Chapter 637 Heavy Rain
Finally, after school one day, he couldn't help but go to the school's painting studio.
It's a gathering place for art students.
In the future, they will all enter art academies and freely paint the landscapes and figures they want.
Amidst the unique smell of paint and drawing paper, Wen Luyan couldn't help but put down his schoolbag and found a place to sit down.
When he picked up the pencil again, he could almost hear the sigh from his soul.
It was as if a small amount of water was flowing through every cell, and then each cell groaned and stretched deeply, feeling extremely comfortable.
It was a temporary liberation from the soul that had been constrained for so long.
The tip of the pen moved on the snow-white drawing paper, from a slight blockage at the beginning to a smooth and flowing movement later. The slight rustling sound sounded like nature to his ears.
Time passed by minute by minute, but the boy was completely unaware.
He sat here like any ordinary art student.
This gave him a temporary false sense of happiness.
However, this feeling of happiness did not last until the end.
After waiting for a long time at home, calling the teacher, and finally rushing to the school, his mother stood behind him expressionlessly and called his name, and the bubble burst.
The rustling stopped.
The tip of his pen left a sudden black dot on the paper, focusing his gaze.
The boy stared at the black spot intently.
Ugly, discordant, and a black spot that ruins everything.
His Adam's apple moved violently.
My mother's serious and rigid voice came from behind me again.
"Wen Lueyan."
The art students around him looked at him strangely.
Wen Lueyan finally moved slowly, like a robot, slowly took off the drawing paper, and picked up the schoolbag beside him.
The movements were so stiff that one could hear a crackling sound if one got close.
But no, in the end everyone only saw the boy who lowered his head and wanted to walk out, and his mother took away the drawing paper with an expressionless face.
Then he crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the ground without even looking at it.
"Let's go."
She said.
She walked out first.
The boy looked at the paper ball on the ground expressionlessly, clenched his hand holding the backpack slightly, trembled, and then loosened it.
He then left.
The art students at the back looked at each other, and then started discussing.
"Isn't that from the art class? His mother looks so fierce."
"Don't you know? That's Wen Lueyan from Class 1, Grade 3. He's the perverted number one. Oh, he got second last time, and that really made the perennial runner-up so happy."
"Why is he in the studio?"
"I heard you were an art student? You even won a big prize in the city."
"What's his mother like? Even if she doesn't allow him to paint, she doesn't have to destroy it, right?"
Someone couldn't help but walk over and pick up the paper ball on the ground, spreading it out carefully while muttering,
"Let me see the painting of the senior high school genius... Oh my god!"
The unfinished words took a turn in his mouth and turned into scattered exclamations.
He stared at the crumpled drawing paper in amazement.
Soon others gathered around curiously.
So everyone was stunned.
Even though the paper is wrinkled, it cannot hide the extraordinary excellence of this painting.
There were clusters of gray thorns covering the entire piece of paper, and a blood-soaked bird trying to break free from the thorns.
In the gray sky, dark clouds stretched to the end. Deep in the layers of shadows, a faint, golden light shone through. Only this vague halo illuminated half of the bird's wings.
Those rotten feathers, and drops of blood.
Those eyes reflected the light and also the endless dark clouds.
No sound is needed to allow people to hear the heart-wrenching wail coming from its weak body.
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