Xu Tingchuan did not answer, but told Ni Sitian to go change her clothes.
After getting dressed, Xu Tingchuan took Ni Sitian out.
The two drove to a somewhat remote area in the suburbs and stopped their car in front of a white house.
The white three-story villa stands somewhat lonely at the foot of the mountain, surrounded by a flimsy wooden fence that offers little protection whatsoever, and the yard is filled with small white flowers.
The feeling this place gives is simple, clean, and very refreshing.
It's December now, and the somber colors, combined with the cold west wind, create a particularly lonely and desolate feeling.
"Where is this?" Ni Sitian stood in front of the door, turning her head to look at Xu Tingchuan in confusion.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to learn to draw before? I think the drawing classes on the market might not be suitable for you.” Xu Tingchuan took Ni Sitian’s hand, pushed open the small wooden gate, and walked into the yard. He said, “So I thought I’d find you a teacher for one-on-one instruction.”
Ni Sitian didn't expect Xu Tingchuan to take this matter so seriously. After all, at her age, learning to draw was just a hobby, and it was impossible for her to actually go to an art academy for further studies.
"Actually, it doesn't have to be that complicated. I can just find a job in the city."
"How can that be the same? If you're going to learn, of course you should find the best teacher." Xu Tingchuan pinched her little face and said with a faint smile, "Don't waste your talent."
"Well……"
His so-called talent was only recognized by his high school art teacher, but he took it so seriously.
A wave of emotion washed over Ni Sitian, and she gripped his hand tightly.
Xu Tingchuan raised his hand and knocked on the door.
After a long while, no one came to open the door.
"Could he not be home?" Ni Sitian looked up at Xu Tingchuan.
“He’s at home,” Xu Tingchuan said confidently. “He’s probably too focused on painting.”
"Who exactly is the teacher you found for me?" Ni Sitian asked curiously.
"It's Wu..."
Before Xu Tingchuan could finish speaking, the door was opened.
Ni Sitian looked up and saw an elderly man with white hair, who looked to be in his seventies or eighties, standing in front of her.
The old man had no white beard, and his eyes were particularly sharp. He wore a soft black satin Tang suit, which made him look even more elegant.
"Hello, Mr. Wu, it's been a long time." Xu Tingchuan was particularly respectful and polite to the old man.
The old man simply nodded to him without saying a word, then looked at Ni Sitian.
Ni Sitian felt a little nervous as the old man stared at her with sharp eyes, and she gripped Xu Tingchuan's hand tightly.
After staring at Ni Sitian for a while, the old man didn't say anything and turned to go into the house.
"What does this mean?" Ni Sitian asked Xu Tingchuan, puzzled.
“He didn’t close the door, which means we can go in.” Xu Tingchuan led Ni Sitian inside.
The two followed the old man up to the second floor.
There is a particularly large studio on the second floor, but apart from a half-finished painting, there are no other paintings inside. Unlike ordinary studios where various painting tools are always scattered in a mess, this one is neat and orderly, with everything clearly categorized.
Moreover, a huge, thick black curtain hangs here, blocking out all natural light, and the lights are on even in broad daylight.
After they went inside, the old man didn't say anything, but just sat down and continued painting his unfinished work.
Ni Sitian looked at the old man's drawing. It was a very simple sketch, but the content was incomprehensible.
It's probably because it's not finished yet, only halfway done, so it's not obvious to people.
"Here you go." The old man stood up and handed the pencil to Ni Sitian.
Ni Sitian was slightly surprised. She had no idea what she was supposed to draw or how to do it.
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