Clear sky on canvas
She remembered that one time during a break, when he left his seat to get some water, his sketchbook was open on the table, and she accidentally caught a glimpse of a few casually drawn line drawings of locomotives on it.
Although it is just a rough draft with just a few strokes, the smooth and powerful lines, the precise grasp of the locomotive structure and perspective relationship, and the unrestrained sense of speed revealed in the picture all demonstrate his extraordinary painting talent and solid modeling foundation.
That is definitely not a level that can be achieved simply by "liking to doodle as a child". Without certain training and a lot of practice, it is impossible to have such brushwork and sense of composition.
Moreover, painting motorcycles... This theme with its sense of unruliness, freedom and speed formed a strange contrast with his usual calm and even somewhat depressed appearance, making her even more curious about what kind of world he was hiding in his heart.
An idea emerged in her mind, carrying a hint of adventurous courage and faint expectation.
Perhaps, this is an opportunity, an opportunity for him to integrate into the group a little bit and for her to understand him better.
Completing a work together may be the best way to break down that invisible barrier and get closer to his inner world.
She mustered up her courage and took advantage of the moment when the bell rang and the surroundings became noisy, with voices bustling and the clatter of tables and chairs echoing around her. She turned to Gu Nanxiao and asked softly, with a hint of subtle nervousness and cautious tentativeness in her voice.
"Gu Nanxiao, our class needs to submit a painting for the school art festival, and the teacher has given me this task."
She paused, observing his reaction, and seeing that he had merely stopped checking his calculations and showed no sign of impatience or outright refusal, she continued, her tone more sincere, full of appreciation and invitation.
"I saw the drawings in your sketchbook and I think you draw very well and are very talented. Can you... help me?"
She raised her eyes, her clear gaze filled with anticipation as she looked into his bottomless eyes.
Gu Nanxiao's slender fingers, which were packing up stationery, paused slightly, as if a little surprised that she would suddenly make this request. He raised his eyes, and his dark eyes looked at her, with a hint of imperceptible surprise flashing in them, as if a small stone was thrown into the calm lake.
He was silent for a few seconds, his eyes sweeping over the undisguised sincere expectation and cautious inquiry in her eyes, as if he was weighing something, or as if he was fighting against some inherent habit of refusing to have deep contact with people.
The noise in the classroom seemed to become a vague background sound. Time slowed down in this small space. Jiang Yile could even hear his own rapid heartbeat.
Finally, he nodded almost imperceptibly, his voice still flat, but without any hesitation: "Okay."
Just one word made Jiang Yile feel inexplicably relieved, and even a small, indescribable joy surged up in his heart, as if countless tiny bubbles were bubbling up in his heart, dispelling his previous uneasiness.
She didn't expect him to agree so readily, without much thought.
"That's great! Thank you!" Her smile blossomed unconsciously, like a ray of bright sunlight suddenly piercing through the clouds, instantly lighting up her bright face, and her eyes curved into beautiful crescents. "Then... let's go to the art classroom after school? There's good light, it's quiet, and they have all the tools."
She planned quickly, her tone light.
"Um."
Gu Nanxiao nodded again, agreeing to this temporary, "forced" "cooperation".
So, from that day on, every day after school, the two would tacitly leave the classroom one after the other, walk through the noisy corridor and the gradually quiet campus, and go to the art classroom on the top floor of the experimental building, which was usually seldom visited, and stay there for about an hour.
The art classroom is large and spacious. The air is always filled with a unique smell of turpentine, various pigments and old canvases. For those who love painting, this is a soothing and intoxicating smell and a hotbed of creativity.
Outside the tall floor-to-ceiling windows are lush trees and the undulating city skyline in the distance.
In the evening, the setting sun shines through the clean, almost transparent glass windows, dividing the entire studio into warm and quiet areas of light and dark.
In the golden beam of light, countless tiny dust particles danced like golden elves, and time seemed to slow down here.
Their collaborative work is a large oil painting, the theme of which is the famous tree-lined avenue on campus, with tall sycamore trees on both sides.
Capturing the moment when golden leaves interweave with light and shadow under the autumn sunshine, it symbolizes harvest, precipitation and the passage of time. It fits the atmosphere of the graduating class very well, and also carries a hint of poetry and sentimentality belonging to youth.
Jiang Yile is mainly responsible for the overall composition design, color control and drawing of the main scenery.
Her brushstrokes are delicate, her sense of color is sharp and warm, she is particularly good at capturing light and shadow, and she is good at creating atmosphere.
Gu Nanxiao was more responsible for some auxiliary work that required strength, such as helping her to tighten the canvas, nail the inner frame, adjust the background color of large areas or blocks of color that required a lot of repetition, or help her when she couldn't reach the top of the canvas and needed a hand.
