Chapter 32: The Digital Canvas and Lingering Impressions

Zhong Tian’s drawing speed was exceptionally rapid.

Among his peers, his pace ranked among the swiftest. Readers and editors alike lauded him, calling him ‘God of Storyboarding, Genius of Manga!’

In a single afternoon, he could sketch out roughly twenty pages of storyboard drafts, refining most of them by nightfall.

Were he to dedicate an entire day to drawing, completing a full chapter within twenty-four hours was well within his capabilities.

Moreover, the quality of his work was consistently commendable.

Naturally, digital drawing played a significant role in accelerating his workflow.

Zhong Tian harbored immense admiration for those manga artists who still steadfastly adhered to traditional hand-drawn methods. To maintain both quality and speed with such a low margin for error was, he felt, truly remarkable.

He still felt somewhat lacking in comparison.

The pen in Zhong Tian’s hand glided deftly across the digital screen, and the first page was swiftly brought to completion.

Su Linxi, observing intently beside him, showed no signs of drowsiness whatsoever.

He recalled how, in his youth, he would struggle terribly with sleepiness whenever his father demonstrated drawing techniques. It wasn’t that the lessons were uninteresting; rather, his father preferred to draw in the mornings and teach in the evenings. The evenings themselves were naturally conducive to drowsiness, and combined with his father’s near-silent demonstrations and the almost hypnotic scratching of the pen on canvas, Zhong Tian would occasionally drift off to sleep.

Despite this, he had absorbed the knowledge quite effectively.

As a professor at the Academy of Fine Arts, his father’s teaching prowess was undeniably assured.

Su Linxi had looked after him all day; surely she must have been tired, yet she wasn’t drowsy… Was she the type who could stay up all night and still be full of energy?

Much like Li Jianren.

Zhong Tian turned his head once more, glancing at Su Linxi, who remained engrossed in his drawing. He reined in his wandering thoughts and returned his focus to his artwork.

Thus, two hours passed in silent absorption.

It was already nearing midnight.

Even if Su Linxi wasn’t tired, he himself was beginning to feel the onset of sleepiness.

With that thought, Zhong Tian saved his progress, set down his pen, and announced, “It’s getting late. Let’s call it a day.”

“Alright,” Su Linxi replied. “Then I’ll head back to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Watching Su Linxi depart from his room, Zhong Tian rose and retrieved a drawing tablet from his drawer.

It was a tablet he had purchased when he first began digital drawing, and it should still be functional.

Zhong Tian connected it to his computer, installed the latest drivers, and ran a quick test.

The familiar feel of it returned. While it was certainly inferior to a digital display tablet, it was more than adequate for a beginner. Thinking this, Zhong Tian carefully packaged the tablet and pen into a bag and placed them in his canvas satchel.

****

The following afternoon.

Zhong Tian arrived promptly at Chu Lenghu’s doorstep and pressed the doorbell.

Moments later, the door opened.

It wasn’t Chu Lenghu who greeted him, but her elder brother, Chu Han, the medical student with a passion for photography.

“Teacher Kezhong, hello.” Chu Han greeted him with a smile.

“Hello,” Zhong Tian responded politely.

He followed Chu Han inside, changed his shoes in the entryway, and settled onto a sofa in the living room.

At that moment, Chu Lenghu was in the kitchen, apparently washing dishes.

“Have you just finished lunch?” Zhong Tian asked, accepting a glass of water from Chu Han. “Thank you.”

“Yes,” Chu Han confirmed. “I’ll go get Lenghu.”

“Alright.”

Chu Lenghu emerged from the kitchen, dressed in her loungewear. Her hands were still damp, so she quickly pulled a few paper napkins to dry them. Upon seeing Zhong Tian, a radiant smile lit up her face.

“Good afternoon, Teacher,” she greeted.

“Mm,” Zhong Tian returned her smile. “Good afternoon.”

“Teacher, please follow me. The computer is in my room.”

This marked his second time entering Chu Lenghu’s room, and a faint, inexplicable sense of nervousness stirred within Zhong Tian. He couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin.

It certainly wasn’t shyness.

Chu Lenghu’s room was sparsely decorated, simple yet impeccably tidy, imbued with a subtle, fresh scent. Having rushed home previously, he hadn’t had a chance to observe it closely. Now, upon careful inspection, it was clear that Chu Lenghu was indeed a person whose personality and appearance were both remarkably “uncomplicated.”

As an “amateur psychologist,” Zhong Tian often found he could infer a person’s character from their living space.

He retrieved the digital tablet from his canvas satchel and connected it to Chu Lenghu’s computer.

After downloading the necessary drivers and software, Zhong Tian tested the pressure-sensitive pen. Once he confirmed it was working correctly, he handed the pen to Chu Lenghu.

“The feel of digital drawing is quite different from traditional paper,” Zhong Tian explained, making space for Chu Lenghu and taking a seat that had been prepared for him nearby. “So, take some time to get used to it first.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“This software has numerous functions, far too many to cover all at once,” Zhong Tian continued. “Once you’ve found your rhythm, I’ll teach you how to use the basic features. I’ll simply draw a full-color illustration shortly, explaining as I go; that will be the most intuitive way.”

This approach would allow him to impart both drawing knowledge and software functionality, killing two birds with one stone.

“Understood,” Chu Lenghu replied.

She then began to move the pen across the digital tablet.

“You can think of this digital tablet as your computer screen,” Zhong Tian instructed. “Wherever your pen touches, it corresponds to that exact spot on your monitor.”

Chu Lenghu nodded. After following Zhong Tian’s instructions and trying it out, she found she could draw lines quite well.

