Chapter 58 Jiang Ruotang: Squeeze Lin Chengdong Dry!

Chapter 58 Jiang Ruotang: Draining Lin Chengdong Dry!

Upon receiving such a vague and out-of-context message, Lu Guifan’s first reaction wasn’t to assume Jiang Ruotang was fooling around or playing games. Instead, he thought Jiang must have come up with another new idea, just like his previous interest in the Xiaolan app.

Moreover, Lu Guifan trusted Jiang Ruotang’s judgment—he wouldn’t expose any personal information in the video.

[Okay.]

With just this one-word reply, Jiang Ruotang excitedly searched through his phone for the saved clips, carefully selected one with good lighting where Lu Guifan didn’t mention their names too much, had it lightly edited, then registered an account and uploaded it.

His original intention was simply to test Xiaolan’s features, such as upload speed and video categorization. At this point, there were no algorithmic recommendations, and it was a brand-new account, so Jiang Ruotang held no expectations for clicks or popularity.

He uploaded it after class in the afternoon, using the username "Master, I’ll Be Good." By ten that night, when he returned home from the studio and casually opened Xiaolan, he discovered his video had ranked third in the new creators' section, with over 1,200 clicks.

Jiang Ruotang was a little surprised—was it really just because of such an ordinary lecture video?

The background was just a small desk at home and a piece of draft paper.

If Lu Guifan had appeared on camera, the clicks would have made sense. But the problem was, Lu Guifan wasn’t even in the frame—only his left hand pressing against the paper, his right hand holding a pen, and his voice. Compared to other tutorial videos, this one was remarkably casual…

Were viewers really this eager to learn?

Jiang Ruotang clicked on the comments below and nearly choked.

[Wow, this teacher’s voice is so nice! It sounds cold at first, but there’s actually so much patience and gentleness in it~ Heart melting!]

[Did no one notice how long and pretty the teacher’s fingers are?]

[Great voice, beautiful handwriting—why can’t we see his face?!]

[Total "Academic God tutoring a struggling student" vibes!]

[Why is this so sweet? I can't!]

[When the student on the other end didn’t understand, the teacher sighed softly and switched to a different approach—still so gentle!]

[So doting! Master, I want to be your disciple too!]

……

Reading these comments, Jiang Ruotang’s ears inexplicably turned red.

So it wasn’t his imagination—Lu Guifan really had been gentle and patient while tutoring him? Was it that obvious to everyone else?

Meanwhile, the netizens’ comments had already veered off into wild territory, spinning an entire "Academic God and Struggling Student Love Story" out of thin air.

The most-liked comments were especially… suggestive.

Things like, "His fingers can do more than just hold a pen," or "First time I’ve ever listened to a problem explanation and felt like my ears were getting pregnant." The top-liked comment was simply, "On my knees begging Master to show his face."

Jiang Ruotang scoffed. If they actually saw his face, would they even pay attention to the lecture?

So shallow!

What Jiang Ruotang didn’t know, however, was that when Lu Guifan returned home, he opened Xiaolan on his new laptop and searched for "Di Jun." All sorts of content popped up—introductions to *Shan Hai Jing*, clips from offline TV dramas—but none of it was what he wanted.

After a moment of thought, Lu Guifan re-sorted the results by likes and finally found Cai Ji’s work.

On the computer screen, Di Jun’s silver feathers fluttered as he glanced back from a high vantage point—his expression truly identical to Jiang Ruotang’s.

Jiang Ruotang had once said his obsession with Bai Yingchuan was because Jiang Huaiyuan’s cinematography was so artistic.

At the time, Lu Guifan couldn’t understand how someone could develop such intense fascination over something as abstract as "atmosphere" or "aesthetic beauty."

But now, as Lu Guifan stared at Di Jun’s lightly lowered eyelids on the screen, his heart tightened painfully, blood rushing wildly through his body—was this feeling also because Cai Ji’s modeling was just too beautiful?

