Zhuang Fanxin had a sweet dream and was reluctant to wake up in the morning. He took out his phone and saw the photo the Sports Committee Member had sent last night, and his good mood instantly evaporated.

Unfortunately, it was too early and everyone was still asleep. Even if he threw a tantrum, there would be no audience. Zhuang Fanxin had to let it go, got up, and headed to the art studio, messily finishing his Chinese weekly journal on the bus.

The art studio was in a row of small Western-style houses, occupying the entire second floor. Zhuang Fanxin arrived early, so he knelt on the sofa by the window, leaning on the windowsill to watch the scenery outside. The street was bustling with traffic, and the sidewalk was shaded by large trees. He vaguely saw a taxi pull over.

A child got out, wearing a red shirt, with wavy, curly hair. When they stepped into the sunlight, he could finally see it was actually Gu Baoyan. Zhuang Fanxin stared hard. A few steps behind the child, her older brother followed, carrying a violin case and a water bottle.

Zhuang Fanxin ran out of the art studio and rushed headlong down the stairs, coming to a screeching halt at the landing. Gu Zhuoyan was coming up the stairs. Hearing the noise, he looked up and paused as well.

Perhaps remembering the pink haze from last night, Zhuang Fanxin was a little shy. "Morning."

Gu Zhuoyan was also a bit flustered. He walked up the steps to the landing to face Zhuang Fanxin and said, "Morning. What are you doing here?"

Zhuang Fanxin answered, "The art studio is on the second floor." He glanced at the violin case and children's water bottle in the other's hands and remembered there was a music studio on the third floor. "Bringing your sister for her violin lesson?"

Gu Zhuoyan grunted in affirmation. Originally, Xue Maochen was supposed to accompany her, but the old man had a gathering with old colleagues today, so he had to fill in. Just as he finished speaking, he was pushed aside by Gu Baoyan. That little brat grabbed Zhuang Fanxin's hand and said sweetly, "Brother Xiao Zhuang, you draw so well. Is this where you learned?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Yeah. You can play the violin?"

Gu Baoyan said shyly, "I just started, so I'm not very good." Children are always curious. She pulled Zhuang Fanxin up the stairs. "Brother, I want to see what the art studio looks like, okay?"

Class was starting in just five minutes. As the acting guardian, Gu Zhuoyan should have stopped her, but he didn't say a word, because he also wanted to have a look.

Zhuang Fanxin showed the siblings around. The rooms in the art studio didn't have strict purposes, and aside from the smallest one which was a lounge, the others were all more or less the same.

Gu Baoyan was more excited than if she were at Disney. The paintings and sculptures, the colorful paints—everything was new and fascinating to her. In her eyes, Zhuang Fanxin's image was not only handsome but had now soared to a height of two meters, 0.16 meters taller than Gu Zhuoyan.

Passing by the room they were just in, Zhuang Fanxin introduced Pei Zhi to Gu Zhuoyan, saying, "This is my good friend, Pei Zhi. He's one grade above us."

Gu Zhuoyan said politely, "Hello, I'm his neighbor, Gu Zhuoyan."

Pei Zhi was very mild-mannered. "Hello. I've heard Fanxin mention you."

Gu Zhuoyan's mind started racing. Just as he had frankly admitted his pursuit in front of Lu Wen and the others, would Zhuang Fanxin also reveal his innermost thoughts to his good friend? For example, what to do about his crush on his handsome neighbor, and all the sweet little happenings with the transfer student.

He asked with a seemingly casual smile, "What did he mention about me? He didn't say anything bad, did he?"

Pei Zhi said, "Showing off the sneakers you gave him—"

Before he could finish, Zhuang Fanxin shoved him back into the room. How was it possible to lose face on six out of seven days a week? He awkwardly changed the subject: "Isn't your little sister's class about to start?"

Gu Zhuoyan had forgotten what they were there for. He glanced at his watch—the violin lesson had already started eight minutes ago. He grabbed Gu Baoyan and left, heading to the music studio on the third floor for her class.

All the other children were in their places. Gu Baoyan ran over, clutching her violin, but in her heart, she kind of wanted to learn art instead. Gu Zhuoyan went to the waiting area. He was surrounded by a sea of parents—young mothers and fathers, elderly grandmas and grandpas—and he was the only teenager among them.

In the past, they always had a teacher come to the house for lessons, but Xue Maochen felt that since Gu Baoyan was just starting the violin, that would be inevitably boring. It would be more fun to have class with other children.

Gu Zhuoyan sat in among the crowd of parents. While others took photos and videos to record their precious darlings' music lesson, he played on his phone, spaced out, and twisted open the children's water bottle to drink her water.

