Maintaining the Dignity of the Female Supporting Character - Chapter 18

The last morning class was art.

The art building was situated in a secluded spot, overlooking the lake with a bamboo grove behind it. The mist from the water dispersed in the breeze, making it a rare cool sanctuary on the school grounds during summer.

The art room had no air conditioning, with doors and windows wide open at both ends, offering a view of the wind rustling through the treetops outside.

Upstairs, some class was having a music lesson, learning “The Yellow River Cantata,” which completely shattered the artistic ambiance carefully cultivated by the rockery and streams around the art building.

Wen Shuangmu held her brush, occasionally squinting to compare with the subject on the platform before making a few strokes on her drawing paper. Her every gesture resembled that of an illustrator master who had come to sketch from life at a teaching scene.

Lu Jing sat on a high stool on the platform.

This semester’s art class focused mainly on sketching. Instead of starting with the usual lessons on light and shadow or geometric sketching, the art teacher allowed everyone to express themselves freely, using watercolors or paints as they wished, to first build interest in painting.

And Lu Jing was the teacher’s hand-picked model.

Thinking he could escape one art assignment, Lu Jing gladly agreed to the teacher’s request.

During the 40-minute class, Lu Jing’s gaze wandered aimlessly, familiarizing himself with the faces of classmates he hadn’t known well before.

The gauze curtains on both sides of the art room were drawn to the edges of the windows but still fluttered with the air currents.

Wang Chengshuo had drawn Lu Jing into some bizarre form and kept chuckling as he drew.

Lu Jing initially wanted to warn him off with a glare, but Wang Chengshuo’s laughter was so intense that Lu Jing eventually couldn’t even be bothered to get angry.

Looking elsewhere, the atmosphere around Wen Shuangmu was completely different.

She sat with a straight back, eyes focused, holding her brush with meticulous care.

It was as if she was recreating a perfect work of art.

She looked so professional that it created a sense of distance.

Lu Jing thought, this is how a proper artist should behave, doing justice to their model.

The bell for the end of class rang in the teaching building.

The art teacher had no intention of extending the class. She appointed Lu Jing as the class representative, asking everyone to complete their works after class, and for him to collect them all and submit them to her office by next Wednesday.

Lu Jing nodded in agreement, inconspicuously stretching his foot arch to loosen his stiff muscles.

The art teacher remembered something and added, “Oh right, Lu Jing, for your assignment, just pick any classmate as a model, draw them, and turn it in.”

Lu Jing, who had thought he’d escaped the assignment, replied, “…Oh, okay.”

It meant he wasn’t getting any perks at all; he had struck poses on the platform for nothing this class.

Lu Jing rubbed his neck as he got down, heading to the back seats to settle accounts with Wang Chengshuo, who had been laughing all class, intending to claim some compensation for image rights infringement.

Stopping beside Wang Chengshuo, he snatched the sketch paper just removed from the easel. The words of rebuke were on the tip of his tongue, but when he saw the Q-version image clearly, he swallowed them back.

It was actually quite good.

Lu Jing slapped the sketch paper back into Wang Chengshuo’s arms: “Seeing you laugh like a maniac, I thought you were deliberately messing with me.”

Wang Chengshuo coughed with a smile, raising his hand to cover his mouth: “I was laughing at Wen Shuangmu.”

“Hm?”

Lu Jing turned to look to the other side.

Wang Chengshuo looked along with him. Wen Shuangmu’s sketch paper was still openly displayed on the easel.

Wang Chengshuo’s laughter broke his words into fragments: “Isn’t it awesome? It’s like a rage comic! It doesn’t match your temperament at all, yet it captures all your characteristics. It’s uncannily like you, it’s killing me.”

Lu Jing stared at Wen Shuangmu’s drawing paper for two seconds, then suddenly lowered his head and laughed.

Exaggerated lines, distorted body shape, he wasn’t sure whether to say she had drawn his features lively or chaotic.

But he had to admit, it did bear some resemblance. She even included details like the red string on his wrist and the small red mole.

To think he had assumed she was brewing some masterpiece during class.

Seeing Lu Jing laugh, Wang Chengshuo patted his shoulder with an unsurprised look: “Right? How could anyone hold it in?”

As he spoke, he packed up his art book and drawing paper, giving Lu Jing a push, “Let’s go eat.”

Lu Jing didn’t move. He reached across the aisle, pointing to a spot on the drawing paper, and asked Wen Shuangmu, “What’s this?”

Wen Shuangmu, still seriously examining her own work, was startled by the sudden question.

Looking at where Lu Jing was pointing, she said, “Can’t you tell? It’s a bird.”

Wu Xiaoqi had insisted she add an egret to the picture, based on that golden egret badge. She had recreated about 50% of it.

Bird?

Lu Jing’s gaze fell on the hand in the drawing that was holding the bird’s string.

Walking a bird?

Lu Jing suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

He hadn’t expected it to be a hidden erotic manga.

But Wang Chengshuo beside him had a discerning eye: “Ah— you drew an egret, right? That’s a great idea.”

Wen Shuangmu, who had just been criticized by Wu Xiaoqi for drawing poorly, now encountered someone who appreciated her work. Her eyes immediately lit up, and saying “You have good taste,” she raised her fist for a bump.

Wang Chengshuo looked a bit surprised at her extended fist, and after a couple of seconds, slowly bumped it.

Lu Jing repeated in confusion: “Egret?”

Wang Chengshuo said: “It’s homophonous with your name.”

Lu Jing had a sudden realization.

After Lu Jing and Wang Chengshuo left the art room, Wu Xiaoqi was still muttering: “Little egret is just too kind-hearted, not even minding such an insult.”