Since Jiang Ruotang still needed to prepare for the Central Academy of Fine Arts’ entrance exam, he hadn’t slacked off on art studio classes. Teacher Liang, a graduate of the academy himself, was deeply familiar with their aesthetic standards and exam patterns, so Jiang Ruotang didn’t need to travel all the way to the capital for prep courses. Under Teacher Liang’s personal guidance, his technical skills improved rapidly.

Tonight’s theme was watercolor still life—a vase of blooming roses, with green grapes and red apples beneath it.

Teacher Liang stood behind Jiang Ruotang for a long time, observing. When the session ended, he said softly, "If this were a color exam, you’d score around 95."

"Really?" Jiang Ruotang asked happily.

Teacher Liang, as always, clasped his hands behind his back. "No."

Realizing Teacher Liang was teasing him, Jiang Ruotang laughed.

A senior classmate leaned over to glance at Jiang Ruotang’s work and froze for a long moment before finally saying, "No wonder you were selected for Fu Chunshi’s exhibition…"

"Huh?"

The senior said sincerely, "Looking at your roses… suddenly made me miss my boyfriend. Especially the first day he confessed to me… that feeling of my heart racing."

Jiang Ruotang was so flustered by the praise he couldn’t lift his head, his neck and ears turning red.

The senior’s intuition was scarily accurate—she’d immediately guessed Jiang Ruotang had someone he liked.

"If I were you, I’d give this painting to them. Even if you don’t dare confess, it could be a way to feel things out."

Hearing this, Jiang Ruotang couldn’t help but feel tempted.

He’d painted Lu Guifan for a competition, and the other hadn’t minded.

What if he gave him this painting of roses? And it wasn’t just roses—there were fruits and a tablecloth too.

He could just say it was still-life practice, and Teacher Liang happened to have roses that day.

After class, Jiang Ruotang took the painting straight to Lu Guifan’s place.

The moment he stepped inside, Lu Guifan’s parents greeted him warmly, both heading to the kitchen to make him a midnight snack, making Jiang Ruotang almost embarrassed.

Lu Guifan had been in his room watching Cai Ji’s *Shan Hai Jing* video but immediately closed the Di Jun clip upon hearing Jiang Ruotang’s bright laughter.

He opened his bedroom door wearing a light brown sweater and fleece joggers—an odd combination, but Lu Guifan’s figure was so good, the casual style made Jiang Ruotang’s heart soften.

"Listen, my teacher praised my still-life today! He said if this were the Central Academy of Fine Arts’ entrance exam, I’d score 95! Want to see my painting?"

Jiang Ruotang’s eyes shone brightly—so happy from the teacher’s praise, like a kindergarten kid who’d just gotten a gold sticker.

"Sure, let me see this 95-point watercolor." Lu Guifan didn’t even realize how gentle his voice had become, the corners of his lips lifting.

Jiang Ruotang pulled out a sealed protective sleeve containing the painting and placed it on Lu Guifan’s desk.

The vivid, radiant roses seemed to send a tangible energy through the paper, dragging out some deeply buried impulse with irresistible force. His study had always been filled only with math and science, theory and logic—yet now, romance overflowed, as if wildflowers were blooming in a desert.

Lu Guifan had never known a painting could have such power.

"Your teacher was probably being modest with that 95."

"Huh? Monitor, are you praising me?" Jiang Ruotang leaned on the corner of the desk, smiling as he looked at him.

"Mm." Lu Guifan nodded, then gently patted Jiang Ruotang's head. "Getting praised by the teacher, do you feel more confident about the school's art exam now?"

"Sigh, the art exam takes up so much time from regular classes. If I really go for it, what about my academics—will you save me?" Jiang Ruotang asked.

"Haven’t I been trying to tutor you all along?"

"True, you *are* the star tutor—here, this painting’s for you! Consider it my tuition fee. When I become a renowned artist someday, it’ll be worth a fortune!"

Lu Guifan paused, then said softly, "I’ll treasure it, future master artist."

Before long, Mrs. Lu came in with a steaming bowl of pork and preserved egg wontons.

