Chapter 10 Cosmos (9) You really like drawing...
Lin Xia's wound completely scabbed over after a week and no longer affected her walking, but a large area of black and brown color condensed on her skin, which was particularly ugly. Lin Xia locked herself in the room and didn't want to see anyone.
He Chuan thought she was hiding and crying again, so he knocked on the door and went in. He found her sitting at the desk in a daze with a pile of pencils and erasers in front of her.
"Eat watermelon?"
Lin Xia shook her head: "I'm so full, I can't eat anymore."
"See a movie?"
Lin Xia shook her head again: "I've seen too much, and my eyes hurt."
He Chuan continued to ask in a good-tempered manner:
"So what do you want to do?"
Lin Xia turned around and answered honestly:
“Actually, I want to paint.”
She had been planning to continue going to the studio this holiday, but because Lin Xuedong and Zhao Qianyi were out, she had to come to Lin Haisheng's house, putting her painting on hold. Her teacher, worried she'd fallen behind, repeatedly urged her to practice regularly, but she'd been lazy and hadn't picked up a brush since the holiday. The guilt she felt had been growing stronger over the past few days, and today, she decided she couldn't go on like this.
"The painting."
"But I didn't bring my sketchpad and paper."
“Is rice paper okay?”
Lin Xia smiled: "Of course not."
He Chuan thought for a moment and said, "Then let's look in the study."
"good."
Lin Haisheng's family had plenty of paper. While they didn't have pencil drawing paper or gouache paper, Lin Xia and He Chuan found a white paper with a texture more suitable for drawing. The paper was quite old and a little yellowed, but still usable. He Chuan helped Lin Xia cut the paper into 8K pieces. He then found a thin, flat piece of plywood and nailed the paper to it, creating a simple drawing board.
Lin Xia tried the feel of it and nodded reservedly: "It's okay."
Then she squatted beside the trash can and started sharpening pencils. He Chuan was worried that she might accidentally cut herself, but he didn't expect that this little girl, who had never touched water before, picked up the utility knife and was very skilled and dexterous. With sawdust and lead dust flying everywhere, she had sharpened several pencils in a blink of an eye.
This is the basic skill for an art student, and it is impossible for Lin Xia to fail at it.
Then she picked up a 4B Zhonghua pen with a refill sharpened to a frighteningly long point, propped her chin up with her hand, and looked around casually.
"What should I draw?"
Apples? Eggs? Enough drawing. As for bottles and jars, none of them at Grandpa's are very pretty. As for sketching outside, the sun is too strong and it's very hot...
His gaze moved around and finally landed on the person in front of him.
"It's decided, it's you!"
He Chuan lowered his eyes and looked at the pencil pointing at him seriously, feeling a little amused:
"That's what you planned from the beginning, right?"
Lin Xia was exposed without any embarrassment, she just begged with a smile:
"How is it? Is it good?"
He Chuan sighed: "Can I sit down?"
"sure."
"Can I read a book?"
"Of course you can. You don't have to stay still. Just get into a comfortable position."
Under Lin Xia's guidance, He Chuan took a stool and sat in a brightly lit place in the living room. Lin Xia walked around him, found a better angle for painting, set up the drawing board, and began to paint.
She said a little embarrassedly:
"I've just started learning portraits, and I'm not very good at it yet. If I don't draw well, you can't laugh at me."
"Using me as a training ground?" He Chuan smiled. "I believe you are the best in the city."
He teased her again, and Lin Xia wrinkled her nose and snorted:
"Just wait and see!"
As she spoke, she took a look at the proportions with a pen, and then began to draw on the paper, first determining the point, composing the picture, then drawing the outline, outlining the shape, and the geometric shapes formed by the lines spread out, and the general outline of a person was determined.
Lin Xia hadn't painted for a while, so her hands were a little unfamiliar. It took her a while to get used to it before she slowly found the feeling and gradually got into the groove.
After the shape was drawn, the next step was to draw the facial features. After the three parts and five eyes were determined, Lin Xia began to observe He Chuan openly and carefully.
The summer afternoon sun shone through the clean glass onto his body, casting shadows on the lace curtains. Dust fluttered lightly in the beam of light. He lowered his head and stared intently at the book in his hand, revealing the most suitable three-quarter profile of his face. He had fair skin, and was gentle and delicate. He had droopy eyes, and his double eyelids were very wide and deep. When he lowered his eyes, his eyelashes appeared particularly long.
Lin Xia thought he was handsome from the very beginning and wanted to draw him from the very beginning.
No creator can refuse beautiful things, because they are the source of inspiration and the nourishment of artistic vitality. They are solidified by brushes and frozen by time. Even if time passes, the muse on paper will always be fresh and young.
The room was very quiet, with only the regular and light sound of the pen hitting the paper. It made people feel very calm and peaceful, as if they would fall asleep if they were not careful.
He Chuan also began to feel sleepy, and his back gradually became stiff, but he didn't dare to make any big movements. He just raised his eyes slightly and looked at Lin Xia.
But she seemed not to feel his gaze at all. She just glanced at him symbolically, and then continued to draw on the paper, constantly adding details. She was completely immersed in the world of light, shadow and lines, with a light joy in the corners of her eyebrows and eyes.
The painter is looking at the person in the painting, and the person in the painting is also looking at the painter.
He Chuan suddenly spoke softly:
"You really like painting."
"Um?"
Lin Xia was stunned when she heard this, and the pen in her hand stopped.
