Cai Cai picked out several vases and fruits, found a piece of velvet cloth, and arranged them in the style of still life sketching.
“Go ahead and draw. The conditions here aren’t great, sorry you have to make do.” He said. “The joint exam sketch is three hours. You draw first, and I’ll come correct it after an hour.”
“Okay,” Fu Yuhan picked up the freshly sharpened pencil. “Thank you.”
Old Four was shooting some jewelry promotional photos today, all of which could be done in the studio’s built-in small photography studio. But this meant Fu Yuhan could only huddle in the rest room to draw, because the overhead lights couldn’t be turned on in the photography studio area.
The rest room was a genuine rest room with beds inside. They might have spent the night in the studio again last night, with unfolded thin blankets casually piled on several beds.
The windows weren’t open, so the air wasn’t very good.
Fu Yuhan didn’t mind. He sat in the empty space nearby drawing, and those beds didn’t affect him. But Wen Yu, who had followed him in, couldn’t stand it first. He frowned and walked over to open the window.
“So delicate.” Fu Yuhan’s pencil had already started moving, his gaze on the objects, but he was mocking Wen Yu.
“Can’t stand it?” Wen Yu raised an eyebrow and looked over.
Fu Yuhan nodded: “A bit.”
“Want to fight again?” Wen Yu sat on the window sill. “I’m ready anytime.”
“Sorry,” Fu Yuhan didn’t take his bait, “I don’t have time now.”
Wen Yu couldn’t help but curve his lips and smile.
Indeed, Fu Yuhan’s state was much different from when school started. He had to paint, study, and even earn money.
“Really decided on T University?”
“It’s a backup option.” Fu Yuhan said. “I might not be able to get in—last time I heard Bei Lin say that when they took the college entrance exam, they all chose several schools to take entrance exams for, then selected the best one from the schools they passed to fill in their applications.”
December each year was the time for the provincial art joint examination, followed by three months of “long marches” to various places.
Every art student had suffered through the torment of partnering up to squeeze onto trains to different cities for exams during the winter of senior year. There was no escape, because most of the better schools required separate entrance exams.
“Anyway, if I don’t go abroad… I should choose several schools in the capital.” Fu Yuhan added.
Yang Fan was someone who seemed carefree but had very clear goals. If he said he wanted to apply to T University, he would definitely go. Why Fu Yuhan wanted to choose several schools in the capital was self-evident.
A gust of wind blew through the window, lifting Wen Yu’s bangs. He inexplicably wanted to cause trouble and reached out to open the window wider.
The wind rushed in, blowing over an unsteady apple.
Fu Yuhan closed his eyes speechlessly, as if swallowing back the curse words about to escape his lips. He stood up to restore the apple to its original position and said irritably: “Can’t you close the window?”
“No.”
“Then won’t you go home?” Fu Yuhan asked sincerely. “Thank you for today, but I see you have nothing to do here. Why not go back?”
“Not going back,” Wen Yu said. “It’s rare to come here once. I’m planning to eat at Ye’s Restaurant tonight.”
Ye’s Restaurant was a small restaurant nearby, supposedly owned by someone surnamed Ye.
Their pickled fish and fried wontons were exceptional. On the way here, Fu Yuhan had heard Wen Yu mention it.
Fu Yuhan was helpless and had to sit back down: “Then don’t cause trouble.”
He couldn’t punch Wen Yu in the face, so if Wen Yu really wanted to open the window, there wasn’t much he could do.
Fortunately, the velvet cloth had weight and wouldn’t be blown away by the wind. Only that somewhat deformed apple would suffer.
“How is opening a window causing trouble?” Wen Yu said, closing the window halfway and turning his face toward the window.
Yang Fan.
Wen Yu pondered this name.
He actually couldn’t quite understand what was necessary about persisting in deep feelings destined to end fruitlessly. Admittedly, he liked Yang Fan, but that was just liking.
He had liked many people and many things. Most were just passing visitors, briefly appearing on his list of preferences before silently disappearing.
Wen Yu couldn’t understand Fu Yuhan’s feelings that surged like an undercurrent, turbulent yet silent.
But then again, precisely because he didn’t understand, had never possessed or experienced such feelings, he was interested in exploring Fu Yuhan as a person.
He also wanted Fu Yuhan to apply to T University.
But right now, Wen Yu wasn’t very happy.
–
Cai Cai wasn’t good at speaking and couldn’t teach well, but he was worthy of being a joint examination first place graduate. When correcting drawings, he was efficient and hit the nail on the head. With just a few strokes, the entire drawing already looked quite different.
Fu Yuhan had a sudden realization. Some doubts he had never quite understood suddenly became clear.
Drawing was work that required long-term practice. The time experienced couldn’t be ignored. He hadn’t studied systematically, but having drawn stroke by stroke, he understood immediately when pointed out.
The joint examination content was three hours of figure sketching, three hours of still life color painting, and a twenty-minute figure speed drawing test. Cai Cai roughly told him the direction for daily practice, and Fourth Brother also said he could come whenever he was free, and they could introduce work to him.
Fu Yuhan noted everything down.
He spent the entire afternoon at the studio, then a group of them went to Ye’s Restaurant at Wen Yu’s request to eat pickled fish and fried wontons before going their separate ways home.
Following the end of September came the National Day holiday that senior students didn’t deserve to enjoy. Though called a “long” holiday, they actually only had two and a half days off.
Fu Yuhan spent two of those days at Fourth Brother’s place—a day and a half painting, half a day photographing.
Fourth Brother found him another job, shooting product photos for a literary-style men’s clothing store’s new items.
This store needed images with a strong style, emphasizing the clothes themselves while downplaying the person. Fu Yuhan didn’t need to show his face much—mostly back views and side profiles showing half his face.
