It fell from his fingertips

At 9:50 a.m. on Sunday, Tang Luoqing arrived at the entrance of the shared art studio in the cultural and creative park with her sketchbook in hand, feeling both nervous and somewhat unable to contain her anticipation.

The location was chosen by Zhou Jinbai.

When Zhou Yanchen relayed the message last time, he only said one sentence to Tang Luoqing: "My brother said that the shared art studio is convenient and has all the necessary art supplies. You can just go there directly."

Tang Luoqing was taken aback for a moment, then realized that Zhou Jinbai's choice of a crowded public studio was a good way to avoid both going to his office alone and causing gossip, as well as going to a private place and losing his composure. It was just like his usual style of doing things: aloof, thorough, and always maintaining the right distance.

Tang Luoqing took a deep breath and walked into the studio.

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from the ceiling to the floor, letting in the unreserved morning sunlight that fell on rows of neat solid wood easels.

The studio was quite crowded, mostly with students carrying easels or freelance illustrators, each engrossed in their own world.

Tang Luoqing glanced around and quickly spotted a spot by the window where Zhou Jinbai was standing next to the easel.

The man wasn't wearing a formal suit today; instead, he wore a light white shirt and casual trousers, with the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing his cool, bony wrists.

The man had his eyes downcast, his fingertips resting on the easel. His profile was sharp and distinct, and his long eyelashes cast a small, light shadow under his eyelids, making it impossible to discern the emotions in his eyes.

Even so, despite the room being filled with paint and drawing paper, and his casual attire, Zhou Jinbai stood there calmly, as if he possessed a cold, aloof aura, making him stand out from his surroundings and deterring anyone from disturbing him.

Hearing footsteps, Zhou Jinbai looked up, his gaze landing lightly on Tang Luoqing, and nodded: "You're here."

"Brother, I'm sorry, I'm not late, am I?"

Tang Luoqing walked over quickly, her cheeks flushed from the rush, and hurriedly handed over the sketchbook in her arms: "I brought all the sketches, but the ones of the lotus pond in late autumn are stuck on for almost three days. No matter how I revise them, they're not right. I'd like to trouble you, brother, to take a look."

"We agreed to meet at 10 o'clock, and I wasn't late."

"Okay, let me take a look."

Zhou Jinbai took the sketchbook and laid out the several sketches one by one on the empty drawing table next to him, looking at them very carefully.

Tang Luoqing stood next to Zhou Jinbai, nervously clutching the hem of her clothes.

During this time, she secretly glanced at the man's expression. She saw that his brows were slightly furrowed, and his gaze swept from the first picture to the last. He didn't say anything, but his aura exuded a reassuring sense of professionalism.

The studio was quiet, with the rustling sound of brushes gliding across paper being particularly clear. After a few minutes, Zhou Jinbai raised his finger and pointed to the withered lotus stem in the center of the drawing, his voice devoid of emotion: "The problem is here."

The man's fingers touched several scattered lotus stems, his well-defined fingers standing out clearly against the light brown drawing paper.

"The lotus stems are too uniform, with lines of almost the same thickness, and the force is too steady and too stiff."

The man turned his head to look at Tang Luoqing, his deep eyes reflecting the sunlight outside the window, making him look exceptionally profound.

Zhou Jinbai continued, "The withered lotus in late autumn has been battered by the wind and frost. Its stems are brittle, with breaks and bends. It doesn't stand there straight. If you try too hard to make the lines smooth, you'll lose the vitality of the withered lotus in autumn."

Tang Luoqing was slightly taken aback and quickly looked down.

Sure enough, the lotus stems she painted were smooth and flat, like carefully placed props, lacking any of the desolation and resilience of withered lotus in the autumn wind. Even with the addition of paint and ink, it did not achieve the effect required for a real withered lotus.

She said she felt something was off, but Tang Luoqing only dared to adjust the colors over and over again, never thinking about the lines, or maybe she did think about it but wasn't sure.

Now that Zhou Jinbai has said it, Tang Luoqing is certain.

"And here, and the water here."

Zhou Jinbai moved his fingertips down a little, landing on the water ripples below the drawing: "The reflection here is too solid, and the color is also too heavy. In late autumn, the water is shallow, the surface is clear and slightly empty. You need to leave some blank space to bring out the sparseness of the withered lotus."

Tang Luoqing's eyes lit up, and she quickly picked up her pen to revise it according to Zhou Jinbai's instructions. However, as the pen tip hovered over the paper, she was unsure of the pressure: "Brother, should we use the side of the brush to sweep the broken line on this withered stem?"

"Um."

Zhou Jinbai responded, and seeing that she was still hesitant, he reached into her pencil case, took out a pen, dipped it in ink, and with a flick of his wrist, swept the side of the pen down the lotus stem. Immediately, a rough, uneven line appeared on the paper, as if it had been broken by the autumn wind. It was crisp and even revealed the withered texture.

Throughout the process, Zhou Jinbai wrote quickly without any hesitation. Even though it was just two simple strokes, the entire lotus stem came to life instantly.

Tang Luoqing's eyes widened in disbelief.

She had studied freehand flower-and-bird painting in school before, and her teacher had talked about "seeking strength with dry brushstrokes" countless times, but no one had ever captured the essence of it like Zhou Jinbai with just two strokes.

He seems to have been born with an understanding of the spirit in paintings and the soul in brushstrokes. He doesn't need to say much; his brushstrokes are the answer.

"That's amazing..."

Tang Luoqing couldn't help but sigh softly, her tone full of undisguised admiration: "I've been pondering this for three days and couldn't figure out it was a problem with the lines. How did you see it at a glance, brother?"