Even Lu Guifan himself never ate in his bedroom—he disliked the lingering smell of food where he slept and studied.

But at some point, Jiang Ruotang had gained this privilege.

He drank cola, ate chocolate biscuits, chips, even hot strips here, and Lu Guifan only felt a strangely homey feeling from it.

"Auntie, this smells amazing! Maybe I should eat outside—I don’t want Monitor to go to bed hungry from the smell!"

Lu Guifan replied calmly, "It’s fine. Just eat here."

"You’re the best, Monitor."

Lu’s mother left, closing the door behind her and turning down the TV volume outside.

Jiang Ruotang puffed his cheeks, blowing on the wontons, while Lu Guifan rested his chin on his hand, watching him.

"Ruotang, during English class this afternoon, you seemed distracted. Was that also about whether to take the art exam?"

This was the first time Jiang Ruotang had heard eighteen-year-old Lu Guifan call him "Ruotang." His heart melted, as if filled with warm steam.

"Oh, it’s just that I disagreed with a family elder of mine, but I’m sure I’m right. I just don’t know how to convince him." Jiang Ruotang glanced at Lu Guifan. "It’s not about studying—do you mind listening?"

"Mm."

Jiang Ruotang explained that he strongly believed in Xiaotian Guo and wanted the elder to invest, but the other thought it was a waste of money—too risky with uncertain profits.

And that elder was Zheng Huasheng.

Lu Guifan rested his chin on his hand, listening patiently as Jiang Ruotang spoke, nodding occasionally before summarizing, "What you value is Xiaotian Guo’s user base—their loyalty to the site. And the content creators have their own fans. But your elder’s concern is how to monetize these users. Having traffic alone doesn’t guarantee revenue."

Jiang Ruotang nodded. "Yeah, licensing anime costs money, and we don’t even know if users will pay for it when they’re used to pirated content..."

Lu Guifan replied unhurriedly, "Aren’t *Kirin Video* and *Cloud Maple* already promoting licensed content? They’re backed by big money. They’ll be the ones to cultivate users’ awareness of paid streaming—Xiaotian Guo’s owner won’t need to worry about that. They can just ride the wave of those two platforms’ marketing efforts."

Jiang Ruotang’s eyes lit up. Right—those two video giants were backed by major investors. Within three years, young netizens would gradually adopt licensed content habits—supporting their favorite creators, avoiding scam ads in pirated versions, and enjoying interactive features like live comments.

Mr. Zheng’s worries about users’ willingness to pay could be addressed with this reasoning.

"And what might truly solidify paid streaming habits is this." Lu Guifan waved his phone. "Smartphones are getting smarter. Many functions and perks might be hard for illegal streamers to replicate."

"Oh, you’re right!" Jiang Ruotang suddenly realized Lu Guifan’s thinking was ahead of its time.

"Since Xiaotian Guo focuses on anime and manga, its user base will differ from those two major platforms. Early on, it should find its own space rather than directly competing." Lu Guifan added, "And I’d guess... anime licensing is cheaper than TV dramas or movies, right?"

"Monitor, you don’t even watch anime—how do you know this?"

(Of course, it was because of Cai Ji’s Di Jun videos on Xiaotian Guo. But Lu Guifan wouldn’t say that.)

"The remaining key issue is funding. Your elder must be sensitive to cost and profit data, right?"

Jiang Ruotang nodded eagerly. "How’d you know?"

"Your elder must be struggling with funding. Buying Xiaotian Guo now probably isn’t too expensive, but expanding the licensed library, site operations, and user upgrades all require capital. I doubt he minds experimentation, but without solutions to these problems—and without you offering concrete plans—he won’t agree. You need strong, capable partners. Maybe even investors."

Jiang Ruotang propped his chin up, staring at Lu Guifan. "Monitor..."

"Mm?"

"Turns out you’re not just book-smart."

"Never eaten pork, but haven’t I seen pigs run?"

"When you’re famous someday, you could even host online lectures on Xiaotian Guo—millions of scholars tuning in live..."