He was 182cm tall with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a slender build that matched the store’s clothing style well. After the first set of sample photos was sent over, they immediately confirmed they wanted to work with Fu Yuhan for an entire quarter.
Calculating one new release per week, that meant shooting 12 sets of clothes total. Fu Yuhan calculated the income and felt it was enough to get him through a difficult period.
Fourth Brother and the others also taught him painting for free, saving a large expense.
“Thanks? No, no, no, really not necessary.” Old Four had stayed up all night for work again, with dark circles under his eyes and exhaustion all over his face. He rubbed his face and pressed Fu Yuhan’s shoulder. “I was making amends to begin with. If you really want to thank someone, go thank Little Seven—I heard Yong Rong has been having a hard time lately.”
Fu Yuhan was slightly stunned: “How so?”
“I don’t know the specifics. Just a couple days ago when I went out drinking with friends, I heard from a friend who knows Yong Rong that he’s been having a rough time lately.” Old Four lit a cigarette for himself. “You don’t know?”
Fu Yuhan shook his head and imperceptibly stepped back half a step.
He didn’t like the smell of cigarettes.
“Wen Yu didn’t say.” He added, “We have monthly exams coming up, he seems a bit busy.”
“Monthly exams? Busy?” Old Four sounded like he’d heard a joke and snorted. “Stop kidding around. Does Little Seven’s brain need to review? He’s a study god… no, a database! The kind that stores all answers in his head. I’ve known him for several years, and even before major exams he’d still go out drinking with us.”
Fu Yuhan: “…Fourth Brother, Wen Yu is human too.”
“Plug him in and he could be a robot.” Old Four muttered. “Anyway, if you want to know about Yong Rong’s situation, ask him. You can only ask him. This guy is addicted to being a do-gooder. If you don’t ask, he’ll never say what he did—it was the same when he helped Little Six before.”
“Mm,” Fu Yuhan said, “I know.”
Wen Yu indeed wasn’t the type to actively seek credit, so much so that recently when Fu Yuhan got busy, he thought Yong Rong’s matter had no follow-up.
“By the way, about what you mentioned last time, I contacted someone for you.” Old Four took out a small piece of paper with an address and phone number from his pocket and handed it over. “An old teacher from Normal University’s Art Academy. I heard he has a good reputation, and most importantly, he hires models, which is what you need, right?”
“Yes, thank you, Fourth Brother.” Fu Yuhan took it.
Although several people here could tutor him, after painting for two weeks, Fu Yuhan realized he still needed to find a dedicated art teacher for classes.
A major reason was that the photography studio couldn’t hire live models for him to sketch from life. Practicing figure drawing could only rely on copying examples from books.
Copying and life drawing were two completely different experiences. The latter better trained observation skills and fundamentals. But finding models who could sit for three hours wasn’t something ordinary people knew where to hire without connections.
Life drawing models had requirements. Besides needing to sit still in position for long periods, it was best if they were older.
When people were young, they had full foreheads. The older they got, the more gaunt they became, with cheek flesh gradually sinking in, making facial bone and muscle structure distinct.
The easier models were to draw, the more suitable they were for student training—elderly were easier than young, men easier than women.
Old men were easiest to draw, young girls the hardest.
The city had many art teachers who would teach students at home or rent dedicated studios, with classes in three-hour units. Copying or life drawing were both acceptable, with teachers responsible for corrections and individual explanations.
Art students could come and go as they pleased, taking classes as needed was common, so there was no need to worry about progress. But teachers who hired models were rare—after all, hiring models wasn’t cheap. Old Four had gone to considerable trouble to find a suitable one for Fu Yuhan.
Fu Yuhan looked at the note and found this teacher’s class location wasn’t far from his home. Fourth Brother had obviously put thought into it, so he thanked him again.
“I said stop thanking me.” Old Four waved his hand. “If you need to come paint in the future, you can come again. Cai Cai is just idle anyway.”
“Where am I idle!” Cai Cai, who was editing photos, let out the roar of an overworked dog.
“If you’re not free, there’s still Bei Lin.”
“Damn, are we tool people?” Bei Lin cursed at him, then turned to Fu Yuhan. “Don’t mind us, we just routinely curse the boss. We don’t mean you’re unwelcome.”
“…I didn’t misunderstand.”
Having come for two weeks, Fu Yuhan could tell this group was very enthusiastic.
Although it might partly be due to Wen Yu’s influence, he really didn’t feel any rejection. A lesson with the teacher cost nearly a hundred yuan, so he definitely couldn’t go there every few days. Fu Yuhan would still need to come here.
Besides, he still had to work.
“Alright, go change clothes first.” Old Four finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and cleared his throat. “Go change clothes. Let’s try to finish this batch of photos today. San Mao, have you cleaned up the dressing room—”
“San Mao died from overwork!” came San Mao’s roar from inside.
–
When he came out of Fourth Brother’s place again, the sun had already moved west.
Speeding vehicles increased, pedestrians looked hurried, and the streets became crowded. Fu Yuhan had long since become familiar with the route from the studio to the station, so Fourth Brother didn’t politely arrange for someone to drive him.
Fu Yuhan seemed to remember the trajectory of the sunset that day.
Because he received a phone call on the way.
A long-awaited call from Fu Xuecheng.
He was stunned for a few seconds before answering: “Hello?”
“Xiao Han?” The background on the other end was very quiet. Fu Yuhan guessed he might be in the office or at home. Fu Xuecheng paused for a moment and asked, “Are you outside?”
“Mm.” Fu Yuhan asked softly, “Is something wrong?”
“I just talked to He… your mother on the phone.” Fu Xuecheng said. “I routinely called to transfer this month’s money to her, but she told me you haven’t taken money from home for over half a month? Do you have a source of income now?”
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
