch as the hunter approached.
“O-Okay.” My voice was as faint as a gnat’s, trembling with resignation.
Ling Bena smiled with satisfaction. She picked up the tablet on the sofa, her fingertips sliding skillfully a few times before handing it to me.
“Here, just this scene. It’s very simple.” Her tone remained relaxed.
I took a deep breath, feeling as though I were heading to an execution ground, and looked down at the screen. When my eyes hit those few short lines of text, my mind went completely blank.
The text clearly described: One girl lowered her head, her nose gently approaching the other girl’s neck, as if sniffing the faint scent on her body in an intimate and ambiguous posture.
‘Meow meow meow?!!! Sniffing… the neck…?’