"That many people would take online classes?" Lu Guifan thought Jiang Ruotang was daydreaming.

"Because you’re handsome. No matter how much humanity evolves, we’re shallow creatures—we can’t resist a guy like you."

(Secretly, Jiang Ruotang added: *Shizun*, your voice and hands alone have already captivated countless people. Your teaching videos get tagged under "voice-ASMR goldmine.")

Lu Guifan sighed helplessly. "I tutor you almost daily, yet you’re still ranked 250. Guess my looks aren’t impactful enough."

"Well... God opened a door for me—artistic talent—but closed the window to IQ. Luckily, there’s a view as beautiful as you outside, peeking through the cracks to let in a sliver of wisdom..." Jiang Ruotang grinned mischievously.

"Just eat your wontons."

After finishing, Jiang Ruotang lifted the bowl, loudly slurping the broth.

Lu Guifan casually grabbed a tissue from the desk, dabbing under Jiang Ruotang’s chin to catch any drips and save his sweater.

Once Jiang Ruotang left, Lu Guifan picked up the watercolor painting. Even without understanding art, he could recognize its beauty.

He exhaled, searching online for ways to protect watercolors from fading.

Jiang Ruotang’s brush had made these red roses everlasting—Lu Guifan would ensure they never faded.

As for solving the funding issue? The opportunity arrived faster than Jiang Ruotang expected.

—*If we lack guns and cannons, the enemy will provide them.*

Jiang Ruotang felt he could pull off a "Zhuge Liang’s straw boat trick" scheme. And the "straw boats"? Naturally, his resources in Chengtan.

Lin Chengdong had learned from Geng Yu’s father that a prime location had been marked for development—land that would skyrocket in value within a decade.

Lin immediately investigated and found it was the fishponds in the He Family’s village. The village’s young people had moved away from Chengtan, thinking fish farming wasn’t profitable enough, leaving the area mostly abandoned—until someone bought the entire plot over a month ago, possibly to reopen the ponds.

Digging deeper, he discovered the buyer was a Mr. Zheng. Lin made contact, offering 30% over the original price to acquire the land.

That Mr. Zheng was Zheng Huasheng.

When he got the offer, Zheng promptly notified Jiang Ruotang, asking, "With a 30% markup, you’d make a 2.4 million profit. Will you sell?"

Jiang Ruotang thought for a moment. "Mr. Zheng, let’s discuss this tonight."

Mr. Zheng knew he was going to bring up Little Sweet Fruit again. Although he didn’t approve, considering how ahead and accurate this kid’s predictions had been about Chengtan’s development, perhaps Jiang Ruotang, as a younger generation compared to Zheng Huasheng, had more foresight and judgment regarding the direction of media platforms like Little Sweet Fruit.

"Alright, let’s talk then," Mr. Zheng said while playing with his pet bird. "It’s been a while since I had a drink. My young friend Ruotang, where should we eat?"

"How about someplace trendy?"

Jiang Ruotang sent Zheng Huasheng the address of a restaurant popular with young people.

Since it wasn’t a business matter, Zheng Huasheng didn’t ask Lu’s father to drive him. Instead, he took a taxi there himself.

The restaurant had a romantic, medieval-style ambiance—an antique pendulum clock, ornate display shelves with sculptures and models of knight armor, and rose vines climbing up trellises to separate the tables. It was very thoughtfully designed.

Leaning on his cane, Mr. Zheng followed the waiter, watching young people taking photos with their phones, some even dressed up as princesses and knights to film videos.

He watched them with great interest, as if passing through one little world after another.

Jiang Ruotang had chosen a seat by the floor-to-ceiling window, where the electronic screens of the Golden Mall Twin Towers were visible outside, playing an animated movie advertisement. Below the towers, many young people were taking photos with the movie scenes. Even the table next to theirs had people shouting anime character names while posing for pictures.

Though Mr. Zheng seemed out of place in this atmosphere, he thoroughly enjoyed observing the young people, as if it made him feel younger too.

