?Mobile reading Honestly, Lin Caivui has encountered this exact situation countless times since arriving at Pingda University—she's long since developed immunity to it, handling each challenge with ease. However, this time was different. Qin Feng initially made a concerted effort to present himself as a refined gentleman, and he truly succeeded—warm, composed, always smiling gently, and speaking with great courtesy. Yet, when Lin, the beautiful woman, thought her new classmate was genuinely polished, he suddenly took a complete 180-degree turn. Especially when he said the phrase "get to know you better," his expression was utterly awkward, evoking an unmistakable sense of discomfort. Lin remained fully composed, her face stern: "Classmate, your joke isn't even remotely funny!" After saying this, she turned away and no longer looked at him—clearly adding Qin, the young noble, to her blacklist. If it weren’t for the fact that he had first appeared in the classroom, just based on that statement and his overly dramatic expression, he would have been knocked senseless with a single punch. Lin Caiwei absolutely has that kind of capability—there have been several muscular men who believed they could overpower beautiful women, including top-tier taekwondo athletes—none of whom have escaped being easily defeated by her. Since then, no one dares to boast about their strength in her presence. Chen Yue, standing at the podium, looked deeply disappointed. They had clearly sparked a connection, yet why hadn’t Caiwei attacked him? It was essential to seize the opportunity and speak with this beautiful student, reveal Qin Feng’s numerous shortcomings, and then thoroughly beat him up. Qin, the young noble, didn’t retreat at all despite the woman’s cool demeanor. He continued to smile warmly and asked, “Miss, which faction are you from?” In the background, Caiwei had already clenched her fists tightly, thinking to herself: as long as you say one more meaningless thing, I’ll knock you down and leave you with a trail of blossoming flowers. By common sense, if she hadn't responded, the other person would have continued speaking—yet instead, Qin Dashi promptly closed his mouth and smoothed out his slightly humble expression, sitting up straight and composed. This left Lin Beauty feeling as though she had punched a pillow—rather unsatisfying. The spark had simply fizzled out. Chen Yue suddenly had an idea: you're known as a top-tier talent, fluent in over ten foreign languages—yet here we are, in the Department of Fine Arts at a College of Arts. I haven't seen any records indicating that you can draw. Why not give you a little challenge? With these thoughts in mind, a gentle smile appeared on her face. She clasped her hands together, drew everyone’s attention to herself, and then said, “Qin Feng, I’m sure your painting skills are excellent. Why not demonstrate the techniques you’ve learned abroad for us?” Qin Dashi shook his head in exasperation, thinking: Besides drawing maps on bed sheets when he was a kid, he’d only ever drawn actual maps later on. Was he going to have to prepare a whole bed of white sheets, recall his childhood memories, and try to produce something truly impressive? Honestly, with so many beautiful girls around him, nothing precious would ever be wasted—no matter how many white sheets he piled up, he doubted he’d manage to create even a single masterpiece. He glanced at Chen Yue and scoffed, "I can't draw!" Could it really be just a little chicken-dusting-the-ground scene? For several days prior, he had been watching Stephen Chow’s classic films, and the masterpiece within the masterpiece, *Tang Bohu Points to Autumn Fragrance*, had been viewed by him multiple times. He was confident that, even if he couldn’t fully capture the grandeur of such a legendary piece, he could still convey a touch of its essence—only fearing that the people present might not appreciate it. What about art students? Being able to draw doesn’t mean they know how to appreciate. Take Van Gogh, for instance—surrounded by people who could draw, what could he do? Without recognition from anyone, he only gained fame decades after his death. Therefore, after careful thought, he decided to remain composed. The chicken-dusting-the-ground scene was simply too flamboyant. While he was pondering, someone had already prepared a drawing board and sketch paper for him. Qin, the young noble, immediately had a plan. He stood up, smiled warmly and said, “Since everyone is willing to watch, I’ll have to step in and show a little of my skill. If the result isn’t up to par, I kindly ask for your indulgence.” Under Chen Yue's somewhat casual gaze, he walked to the podium, placed the drawing board against the lower edge of the blackboard, and picked up a pencil at random, drawing as he spoke: "On the way here, the head of instruction introduced me to many scenic spots. So, I'll simply sketch down the beautiful things I've seen on this paper!" What he drew was, strictly speaking, a map—though it omitted elevation data and incorporated flowers and trees as decorative elements. Thanks to his remarkable memory and skill in map-making, he quickly rendered the entire route from the school gate, through the administrative building, to the teaching building, onto the paper. Strictly speaking, however, his drawing was not very good. But everyone was astonished. First, it was a very novel approach, clearly distinct from conventional sketching techniques. Second, the subjects depicted were so familiar that every stroke Qin Feng added evoked a sense of recognition, instantly resonating with the audience. Maps and artistic paintings are fundamentally unrelated fields, and what people experienced was primarily one of surprise. Chen Yue herself, who did not graduate in the arts, was no exception—yet this did not prevent her from becoming the class counselor. As the saying goes, "those near the red become red," and with her active engagement in acquiring specialized knowledge, though she didn't paint herself, her appreciation had significantly improved. Since no one had ever seen this particular style before, and Qin Feng had come to the class with a strong reputation as a top international student, known for his artistic innovation—outshining his domestic peers—there was no doubt. All that remained were admiration and envy. Qin Dashi set down his pen, glanced at his composition, and had不止一次, during the drawing process, caught the expressions of his classmates with a side glance. Since he had successfully calmed everyone, why be polite? He spoke with outward humility but with clear confidence: "This is a modest effort—please, Professor Chen, don't mind if I ask for your generous feedback and guidance on its shortcomings!" This immediately caught Chen Yue off guard. When she once doubted Qin Feng wasn't a trained professional, Qin Feng had harbored the same doubt about her. Neither of them understood the other—so why make things difficult for one another?