Chapter 14: I’m Also In The Arts

The school wasn’t exactly big, but to say it was small would be a lie too.

The real issue was that everyone was too familiar with the school grounds— so familiar they could draw a map of it with their eyes closed.

Which is why, in the eyes of Ye Tingzhu and the others, Xia Hua was already a turtle in a jar—trapped, with nowhere to run.

All they had to do was wait for class to end…

And they’d catch her alive and hand her over to the homeroom teacher, Zhou Qing, just to enjoy the sight of her getting punished.

Xia Hua wandered aimlessly through campus like a restless ghost.

From time to time, she frowned to herself and muttered,

“So… should I go hide outside of school for a bit? No, no way…”

She immediately rejected the thought.

Not attending English class—

That was a matter of pride.

But if she ran off completely from school,

That would cross a very different kind of line.

“Cutting class… No, it’s not cutting class,” she tried to convince herself. “It’s my form of resistance. I’m choosing not to attend Zhou Qing’s class.

But that doesn’t mean I hate learning.

I’m not one of those troublemakers who skip school all the time.”

“…Even if, in Zhou Qing’s eyes, my behavior right now probably makes me no different from one.”

“As long as I know the truth—”

“As long as I know I’m not a troublemaker, then that’s enough.”

Xia Hua let out a long sigh.

She had been given a second chance at life.

Everything had started over.

But she had no interest in becoming someone who looked down on everything and everyone.

She just wanted to see—

If she could turn things around,

What would a normal high school life be like?

Would it really be as beautiful as she had imagined?

Before, she hadn’t had the choice.

But now— now she wanted to experience what it meant to live like a normal teenager.

Not a high school life that haunted her like a nightmare every time she thought back on it.

Unknowingly, she had wandered to the cafeteria building.

This was the only refuge she could find.

If she loitered outside, a patrolling teacher would definitely catch and question her.

As soon as she stepped through the cafeteria doors, Xia Hua lifted her nose and sniffed the air with a soft, “(╯▽╰ ) Smells so good~~”

The cafeteria always smelled like grilled sausages, and the savory aroma of tofu and meat soup lingered perpetually in the air.

She stood there hesitating for a long time but didn’t buy anything to satisfy her cravings.

She told herself it was all for the sake of slimming down.

Of course, she’d never admit the real reason was that a single 3.5 yuan sausage cost as much as her entire breakfast.

Until her finances improved, Xia Hua had sworn off all indulgent behavior.

No way was she going to end up broke and hungry.

That money was the seed fund for her future business.

She couldn’t touch it—no matter what.

Just then— ding-dong! Her phone buzzed as she absentmindedly stared up at the cafeteria’s ceiling fan.

It was a message from Lin An, asking when she’d be free.

“In the cafeteria. Free all morning,” she replied.

The last two periods were English, and Xia Hua made it clear: she had plenty of time now.

“Alright, wait for me,” Lin An messaged back.

Not long after, Lin An showed up at the cafeteria—with another guy in tow.

That guy looked kind of familiar, but Xia Hua couldn’t quite place him.

“You’ve really got a lot of free time, huh?” Xia Hua gave Lin An a look and grinned.

“Every time I run into you, it’s either gym class or computer class. What is it now—skipping again?”

“No, not skipping,” Lin An waved his hand. “Our subject teacher had something to do, so the period was changed to self-study.

When I messaged you, I thought you’d reply after class!”

The unspoken question was: What about you?

Xia Hua didn’t want to answer. Instead, she looked at the other boy.

“I’m Ji Fan. ‘Ji’ as in ‘season,’ ‘Fan’ as in ‘splendor’ like a season of brilliance.” He smiled. “I’m a student in the art specialty program.

You know how it is— either we’re ridiculously busy, or we’ve got so much free time we don’t know what to do with ourselves.”

So he was an art-track student. That made sense.

Just like Ji Fan said— some art-track students were buried in work, while others had all the time in the world.

It all depended on their skill level and how well they managed their academic coursework.

Those who only started learning art, music, or sports in high school or even switched to a specialty track in their second year— were usually swamped.

Ji Fan, however, clearly wasn’t one of them.

Xia Hua was starting to remember.

They had briefly collaborated on something once through Lin An’s introduction.

Unfortunately, Ji Fan’s area of expertise didn’t really match Xia Hua’s.

He specialized in drawing anime-style characters—

To put it simply, he was an illustrator, and his art leaned heavily toward the “Miracle Nikki” aesthetic.

That kind of style wasn’t very practical for ceramic product design.

Last she heard, he had even applied for a job at Miracle Nikki.

He’d even designed quite a few hit fashion pieces.

In short—everyone’s got dreams, and everyone shines in their own way.

Sometimes, Xia Hua genuinely envied Ji Fan.

He could casually pick up freelance gigs whenever he wanted.

Back in high school, he was already doing side jobs with flair—

How could she not be jealous?

“Lin An said you needed a graphics tablet?” Ji Fan asked seriously.

“Yeah, do you have one?”

“I’ve got an older one I don’t use anymore,” Ji Fan said after a moment’s thought.

“I wouldn’t mind giving it to Lin An, but he said he was planning to pass it along to someone else, so…”

“So what?” Xia Hua spread her hands, clearly amused.

“So I just wanted to see if you’d save me the trouble of giving it away,” Lin An said with a grin.

“This tablet may be secondhand,” Ji Fan said, pulling a graphics tablet and a laptop out of his backpack, “but I’ve used it for a long time.

I don’t want it ending up in the hands of someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

Xia Hua took a look—it was from the Intuos series, with 1024 levels of pressure sensitivity.

That made it a mid-range tablet.

This model was typically used for animation, comics, and illustration.

Its market price was usually over 2,000 yuan, and even secondhand units still went for 700–800 minimum.

Of course, it couldn’t compare to the professional-grade tablet Xia Hua had once used.

But right now, this was already more than good enough for her.

“I’ve only used this tablet for about a year. It’s still in great condition,” Ji Fan added.

“That’s why I want to know what exactly are you planning to do with it?

Is that okay?”

He emphasized again that the tablet was relatively new, just over a year old.

And he was clearly wondering:

Once Xia Hua got her hands on it, would she end up ruining it?

It wasn’t really about the money.

He just didn’t want to see something he valued go to waste.

There wasn’t anything more to say.

Xia Hua booted up the laptop, plugged in the tablet, and began launching drawing and image-editing software with such fluid, practiced ease that it left the two boys staring.

“Ji Fan, still into your usual anime art style, I see?”

Xia Hua glanced at a few of the illustrations on his desktop and commented with a light tone—

but the implication made it all the more suspicious.

Not many people actually knew Ji Fan was into anime-style art.

“You ever seen a snowy landscape in Jiangnan?” Xia Hua asked suddenly.

“What?”

“I’m an artist too,” she said casually, like she was talking to one of her old clients.

“But I’m not like Ji Fan. My style leans more toward fine art. I do landscapes, lakes, mountains, ancient styles, modern, trendy… I’ve dabbled in all of them.”

It was the kind of pitch she used to give to clients all the time:

“Whatever ceramic style you’re looking for, I’ll do my best to meet your expectations~”

If Xia Hua could satisfy most of her clients—

those notoriously demanding “Party A” types—

Then it was fair to say her artistic skills weren’t lacking.

After all, who hasn’t been shaped by the trials of working with difficult clients?

To Ji Fan, though, she came off as arrogant— wildly overconfident.

Did she really just claim her style had “artistic depth”?

How many pieces has she even done?!