Jiang Ruotang arrived, still wearing his Beicheng Guangyao school uniform. He sat across from Mr. Zheng and grinned. "Uncle Zheng, isn’t this place interesting?"

Zheng Huasheng chuckled. "You think I don’t know why you invited me here?"

"Oh? Why then?" Jiang Ruotang propped his chin on his hand, smiling, his eyes curved like a fox's.

"You wanted me to see how dependent young people are on their phones. They don’t just take photos—they film videos, put on makeup, dress up, and likely edit effects later. Of course, they wouldn’t settle for sharing them only where their friends can see. They need a bigger stage. Little Sweet Fruit is exactly that kind of place."

"Mhm."

"While waiting for food, they also watch shows on their phones. I don’t know if they’re legitimate streams, but it shows phones have become more convenient than computers for mobile entertainment," Zheng Huasheng added.

"Heh-heh. Right now, using phones to browse websites is still a bit cumbersome, but where there’s demand, there’s development. I bet many video platforms are already developing apps optimized for mobile. And these apps might be something pirated sites can’t afford to develop or distribute."

Zheng Huasheng laughed. "Seems you’ve done a lot of homework to convince me."

"Little Sweet Fruit currently has 520,000 active users. According to surveys, half are willing to pay an annual fee to keep the platform running. If the fee is 60 yuan a year—just 5 kuai a month—that’s over 15 million yuan in membership revenue. Even if the other 260,000 users don’t pay for legitimate anime or shows, as long as they keep posting videos sharing their lives and opinions, they’re still valuable. The site can sell ads—they’re still contributing clicks."

Zheng Huasheng kept a straight face, but internally, he was already one-third convinced.

"The other two major video platforms are training users to adopt legitimate streaming habits. When industry leaders do this, followers will increase, meaning paid legitimate content will gradually become mainstream. Little Sweet Fruit charging membership fees is inevitable."

Zheng Huasheng lowered his head and took a sip of tea. Now he was half convinced.

"As for later investments in licensing, it doesn’t have to come solely from me as the major shareholder. We can bring in more partners."

"What else?" Zheng Huasheng asked.

"One more thing—the most important point. Uncle Zheng, I’m sure you’ve noticed too: TV stations are losing influence among young people. Platforms like Little Sweet Fruit will replace them, becoming the new 'clients' for dramas, variety programs, even films, gaining decisive influence in the entertainment industry." Jiang Ruotang met Zheng Huasheng’s gaze. "We need to strike first."

Just then, their food arrived—innovative dishes Zheng Huasheng had never heard of. Though the taste was questionable, the presentation intrigued him.

The idea of industry influence pushed Zheng Huasheng to 70% convinced.

"I’ll contact Little Sweet Fruit’s founder and have a professional team analyze their user base to see if it aligns with your vision. As for funding—are you sure about selling those fish ponds? They’re the largest in Chengtan."

Jiang Ruotang smirked. "Only a 30% profit? Of course not. Mr. Lin Chengdong is flush with cash. We should lighten his wallet a bit."

Zheng Huasheng chuckled. "He’s your father’s friend. I thought you’d give him a 'friendship discount.'"

"There’s no friendship between us." Jiang Ruotang’s gaze turned unusually cold.

Zheng Huasheng had long heard about Lin Chengdong’s unscrupulous ways. Out of respect for Director Jiang, he had held back, but since Jiang Ruotang wanted to make him pay, Zheng Huasheng would play along.

"Fine. Whatever profit we make from selling those eight-million-yuan fish ponds will be your investment in Little Sweet Fruit. Not a penny more."

While Zheng Huasheng agreed with Jiang Ruotang’s vision, the future was uncertain. Every venture had its limits, and Jiang Ruotang had brought him on to manage risks.

"I trust you, Uncle Zheng."

Zheng Huasheng added, "This food isn’t good."

Jiang Ruotang covered his mouth, laughing. "How about we get some real food near your place later?"

"Now you're talking."