"Do I like painting?"
"Isn't it? When you paint, you are so happy."
"No, no, and neither no," Lin Xia frowned slightly, a little distressed, "I have never thought about this question."
Initially, it was Zhao Qianyi who asked her to study art. She was still young at that time, and her parents' arrangement was like an imperial decree, so she had no right to refuse.
Later, it was to go to high school. With her grades, getting into a key high school in the high school entrance exam wasn't a sure thing, so choosing the art path was a way to overtake others. Many of her classmates were like this, choosing long-distance running or broadcasting simply for the sake of further education.
But with daily practice, she discovered she always understood things faster than her classmates and painted better. Frequent praise from teachers and the honors she won in competitions gave her unprecedented confidence and satisfaction—the complete opposite of the frustration she felt when faced with words she couldn't memorize, ancient texts she couldn't understand, or equations she couldn't solve. It turned out she wasn't clumsy, but rather that her talent lay beyond her studies. It turned out she had strengths, too, but they hadn't been discovered before. At school, she was unknown, but in the studio, she was always the best example. So this is what it feels like to be a top student!
The more she was praised, the harder she worked, and the better she painted. This virtuous cycle continued, and painting naturally became more and more important in her life. To this day, she can proudly say that painting is what she does best!
So, do you like it?
How to define like?
Is liking something purely because of the benefits and glory it brings? So what if it's not pure? Humans are animals that seek benefits and avoid harm. Liking something is certainly because of its positive aspects, but what if it also brings pain, sadness, and a host of other negative things?
Every weekend, every holiday, whenever spring was bright and autumn leaves were falling, while her peers were enjoying themselves, she would carry her sketchpad and supplies to the studio, regardless of wind or snow, sitting there all day, her hands and arms covered in lead dust, her clothes and shoes stained with paint. Not every painting went smoothly; there were always key points that seemed simple but her hands couldn't keep up with her eyes. After being criticized by the teacher, she would sulk and cry for days.
But even so, even so, she still persisted and never thought of giving up.
Even during this holiday after the exams, when she had no one to supervise her little paradise, she still couldn't help but pick up her paintbrush and use her makeshift drawing board to arrange light, shadow, black and white with tones on this yellowed old paper. In this small space, she was the god of creation, making up the world.
If this isn't love, then what is it?
Suddenly, Lin Xia figured it all out. This was a simple question that she had never seriously considered, and it was destined to change her life. In that split second, she got the answer.
There are many moments in life that seem magnificent when looking back, but in fact, at that moment, it was just an ordinary day.
"yes!"
She smiled, a bright and brilliant smile,
“I just love drawing!”
Seeing her smile, He Chuan couldn't help but smile too.
"You're lucky."
In fact, most children have encouraging personalities, but traditional education emphasizes knowing shame and then being brave. Under constant blows and punishments, the talents and interests of many people are buried.
She discovered her own interests and did not waste her talents. What she likes and what she is good at happens to be the same thing. She shines in her little world. Is there anything luckier in the world than this?
"Yeah! I think so too!"
Lin Xia nodded vigorously, and then she asked him:
"What about you? Do you have any hobbies? Hey, don't mention studying. I don't believe anyone likes studying."
He Chuan laughed: "Of course not."
"What is that? Is it calligraphy?"
He Chuan was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "I can only say that I don't hate it."
Lin Xia was a little surprised. Didn't he like calligraphy? Could he be so good at it even if he didn't like it?
"I may not have any hobbies," He Chuan chuckled, "I don't need any hobbies either. If I'm not like you and treat my hobbies as a career, it will be a burden."
"What's holding you back? Study exams?" Lin Xia was surprised. "But you've already graduated. Even if you want to study abroad in the future, you don't have to push yourself so hard. You're so smart and a great student, there's no way you can do it!"
"I hope so."
He Chuan didn't delve into the topic, but simply responded briefly, then asked her:
"How long will it take to finish? It's getting dark."
Lin Xia then remembered that she still had some unfinished painting to do, and quickly said:
"Wait a minute, I haven't finished drawing the details yet."
Then she continued to paint, but after just a few strokes, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her arm.
She twisted her arm and saw that a small piece of the scab had fallen off, revealing the new tender flesh underneath and a faint trace of blood.
"What's wrong?"
She raised her hand towards He Chuan who was walking towards her:
"Maybe it accidentally rubbed against the paper."
"Indeed." He Chuan frowned, "The way you held the pen just happened to rub right here."
The two looked at each other, and then looked at the unfinished painting at the same time.
On the white paper, although the light and shadow are still very sloppy, the outline of the figure and the facial features have taken shape. It can be seen that the painter is indeed not very skilled in portrait painting. However, what is rare is that he has captured the model's spirit very accurately. Anyone who looks at it will know who the painting is about.
He Chuan was helpless: "Don't draw it anymore. If you hurt yourself again, you will get a scar."
Of course Lin Xia didn't want to be left with a scar, but there was nothing she could do at this point, so she nodded reluctantly.
But she was a little unwilling to give up, as giving up halfway was not her style, so she asked:
"When will you be my model again?"
"You'll have a chance after your injury heals."
"All right."
That night, Lin Xia put the unfinished painting in her sketchbook, waiting for the day when she could complete it. At that time, she thought that time was not too far away.
People are always used to talking about the future, not knowing whether they are too sure about the future or too confident in fate. Little do they know that all life is only in the present moment, and every minute and every second can be controlled. The future is long, and everything is illusory.
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