Chapter 20 My Eyes Aren’t That Beautiful

Chapter 20 My Eyes Aren’t That Good-Looking

"This painting is excellent. Try to get permission from your friend; I have an authorization template if you need it. This piece can be submitted for the exhibition."

"Huh? Wait—Teacher Liang, what did you say?"

Jiang Ruotang wondered if his ears were malfunctioning or if there was still water in his brain.

"If you can get your friend’s permission, submit this painting for the exhibition," Teacher Liang repeated, looking at him. "You’re still young—how are you going deaf already?"

"But… but didn’t you just say my technique has regressed?"

"Your skills *have* regressed, but you have natural talent. Even with the regression, you’re still above your peers' level."

Teacher Liang’s teasing tone made Jiang Ruotang’s ears burn.

This was a huge opportunity—one he'd never imagined back when he was studying in the studio.

But why? In his past life, he hadn’t gotten this chance, yet now, with worse technique, Teacher Liang was recommending him for the competition?

"Teacher Liang… aside from my technique being rusty, how is this painting different compared to my past work?" Jiang Ruotang asked curiously.

"Previously, you focused on precision—the accuracy of lines, contours, and light and shadow. This painting, while less precise, is freer and more expressive. The whole painting is full of layered emotion, letting viewers feel what's in your heart."

This was something even many established artists struggled to achieve.

Of course, Teacher Liang didn’t say that part out loud.

Hearing Teacher Liang’s approval, Jiang Ruotang couldn’t contain the joy welling up inside him.

But soon, his excitement faded just as fast.

Because he remembered his past life—when he’d handed Bai Yingchuan that sketchbook filled with drawings of him, he saw Bai Yingchuan’s smile turn cold. Amid everyone’s praise, Bai Yingchuan had given a perfunctory nod, then dragged Jiang Ruotang into a secluded corner after class.

He’d said that if Jiang Ruotang kept staring at him, following him, and sketching him like some creepy stalker, he’d expose Jiang Ruotang’s "weird thoughts" to the world—letting everyone see what the Great Director’s son was really fantasizing about.

In that cramped space, Jiang Ruotang had stared blankly into Bai Yingchuan’s eyes, shedding their usual gentleness, now brimming with undisguised revulsion.

Young Jiang Ruotang couldn't understand—why sketching him was so unforgivable in Bai Yingchuan’s eyes?

Years later, lying sick in bed late at night, Jiang Ruotang finally understood.

It was the *emotion*—the emotions in his sketches that Bai Yingchuan had loathed.

Bai Yingchuan had craved freedom, resented being shackled by fans. He'd dealt with stalkers, paparazzi, and disgusting photoshopped pictures circulating online. Jiang Ruotang’s meticulous sketches, capturing every detail of him on paper, infused with fervent adoration—when sensitive Bai Yingchuan flipped through that sketchbook and sensed those emotions, it felt like blatant harassment.

Lin Lu, who’d always been close to Bai Yingchuan, probably knew exactly what would trigger him. That’s why he’d deliberately suggested Jiang Ruotang gift the sketchbook as a "welcome present," planting seeds of dislike in Bai Yingchuan’s heart early on. Over time, those seeds had taken root, grown, and overshadowed everything—such a clever scheme.

"Jiang Ruotang, what's on your mind?" Teacher Liang’s voice pulled him back from the memories.

"I think I won't submit this painting after all."

Jiang Ruotang clenched his fists slowly.

Teacher Liang's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because I painted this without permission."

*If Lu Guifan sees this painting, what if he hates me like Bai Yingchuan?*

After all, they hardly knew each other now. If he suddenly approached Lu Guifan, telling him I'd painted him—what would he think?

"Trust, longing, affection—these don't require the other person’s consent to exist—they’re natural. Your painting is a language. If he connects with it, then you share a connection. Since you think so highly of him, I believe he’ll understand your language," Teacher Liang said.

Despite still feeling uneasy, Jiang Ruotang suddenly felt a strong urge to show this painting to Lu Guifan.

"I understand, Teacher."

"Make your decision quickly. If you don’t submit it by tomorrow, you'll miss the deadline."

"Wait, it’s that urgent?"

"Isn’t that good? Less time for you to overthink."

Teacher Liang’s smile seemed to see right through him.

Leaving the studio, Jiang Ruotang sat in the car on his way home, Teacher Liang's words echoing in his mind.

Since his rebirth, he’d barely spoken to Lu Guifan. Wouldn’t this be really weird?

But deep down, Jiang Ruotang also believed that whether twenty-eight or eighteen, Lu Guifan would still be Lu Guifan.

