School grass band manager

  But under the same night sky, it's not just one person who has gone mad.

  "Master, young master hasn't come home yet tonight."

  A young maid walked into the presence of Nan Xueren, the highest authority in the Nan family and a leading figure in Qingtian politics, to report.

  "Let him be, he's probably still painting in his studio!"

  Mr. Nan didn't mind and continued reading his newspaper.

  "Yes."

  The maid retreated on her own initiative and when she passed by the door of the Nangfeng Pavilion, she looked at the tightly closed door with concern and shook her head.

  Young master rarely passes this point and doesn't go home, I don't know what he's doing now.

  The person being worried about was standing in front of a painting in the exhibition's private room.

  From the time Xiao Zhi left until now, he has been staring at this painting without taking a half step away.

  On the canvas, Xiao Zhi's back figure has a faint sense of alienation, her burgundy hair fluttering, like an elf who doesn't eat human fireworks.

  "Xiao Zhi, it's good this way." Nan Feng Yu said softly as he gazed at the painting.

  Yes, such results are already sufficient.

  From a young age, his father had strict demands on him, not because of love, but also for an important reason, which was to make him a good enough son, a son that Nam Hak-jin could be proud of. Even learning to paint was the same.

  So, since he was young, his role has been nothing more than a vase in the Nan family. How he wishes he could be like Qian Ye Ci, doing as he pleases, not caring what others think, like a gust of wind, able to refuse, resist, and be indifferent at will. But all of this is something he doesn't have the qualifications to possess. What he has to do is be the Nan family's good son, an excellent son.

  So he likes Xiao Zhi, loves her recklessly, because she is the other half he has always yearned for, just like the true soul deep in his heart.

  The night was very quiet. Quiet enough for him to hear his own slightly labored breathing.

  Today, she called him "槿".

  That's good enough.

  He looked at the painting, gazing at the faint figure in the distance, and slowly stretched out his hand.

  All I heard was "whoosh".

  That painting, which had won a Picasso Gold Prize, was torn in half by him.

  "Xiao Xi, from today on, I will no longer be afraid of your rejection."

  A thread of confident smile, surging up at the corner of Nan Fengyi's mouth.

  Spread out a new canvas, and the brush is freely smearing on it.

  Colors intertwined, vaguely visible a girl's smiling face, radiant as the summer sun, she sat on the swing, her burgundy hair still fluttering in the wind...

  Seeking gold medals, seeking collection, seeking likes, seeking comments, seeking red envelopes, seeking gifts, all kinds of seeking, whatever you want, just throw it over!