While Jiang Ruotang had the vision, execution required experience—and Zheng Huasheng was a master. Without lifting a finger, he made Lin Chengdong feel the pressure of rising prices.

"First Kill": Mr. Zheng used Lawyer Dai’s connections to spread word of the fish ponds, attracting more investors and driving up the price.

Lin Chengdong’s initial offer of 10.4 million yuan was surpassed in under a week when a major investor bid 15 million yuan.

Furious, Lin Chengdong wondered how word had leaked when he’d only told Mr. Zheng he wanted to start a fishery—never mentioning the provincial development plans.

He even confronted Geng Yu’s father, accusing the Geng family of leaking the news, sparking a huge argument.

"The leader has more than one secretary! Even if I didn’t say anything, others might have, or the leader himself! If you can’t handle the cost, don't get involved!"

It took Lin Chengdong half an hour of apologies to calm the Geng family down.

In the entertainment industry, 15 million yuan wasn’t a huge sum for him, but the sudden spike irked him.

"Double Kill": Just as Lin Chengdong decided to secure the ponds, Mr. Zheng informed him someone had bid 20 million yuan.

Lin Chengdong’s veins bulged at his temples. Who was competing with him?

Then, in the elevator, he overheard Jiang Huaiyuan on the phone with Zhao Yunshu: "Just 20 million yuan. If the government doesn’t take the land, we’ll farm fish. I hear Chengtan whitefish sell for hundreds apiece in other provinces!"

Lin Chengdong wanted to strangle Jiang Huaiyuan on the spot. So *he* was behind this!

"Huaiyuan, you’re buying fish ponds?"

"Yeah. You know Chengtan? Yunshu has a college friend in the new district’s budget team. Rumor is the area’s being zoned for economic development, and Hejia Village has a huge fish farm! Since prices are low now, we figured we’d buy as an investment."

Jiang Huaiyuan wore a clueless "I just follow my wife" expression, making Lin Chengdong wonder—was this dumb luck?

So Zhao Yunshu had driven the price to 20 million yuan?

Lin Chengdong’s pride demanded that the fish ponds could be forgone, but he absolutely wouldn't let Jiang Huaiyuan get them cheaply!

So he raised his offer to 23 million yuan, stating that he wouldn't go any higher, and gave Mr. Zheng three days to decide—take it or leave it.

Mr. Zheng asked Jiang Ruotang, "Is 23 million yuan enough?"

Jiang Ruotang smiled. "Uncle Lin has deep pockets."

Not only was Lin Chengdong wealthy, but the big shot behind him was also quite rich.

Mr. Zheng pondered for a moment, "Alright, let's squeeze a bit more. Maybe there's still room."

Three Strikes. Back in his younger days, Mr. Zheng had once handled finances for a young man engaged in aquaculture. The two had a good rapport, and now that young man had become a wealthy aquaculture tycoon. He flew in specifically to inspect the area—Chengjiang's pristine water quality, the high-quality, in-demand white fish, and the fish ponds in Hejia Village, which were perfect for white fish farming. If done well, they could ship directly from Chengjiang, creating a vertically integrated operation covering farming and distribution.

Three days later, Lin Chengdong was going crazy. The price of those fish ponds had skyrocketed to 25 million, and not just because of that tycoon—other major fish farming magnates were also eyeing Hejia Village's ponds, possibly planning to establish a white fish farming base.

Lin Chengdong bit the bullet and bid 30 million.

Upon hearing Mr. Zheng's quote, Jiang Ruotang smiled and said, "That's enough. Any more, and my Uncle Lin would balk at paying more."

After all, his previous investment in Ark Mobile had lost so much money, and he probably still had bank loans to repay.

Those 30 million likely represented all the cash Lin Chengdong and his friends could muster—maybe even including Bai Yue, Bai Yingchuan’s mother.

"You could wait for the provincial government to negotiate. You might get even more," Mr. Zheng suggested.