“The feel really is quite different,” Chu Lenghu remarked, sketching a few simple geometric shapes on the tablet. “It feels so hard to draw clean lines.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it with practice.”

“Mm.”

****

“Ruijin!”

Bai Ruijin, scrolling through her phone in her room, heard her mother’s call.

“What is it?” she called out, opening her bedroom door.

Her mother stood at the doorway of her room.

“Are you going out this afternoon?” her mother asked.

“No, I’m not,” she replied. “Qiaoqiao isn’t free.”

“Then how about you come shopping with me?” her mother suggested. “We can pick up some daily necessities and grab dinner out.”

“Hmm… what about Dad?” Bai Ruijin tilted her head. “Does he have work tonight?”

“Yes, so it’s just the two of us.”

“…Alright, let me change first then.”

****

“…So, the Multiply blend mode (TL Note: A digital art layer blending mode that darkens colors, often used for shadows and shading.) means that I can only draw within the confines of the layers beneath the Multiply layer, right?”

Confronted with Chu Lenghu’s understanding, Zhong Tian mused for a moment. “That’s about right.”

“Okay.”

Over the course of nearly four hours that afternoon, Zhong Tian drew and explained simultaneously, imparting a significant amount of knowledge to Chu Lenghu.

Chu Lenghu was exceptionally diligent, meticulously jotting down key points in her notebook.

‘She’s truly a model student,’ Zhong Tian mused.

He recalled how he had never taken notes when his own father lectured; he simply relied on his memory. The consequence was often forgetting crucial points mid-drawing, forcing him to rely solely on instinct to finish.

This invariably led to his father’s criticisms for not paying enough attention.

Zhong Tian pulled out his phone, sensing that it was time to wrap up the lesson and take his leave.

Just as he was about to put his phone away, a call came through.

It was Ren.

– “Hello?”

– “Hey, hey, hey! Free to hang out?”

– “Bored again? Need me to entertain you?”

– “Yeah, yeah! Wanna hit up the internet cafe and play some games!”

– “…You’re buying, and I’m there.”

– “Alright, alright! Hurry over, hurry over!”

– “Now?”

– “Yeah, we can just grab food out,” Li Jianren said. “I’m at Qianda now. We’ll eat and then head upstairs to start playing!”

– “…Fine.”

Although he felt a bit weary after an afternoon of drawing, Zhong Tian genuinely felt like playing a couple of rounds with Li Jianren.

‘It’ll be a good way to relax,’ he thought.

Zhong Tian ended the call and told Chu Lenghu, “That concludes today’s lesson. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Okay, Teacher. Please take care.”

As Zhong Tian and Chu Lenghu exited the room, they happened upon Chu Han emerging from the kitchen, carrying freshly prepared dishes.

“Teacher Kezhong, are you heading back already?”

“Mm,” Zhong Tian nodded.

He walked to the entryway to change into his own shoes.

“Uh… won’t you stay for dinner?”

“No, thank you. I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” he replied, standing firm after tying his shoes. He nodded to Chu Han in thanks. “Definitely next time, if the opportunity arises.”

“Ah… alright.”

Chu Han’s face registered a hint of disappointment as he watched Zhong Tian depart through the front door.

Chu Lenghu caught every nuance of her brother’s expression. She blinked, then turned to him. “Brother, you’re not… interested in Teacher, are you?”

At her words, Chu Han stiffened, his gaze turning to his sister with a hint of alarm.

“Is… is it that obvious?”

‘I actually guessed right,’ Chu Lenghu thought.

“Brother, I think… it might be best if you put those thoughts aside.”

“Ah… I know, I know…” Chu Han rubbed his nose. “There’s quite a significant age gap… and Teacher Kezhong is so beautiful and outstanding, he might not even notice me…”

‘That’s not the issue at all,’ Chu Lenghu thought.

****

Inside the Qianda Shopping Center.

Bai Ruijin and her mother descended the escalator, each carrying a bag of daily necessities, and headed straight into a restaurant on the first floor.

“Don’t you think we bought a bit too much?”

Bai Ruijin’s mother set down her large bag of daily necessities, exhaled, and remarked.

‘Of course we bought too much… it’s so heavy…’ Bai Ruijin silently grumbled, weakly. She settled onto the soft sofa, then gazed aimlessly out through the restaurant’s glass window, her thoughts drifting.

Every time she went grocery shopping with her mother, it was an ordeal.

Her eyes wandered among the pedestrians outside, gradually emptying her mind.

But then she saw someone—a young man.

The black-haired youth possessed refined features. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his physique was well-proportioned, neither fat nor thin. A pair of gold-rimmed, lensless glasses rested on his high nose bridge, lending him an air of gentle elegance.

Bai Ruijin instinctively raised a hand to cover her mouth.

‘I actually ran into him!’

The young man, Li Jianren, was looking down at his phone, occasionally glancing up, seemingly waiting for someone.

A sudden idea popped into Bai Ruijin’s mind: ‘What if… I went up to him now and asked for his contact information?’

But… he had only just rejected her friend request yesterday. Wouldn’t it be incredibly awkward, incredibly awkward, to approach him now, reveal her identity, and ask for his WeChat? And it seemed he already had a girlfriend! And besides! Her mother was sitting right there!

Bai Ruijin’s resolve instantly wavered.

Yet, this might be her only chance to speak to him in person all summer, and Bai Ruijin didn’t want to give up just like that.

‘So conflicted!’

‘What should I do, what should I do…’

Just as Bai Ruijin was still wrestling with her internal dilemma, a young girl entered her line of sight.

Her pupils contracted.

‘Zhong Tian…’