He sent a message: [*Are you there?*]

As soon as he sent it, Jiang Ruotang covered his face with his hands.

"Are you there?"—it sounded like a long-lost classmate about to ask for a loan.

But Lu Guifan replied instantly: [*I’ll probably be around for the next few decades.*]

Reading that, Jiang Ruotang nearly laughed aloud.

Lu Guifan didn't usually browse memes or trendy phrases online—this was just his unfiltered response.

Jiang Ruotang: [*Where are you now? Can I come find you? There’s something I need your permission for.*]

At this hour, evening self-study should’ve ended, and Lu Guifan was likely walking home from school.

Lu Guifan: [*Meet me at the convenience store on Minghu Road.*]

Jiang Ruotang told Xiao Gao to drive there immediately. When the car stopped outside the store, Jiang Ruotang peered through the glass wall and saw Lu Guifan—wearing a store uniform—sitting behind the counter, reading a book.

His head was bowed, and thank goodness his nose was tall and straight enough to support those heavy black-framed glasses.

As Jiang Ruotang entered, a mechanical "Welcome" chimed from the door.

Lu Guifan glanced up at him, expression neutral.

"You’re here."

"Class Monitor? You work here?"

"Yeah."

"Does the school allow that?" Jiang Ruotang knew Lu Guifan’s family wasn’t well-off, and with a leech-like uncle, it made sense he’d take a part-time job.

"Are you reporting me?" Lu Guifan asked flatly.

"Of course not! I’m just worried since it’s so close to school. The competition for top three in your grade is fierce—what if someone reports you and it affects your scholarship?"

Lu Guifan looked down with a faint smile.

"Just watching the place for a neighbor. He'll be back by eleven."

"Oh." Jiang Ruotang relaxed.

"What's up?" As he spoke, Lu Guifan pulled over a chair for Jiang Ruotang to sit.

This was the first time since returning to this life that Jiang Ruotang had sat side by side with Lu Guifan like this.

"I was at the studio tonight. My teacher really liked what I did today and wanted to submit it for a competition. But I painted a portrait of a classmate, so I needed his/her permission."

After saying this, Jiang Ruotang gripped the edges of the chair. He had mentally prepared himself not to be nervous, but now his nerves came rushing back.

"You painted Bai Yingchuan again? Want me to talk to him for you?" Lu Guifan asked.

Maybe it was his imagination, but his voice seemed colder than before.

"No."

"If it's Lin Lu, you could probably ask him yourself. No need to involve me."

"It's not him either." As he spoke, Jiang Ruotang took the painting tube off his back, pulled out the painting inside, and handed it to Lu Guifan.

"You want me to look at it? I'm no art expert," Lu Guifan said.

"Just take a look first." Jiang Ruotang took a deep breath.

Funny how he could talk confidently in front of great directors and producers, but the timidity he felt around Lu Guifan was like some primal instinct.

Nervous around the one you like—that was probably what it meant.

Lu Guifan slowly unrolled the painting, handling it carefully, likely because Jiang Ruotang had mentioned it might be entered into a competition.

His gaze lingered on the image for a long time.

The late-night convenience store stood empty, so quiet you could only hear the hum of the refrigerator and Jiang Ruotang’s heartbeat.

After a long pause, Lu Guifan finally spoke. "You... who is this? An actor or a movie scene?"

Jiang Ruotang's jaw dropped. Was Teacher Liang right? Had he gotten so rusty that the likeness was completely off, making Lu Guifan unable to recognize who it was?

When Jiang didn't answer for a while, Lu Guifan turned to look at him.

"This is you... without glasses."

"What?" Lu Guifan automatically pushed up his glasses. "I’ve never taken them off in front of you. How do you know what I look like without them?"

Jiang Ruotang didn’t answer. I don't just know what you look like without glasses, but I also know what you’ll look like ten years from now.

"So this is your imagination, not me. Especially the eyes—mine aren’t this nice."

"We painters know how to capture likenesses. I saw your eyes when you looked down. If you don’t believe me, take off your glasses and I’ll take a picture."

"My ID photo is without glasses. Want to see? It doesn’t look like this painting."

"Class monitor... Zhao Zhangfeng’s certification photo looks like a mugshot. Just take off your glasses, and I’ll take a close-up of your eyes!"

Lu Guifan sighed and removed his thick glasses, placing them on the table.

When he lifted his eyelids, his dark lashes rose, and Jiang Ruotang’s breath hitched.

Jiang Ruotang raised his phone and carefully took a picture of Lu Guifan’s eyes.

At this time, his myopia was severe, and to save money, he hadn’t bought thin lenses. Years had passed, and he still hadn't bothered to replace them.