"No, the administrative zone they’ve chosen isn’t there," Jiang Ruotang replied, lowering his eyes with a smile. "What if I told you that when I asked you to help me buy Hejia Village’s fish ponds, it was always with the intention of finding the right partners for white fish farming?"

Though Mr. Zheng didn’t understand how Jiang Ruotang was so certain the administrative zone wouldn’t be located there, white fish farming was indeed profitable.

"Trust me, Uncle Zheng. Investing this money in Sweet Fruit will likely pay off even bigger than white fish farming."

Zheng Huasheng massaged his temples wearily. "Since those aquaculture tycoons are already here, I might as well show them the fish ponds west of Chengtan. After all, that land is yours too. Instead of leaving it idle, why not team up and all profit?"

"Alright, I’ll follow your lead, Uncle Zheng."

8 million in, 30 million out—22 million in pure profit in just over a month. Jiang Ruotang was very satisfied with this return on investment.

Moreover, he knew that for Lin Chengdong to resell those fish ponds at a price higher than 30 million, he’d have to wait at least three to five years.

But the rapid development of smartphones meant Sweet Fruit could see returns way sooner.

Comparing the two, Jiang Ruotang was using Lin Chengdong’s money to run Sweet Fruit... a total slam dunk.

By December, the results of the provincial Art Unified Examination were released.

When Jiang Ruotang checked his scores, Jiang Huaiyuan, Zhao Yunshu, and Sister Juan stood behind him. Even Zhao Zhangfeng, straight off the basketball court, came bounding up, peering over his shoulder to ask, "Are they out yet? How many points did you get?"

"You’re the one asking about points!" Jiang Ruotang felt like smashing the cactus on the windowsill into Zhao Zhangfeng’s face.

He logged into the provincial education examination website, entered his test admission and ID numbers, and as the page loaded, the whole family was on edge.

At that moment, Jiang Ruotang was so nervous he closed his eyes, afraid to look.

Five or six seconds passed before Zhao Zhangfeng suddenly shouted, "Holy crap! Hard work really paid off!"

Jiang Huaiyuan threw his arms around Jiang Ruotang’s neck. "Son! You killed it!"

Zhao Yunshu patted Jiang Ruotang’s head. "Ruo Tang, look! You did so well!"

Only then did Jiang Ruotang dare to open one eye.

Sketch: 96, Color: 93, Speed Sketch: 95—total score: 284.

"Whoo—" Jiang Ruotang sprang to his feet. With this score, he was one foot in a top-tier uni.

Artistically, he now had more confidence about taking the Central Academy of Fine Arts' entrance exam.

At that moment, he was swamped by emotions. He recalled his past life, when under Lin Lu’s guidance, he had shown Bai Yingchuan his sketchbook, only to be met with disgust, leaving him with a deep mental block that made him fear picking up a brush.

In that life, his unified exam score was only 232. Coupled with his father’s troubles, his grades had been a mess, nearly costing him a college admission.

"I am absolutely, absolutely, absolutely a genius."

After wasting ten years, he had clawed back his skills in just three months.

"Yeah, rub it in!" Zhao Zhangfeng teased before turning to brag to his teammates.

"Did you know? My brother scored over 280 in the Art Unified Examination! Next-level good!"

"At this level, the Central Academy of Fine Arts' entrance exam is in the bag!"

"My brother’s definitely going to be a painter—the kind who holds exhibitions abroad!"

Jiang Ruotang and Zhao Yunshu tagged along behind him, exchanging a glance before cracking up.

"Zhao Zhangfeng, what about you?" Jiang Ruotang asked.

"Me? What about me?" Zhao Zhangfeng looked puzzled.

"Any news from the Capital University of Physical Education?"

"No coaches from there came to watch our matches... But after the New Year, once the nationals start, I’ll make sure those Beijing coaches sit up and take notice!"

Seeing Zhao Zhangfeng’s determination, Jiang Ruotang felt genuinely happy for him.

News of Jiang Ruotang’s provincial unified exam score of 284 quickly spread back to his school, setting the teachers' lounge abuzz.