He was very focused when adjusting colors, and seemed to have a natural sensitivity and intuition about the brightness, purity, coldness and warmth of colors. He could often adjust colors very accurately and with rich layers, which was highly consistent with the atmosphere she wanted.
The look of his fingers stained with colorful paint was completely different from the cold look he usually had when holding a pen to write. It carried a primitive and focused charm that belonged to artistic creation, as if at that moment, he had let down some of his defenses and merged into the world of colors.
They spent most of their time painting quietly, occasionally exchanging a few words about some details, and their voices were particularly clear in the empty studio.
"Gu Nanxiao, do you think the color of the teaching building in the distance is too striking? Should it be made a little grayer and moved further away to enhance the sense of space?"
Jiang Yile took a few steps back, squinted his eyes and looked at the overall effect. He was a little undecided and asked for his opinion.
Gu Nanxiao put down the brush he was using to paint the background, walked over to her, and followed her gaze.
He was so close that Jiang Yile could smell his clean, unique scent mixed with turpentine and paint, which made her heart skip a beat.
He pondered for a moment, then pointed to the slightly abrupt warm yellow on the canvas. "Add a little ultramarine and burnt sienna to reduce the purity. At the same time, you can blur the edges a little more and use a sweeping brush."
His advice is always concise and precise.
Jiang Yile tried it as he was told, dipping his paintbrush into the color he mentioned, carefully blending and applying the color, and gently sweeping the edge with the tip of the brush.
The effect was immediate. The sense of depth of the space was immediately enhanced, the layers of distant and near views became clearer, and the picture became more harmonious.
"Yes! That's right! Gu Nanxiao, you really understand colors!"
She exclaimed sincerely, her eyes sparkling with excitement and the joy of solving the problem, as if tiny stars fell into them.
She turned her head and looked at him with a bright smile, not sparing her praise.
Gu Nanxiao didn't respond, but turned back to his palette and continued to mix the next color. But Jiang Yile seemed to see the corners of his slightly pursed, clearly defined lips twitching upwards almost imperceptibly. Perhaps that could be called an extremely tiny, fleeting smile?
Like a small stone thrown into a deep pool, it disappeared before the ripples spread out, so fast that she wondered if it was her illusion. But it was like a feather, gently scratching the tip of her heart, leaving a slight itchy mark.
Sometimes when Jiang Yile got tired of painting, he would stand up and stretch his sore neck and wrists, and his eyes would unconsciously fall on Gu Nanxiao.
He was lowering his head and using a tiny liner pen to outline the texture and light and shadow of the sycamore tree trunk with a focused expression. The warm golden light of the setting sun fell on his drooping, thick eyelashes, coating them with a layer of soft, furry velvet. The cold and hard lines that usually seemed to be kept away from strangers seemed to be quietly melted in such a quiet and warm light and shadow, revealing a tranquil, dedicated, almost gentle temperament, which was particularly attractive.
She stared at it, a little lost in thought, until he raised his eyes as if aware of something, and their gaze met hers unexpectedly. She hurriedly looked away, pretending to be looking at the scenery outside the window or examining other parts of the painting, but her heart skipped several beats uncontrollably, like a frightened deer.
"Gu Nanxiao, have you ever studied painting before?"
Once, during a break, the two of them leaned against the window to drink water, and Jiang Yile couldn't help but ask a question that had been in his mind for a long time.
His skills and sense of the picture are not just a result of interest, but an almost instinctive control ability.
She handed him an unopened bottle of mineral water, opened one for herself, and drank it in small sips.
His mixing of colors slowed down, and he did not answer immediately. Instead, he unconsciously and slowly stirred the small pile of colorful colors on the palette with a small scraper, watching them blend and separate under the knife to form new hues.
The studio was very quiet, with only the clear chirping of returning birds outside the window and the faint noise of the city in the distance.
After a while, he whispered, his voice deeper than usual, with an imperceptible vagueness and dimness, as if covered with a layer of dust.
"No. I just...liked doodling when I was a kid."
This answer was completely inconsistent with the professional-grade lines in his sketchbook and seemed more like a perfunctory excuse.
Jiang Yile could keenly sense the subtle evasion and sudden gloom in his tone, as if it touched upon some past that he did not want to recall.
She thought of the mysterious rumors about his transfer to the school, and the melancholy that was inconsistent with his age. She vaguely felt that this might be related to "some things" that he didn't want to mention.
That incident seemed to have deprived him of the right to continue painting, or...desire, separating him from the world he once loved.
She didn't want to touch upon his sorrow, so she went along with his words, speaking sincerely with undisguised admiration in her eyes.
"You're really talented. If you like it, why didn't you continue to study it systematically?"
She felt that with his talent and intuition, if he persisted in studying, he would definitely achieve something in painting, even as great as the brilliance he showed in his studies.
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