After a short while, the violins were propped on shoulders and chins, and the playing began.

It sounded like sawing wood. Anyone who didn't know better would have thought it was a construction crew.

Gu Zhuoyan sat lazily on the sofa, his brows tightly furrowed and his thin lips pressed together. He couldn't help but take out his phone to post a status update. He wasn't the type to share his life; in the past, he only did it for Xue Maochen to see. He hadn't posted a single thing since arriving in Rong City.

This time, he posted: My ears really hurt.

Downstairs in the art studio, Zhuang Fanxin was snickering at his phone, able to imagine Gu Zhuoyan's current predicament. Just as he was chuckling, someone poked the back of his head. When he turned around, the smile hadn't yet left his face. "What is it?"

Pei Zhi said, "Do you know what time it is?"

Zhuang Fanxin scratched his head. They had arranged for a model to come in today, and he was in charge of coordinating it, but the person was already fifteen minutes late. It was Tong Yu from Science Class 2. They attended advanced classes together, and he was usually a very reliable person.

"I'll ask him." Zhuang Fanxin found the person's number and dialed.

The call connected after three rings. Tong Yu asked, "Fanxin, what's up?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "Did you forget about coming to model?"

Tong Yu said, "I ran into you in the hallway on Friday, didn't I tell you?"

At that moment, Zhuang Fanxin had been holding a stack of English test papers when he ran into Tong Yu at the door of Class 2. Tong Yu had told him that he'd sprained something in gym class and couldn't come model today. That day, he'd only been focused on handing out the homework quickly and hadn't been listening carefully. Thinking back now, he vaguely recalled that conversation.

"...Well, rest up and get better. Bye." Zhuang Fanxin regretfully hung up. When he turned back, he and the others looked at each other wordlessly. He could only offer an apologetic smile.

Where was he going to find someone free and willing to help at such short notice? Zhuang Fanxin helplessly poked at his phone screen, accidentally opening his social media feed. He once again saw Gu Zhuoyan's complaint.

He perked up. "I found someone!"

Zhuang Fanxin ran out of the art studio and rushed up to the third floor. He saw the crowd of parents outside the classroom, with Gu Zhuoyan sitting among them, legs crossed, looking extremely conspicuous.

His ears were going numb. With his arms crossed, Gu Zhuoyan was watching Gu Baoyan's silly performance when someone suddenly rushed over, crouching down by his legs and grabbing his knee. Seeing that it was Zhuang Fanxin, he was slightly surprised. "Why did you come up here?"

Zhuang Fanxin was a little out of breath. "I need your help..."

After hearing the whole story, Gu Zhuoyan had no desire whatsoever to lend a hand. To sit still in front of strangers for several hours, being observed and scrutinized, only to be turned into a painting of unknown quality? He'd rather listen to his sister play the violin.

Between euthanasia and jumping off a building, you'd definitely choose euthanasia.

"Please help me out," Zhuang Fanxin begged. "I'll treat you to lunch."

Gu Zhuoyan was unmoved. "I'll treat you to lunch, just stop begging me."

Zhuang Fanxin rubbed his knee. "Then something else is fine, too. Name any condition you want." 'This way I'll only owe one person instead of everyone in the studio. I'll agree to any condition. I can do manual labor, too.'

Gu Zhuoyan's resolve softened a bit from the rubbing. This was the second time Zhuang Fanxin had gotten physical with him, after the supermarket trip, and he was clearly wheedling. He confirmed, "Any condition?"

"...Fine!" Zhuang Fanxin agreed at once, then timidly added, "Just don't make it too difficult for me."

Gu Zhuoyan said, "Okay. I'll tell you when I think of something."

He had agreed. He followed Zhuang Fanxin downstairs to the art studio and, under everyone's gaze, walked over to the window where he was instructed to sit on the small sofa. It was the first time he'd ever sold his body. He asked, "Do I need to strike a pose?"

Zhuang Fanxin said, "No need, just relax and sit naturally." He thoughtfully adjusted a cushion. "Try to keep a blank expression in a bit, thanks."

A blank expression was Gu Zhuoyan's specialty. The small sofa was angled, and he sat on it casually. However, he wasn't quite used to so many gazes on him, so he turned his head to look at the street scene outside.

Everyone found their spots. Zhuang Fanxin reminded him, "Gu Zhuoyan, turn your face back."

Gu Zhuoyan let himself be ordered around, turning his face forward and lowering his gaze to stare at the grain of the wooden floor. His eyes must have been lowered too much, because Zhuang Fanxin made another request: "Don't fall asleep."