Moreover, it can decide the fate of a situation with a single stroke.

Zhou Jinbai put the brush back on the brush holder, wiped the ink stains with his fingertips, and said in a calmer tone: "The more you draw, the more you'll be able to tell."

He spoke casually, but Tang Luoqing was deeply shaken.

She suddenly remembered what Zhou Yanchen had once said, that Zhou Jinbai was very talented and had won several international awards. Looking at the two strokes he casually made, she finally understood what it meant to be blessed with talent.

How regrettable it must have been for someone like that to give up painting back then, and how painful it must have been for him.

Tang Luoqing sighed inwardly, not daring to think too much, and quickly lowered her head to continue revising the painting.

With a direction in mind, the brushstrokes flowed smoothly, the strength of the withered lotus emerged, the blank space on the water surface was filled, and the desolate yet vigorous feeling of the whole painting immediately came through.

Zhou Jinbai stood by and watched, occasionally offering a word of advice, but his words were few and to the point.

"The edges of this withered leaf are too sharp; use a clear pen to blend them out a bit."

"Make the reeds in the distance blurry, so they don't overshadow the lotus in the main scene."

With each sentence Zhou Jinbai spoke, Tang Luoqing responded, adjusting her pen tip accordingly, drawing more and more smoothly, feeling a sense of exhilaration as if her Ren and Du meridians had been opened.

She became more and more engrossed in her drawing, occasionally glancing up at Zhou Jinbai. Seeing the serious look in his eyes, her heart would skip a beat, giving her a sense of satisfaction at being recognized by a respected senior or teacher. Then she would quickly lower her head and continue drawing, her cheeks quietly burning.

Tang Luoqing used to think that this older brother was aloof, serious, and quite intimidating.

But looking at him intently at the painting and listening to his unhurried guidance, I realized that he also had a very stable aura, as if any problem could be solved easily just by having him by my side.

Serious people truly shine.

The two of them were so engrossed in teaching and learning that they didn't notice that people around them were secretly watching them.

Zhou Jinbai's aura was simply too striking. His noble and aloof demeanor was completely out of place with the students in the art studio, which was filled with the smell of paint. In addition, his professionalism in pointing out the flaws in the paintings caused several girls who were painting nearby to exchange glances.

The girl sitting diagonally across from me is named Lin Xiaoxiao. She is a third-year art student and came to the studio today to finish her coursework. She has been stuck all morning. Her still life sketches are always criticized by her teacher for lacking spirit and being too rigid.

She stared at Zhou Jinbai for almost twenty minutes, watching him solve the problem that had been bothering Tang Luoqing for days with just a few words. She felt both envious and anxious. After hesitating for a long time, she finally mustered up her courage and walked over with her own drawing.

"Um... excuse me."

Lin Xiaoxiao stood by the drawing table, looked at Zhou Jinbai, and asked hesitantly in a soft voice, "Excuse me, could you also take a look at my drawing? This assignment is due tonight, and I still can't find any problems. If I don't correct it soon, the teacher will definitely scold me."

Upon hearing this, Tang Luoqing stopped writing, looked up at the girl next to her, and then subconsciously looked at Zhou Jinbai.

Zhou Jinbai didn't even look up, his gaze still fixed on Tang Luoqing's drawing, his tone cold and devoid of warmth: "Sorry, no."

The refusal was crisp, decisive, and left no room for negotiation.

In an instant, the expectation on Lin Xiaoxiao's face vanished.

She gripped the edge of the drawing with her fingertips, feeling both disappointed and embarrassed.

Lin Xiaoxiao didn't leave immediately. She stood there, unwilling to give up. After thinking for a moment, she turned to Tang Luoqing for help, softening her tone and pleading, "Beautiful sister, could you please have your boyfriend take a look at this for me? Please, please, I've really hit a roadblock. I've been working on it all night and still can't figure it out. If I don't pass, I'll fail this course. Please, sister."

Boy friend?

Tang Luoqing was startled by the title, and almost dropped the pen on the drawing paper.

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she quickly waved her hands, hurriedly explaining, "No, no, you've misunderstood, he's not my boyfriend."

Fearing the other person wouldn't believe her, Tang Luoqing quickly added, her voice strained, "He's my boyfriend's brother. I'm really sorry, please don't misunderstand."

After saying this, Tang Luoqing quickly glanced at Zhou Jinbai, afraid that he would be unhappy.

After all, given their sensitive identities, it would be inappropriate for outsiders to mistake them for a couple.

Fortunately, Zhou Jinbai didn't seem angry; he just remained outwardly indifferent, showing no signs of emotional fluctuation.

Tang Luoqing didn't see that Zhou Jinbai's hand, which was hanging naturally at his sides, clenched slightly from an angle unseen by outsiders when he heard Tang Luoqing deny her identity.

Lin Xiaoxiao, who was standing next to her, was also surprised.

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she was so embarrassed she felt like she was digging her toes out of a three-bedroom apartment. She quickly bowed and apologized, "I'm so sorry, I must have misjudged you. I'm really sorry, you two looked so well-matched that I thought..."

After apologizing, Lin Xiaoxiao stood there, unsure whether to stay or leave. After a few seconds of hesitation, clinging to her last shred of hope, she bit her lip and looked at Tang Luoqing, pleading softly, "Then...then you can ask your boyfriend..."

Before Lin Xiaoxiao could finish saying "Brother, please take a look," her voice was interrupted by a cold, clear voice.

Zhou Jinbai raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping lightly over the crumpled drawing in Lin Xiaoxiao's hand. His brows twitched almost imperceptibly, and he said without much emotion, "Give me the drawing."