Wen Shuangmu shrugged, her fingertip flicking over the paper: “What insult? Is it wrong to draw it so vividly?”

Wu Xiaoqi refused to let her aesthetic system be tainted by Wen Shuangmu: “You really should see the manga version of ‘Zhizhi Green Beauty’. Even as a background character, Lu Jing’s single panel makes people sigh that he’s truly the light of G University, owning millions in manga copyright.”

Wen Shuangmu was unimpressed: “If you give me that much money, I can draw like that too.”

“Are we discussing money here?!” Wu Xiaoqi saw Ji Jiahui coming down from the front to find Wen Shuangmu for lunch. “By your logic, Ji Jiahui can draw Lu Jing so well not because of her excellent drawing skills, but because she’s powered by love and sees money as dung?”

Wen Shuangmu had witnessed Ji Jiahui’s superior skills countless times in middle school, so she was used to Wu Xiaoqi’s praise: “Well, you don’t know this, but Ji Jiahui’s mother’s maiden name is actually Ma.”

Wu Xiaoqi: “?”

Wen Shuangmu: “You’ve heard of Ma Liang the Magic Brush, right? If you trace her mother’s family tree back eighteen generations, they’re from the same lineage as Ma Liang.”

Wu Xiaoqi: “!”

Wu Xiaoqi: “I always thought Ma Liang the Magic Brush was just a fairy tale, it actually exists!”

This time it was Wen Shuangmu’s turn to be surprised: “You actually believed that? I just made it up.”

Wu Xiaoqi: “……”

Having had enough of joking, Wen Shuangmu started packing up her paper and pens before Ji Jiahui came close, not wanting to embarrass herself.

Ji Jiahui was clearly in a good mood and took the initiative to ask, “Shuangmu, how did your drawing turn out?”

Wen Shuangmu was familiar with Ji Jiahui’s routine of false modesty, which was nothing more than seeking a comparison to elevate herself.

“Being ugly in a stylish way is also a style, I suppose.” Wen Shuangmu didn’t give her a chance to set up, rolling her drawing into a tube and walking out side by side with her. “How about yours? Let me see.”

Ji Jiahui’s expression showed a bit of regret, but it was quickly replaced by excitement: “The light and shadow on Lu Jing from my angle were absolutely perfect.”

Wen Shuangmu tilted her head to look at the drawing she unfolded, her steps faltering slightly. She had to admit it was quite stunning.

Wen Shuangmu couldn’t pinpoint whether it was because of the hair tips, the eyes, or some other facial feature, but in Ji Jiahui’s portrayal, the subtle, mysterious feeling Lu Jing gave off when spacing out was fully captured on paper.

The expression looked seemingly transparent, yet gave people a sense of being fooled. Ji Jiahui had perfectly captured a certain ambiguous, elusive atmosphere about Lu Jing.

However—

If she remembered correctly, in her previous life, the art teacher should have called her up as the model. It felt like Ji Jiahui had only used half her skill when drawing her.

Wen Shuangmu decided to freeload a drawing, just like in her previous life: “Wow, your drawing looks so good! When you have time, draw one for me too, okay?”

Ji Jiahui: “…Sure.”

The art building was quite far from the school cafeteria.

Most of the students in the class rolled up their books as soon as class ended and rushed to the cafeteria.

Walking under the shade of trees, Ji Jiahui suddenly said, as if seeing something: “Let’s go to the classroom first to drop off our books.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” Wen Shuangmu wasn’t in a hurry.

When they entered the teaching area, Wen Shuangmu noticed that Lu Jing and Wang Chengshuo, who had been walking in front of them, had also come back for a trip.

When they reached the third floor, Lin Sen, who had been standing by the corridor railing like a statue waiting for her husband’s return, rushed over to them. “What took you two so long? I should have just gone to eat with my own classmates.”

As he spoke, he hooked an arm around one of them and started dragging them towards the stairwell.

Wen Shuangmu was right behind them, nearly bumping into them. She took a step back, her feet feeling weak and unsteady.

Lu Jing’s hand moved quickly, lifting halfway before seeing that she had steadied herself, and then dropping back down.

The boisterous Lin Sen finally noticed there was someone else nearby and quickly apologized.

Wen Shuangmu didn’t respond, only moving aside to make room for them. Ji Jiahui was the one who said, “It’s alright.”

After the three boys had gone down the stairs, Ji Jiahui suddenly peered down through the gap in the stairwell and said softly, “Lu Jing smells quite nice.”

She seemed to realize it was a bit odd for girls to discuss such topics in private, but her curiosity got the better of her. Unable to resist, she asked Wen Shuangmu, “Can you tell what fragrance he’s using?”

Wen Shuangmu’s mother’s advertising company often received perfumes and fragrances as gifts from various brands. When she couldn’t use them all herself, she would sometimes give them to classmates as presents, so everyone assumed she was an expert on the subject.

“…I think it’s just the scent of his laundry detergent.”

Ji Jiahui mused, “Really? I thought I caught a hint of lime and jasmine…”

Seeing Ji Jiahui muttering to herself, Wen Shuangmu fell silent. She turned to Wu Xiaoqi and asked, “What is she doing? What’s she trying to analyze?”

Wu Xiaoqi replied, “Don’t act like you weren’t doing the same thing this morning when you sat behind Su Qiyan.”

Wen Shuangmu’s face suddenly grew thin-skinned as she adamantly denied it: “I did not!”

Wu Xiaoqi retorted, “You think I can’t hear your inner thoughts? You were going on about cedar top notes, middle notes, and base notes.”

Wen Shuangmu: “…”

She vowed to herself that she would get rid of this system one day.