Gu Zhuoyan raised his eyes slightly. To be honest, he wasn't even this obedient when facing Gu Shibo. Sitting there doing nothing was truly unbearable. After about half an hour, he picked up a magazine from the small table next to him, Apparel and Beauty. 'Who cares what it is. If they gave me a Buddhist sutra to pass the time right now, I'd read it more diligently than Xuanzang.'

Zhuang Fanxin focused on his painting. He glanced up and saw the colorful, beautiful outfits on the magazine page, then looked over at Gu Zhuoyan's engrossed expression. He couldn't help but smile as he continued to paint.

After looking at the last makeup style, Gu Zhuoyan started over from the first page, but he still couldn't tell the difference between any of the looks. He closed the magazine, feeling somewhat forlorn. An hour had passed. Zhuang Fanxin announced, "Let's take a ten-minute break."

Gu Zhuoyan got up to stretch his stiff limbs. He stood by the window with his arms crossed, gazing down at the traffic and pedestrians below. Zhuang Fanxin poured a glass of water and brought it over, standing beside him. The sunlight was getting stronger, so he gently drew the curtains.

"Is it very hard to endure?"

"It's alright, just boring," Gu Zhuoyan said. "Can you find me something to read?"

Zhuang Fanxin rummaged through his schoolbag, but he hadn't brought any books, only two sets of homework worksheets he was planning to study in his spare time. Who knew this would be exactly what Gu Zhuoyan wanted; thinking through problems was a great way to kill time.

After the break, Gu Zhuoyan sat down to continue modeling, holding Zhuang Fanxin's physics and chemistry worksheets. He hadn't done his own copies yet, so he started slowly from the first question. Along the way, he picked up a pencil from the small table and circled the problems Zhuang Fanxin had gotten wrong.

When he got to the blank final question, Gu Zhuoyan roughly jotted down a few key equations. By the time he'd finished both worksheets, more than an hour had passed without him realizing it. He was a little tired and leaned back against the chair, letting his mind go blank for a moment.

He seemed to have grown accustomed to this state. He no longer felt awkward under the gazes of the others and could even return their looks calmly. But he wasn't interested in anyone else; his gaze was fixed solely on Zhuang Fanxin.

The other boy was wearing a paint-splattered apron, just like on the first day they met.

Zhuang Fanxin dabbed a stroke of paint on the canvas and looked up, meeting Gu Zhuoyan's gaze. He smiled lightly, lowered his eyes to paint for a moment, and when he looked up again, he found that Gu Zhuoyan was still looking his way.

After this happened a few times, he was certain that Gu Zhuoyan was staring at him.

Zhuang Fanxin tightened his grip on his brush, but his next strokes were somewhat weak. He stopped and hesitantly looked back. The sheer curtains couldn't fully block the midday sun, and a hazy, pale golden light filtered through, enveloping Gu Zhuoyan's shoulders.

Gu Zhuoyan was leaning relaxedly against one armrest, the worksheets held in his hand. His long legs, perhaps numb from being bent for so long, were stretched out in front of him. His lips weren't curved in the slightest, but his eyes, fixed on Zhuang Fanxin, held a trace of a smile.

It was time for a break. Everyone stretched and discussed what to get for lunch. Zhuang Fanxin remained still, holding his palette, waiting as the others gradually left until only he and Gu Zhuoyan remained in the room.

Zhuang Fanxin seemed to wake from a dream. He put down his things, took off his apron, and ambled over to the small sofa. Feeling inexplicably bashful, he searched for something to say. "Are you tired?"

"A little." Gu Zhuoyan handed over the worksheets. "They're graded."

Zhuang Fanxin took hold of the other end of the papers, but Gu Zhuoyan didn't let go, giving them a playful tug. Zhuang Fanxin finally couldn't resist asking, "Why were you looking at me just now?"

Gu Zhuoyan answered matter-of-factly, "I don't know anyone else here."

It was an irrefutable response. Suddenly, Gu Zhuoyan gave a tug, pulling Zhuang Fanxin half a step closer, so close their knees brushed against each other. He tilted his face up to look at Zhuang Fanxin. "Then why were you looking at me?"

'How am I supposed to paint without looking,' Zhuang Fanxin thought, but he just lowered his head, stammering, unable to give a clear answer.

Gu Zhuoyan didn't press him. He was suddenly reminded of the lyrics from an old song—'Silence is also like a song, the feeling is like a poem, sweetness is the doting look in one's eyes.'

Perhaps these were a string of good days he would remember in his dreams for years to come.