Chapter 20: The Little Brat

The atmosphere of the Nantong campus culture festival played like a joyful symphony throughout the school grounds.

The area around the school had long been meticulously decorated, festooned with colorful lanterns gently swaying in the breeze and brilliant ribbons crisscrossing the sky.

Various exquisite promotional posters were displayed prominently, showcasing the students’ diverse talents and creativity.

Class 1 of the first grade was busily preparing as well. Class president Liu Zhou stood at the center of the venue, directing his classmates in readying the items they needed next.

His gaze was focused and resolute, sweeping across every corner, leaving no detail overlooked.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, glistening in the sunlight, yet never distracting him from his concentration.

He commanded loudly, “The decorations over here are crooked—adjust them quickly! And over there, the props aren’t arranged neatly enough, reorganize them!”

His clear, resonant voice cut through the surrounding noise, reaching every student’s ear unmistakably.

However, mischievous Hao Weida was causing trouble nearby.

Grinning cheekily as he watched the busy class president, he occasionally pulled little pranks.

He stealthily nudged a flowerpot that had already been set in place, moving it to a less suitable spot. Then he stood aside, a sly smile playing on his lips, eyes sparkling with the thrill of mischief.

Liu Zhou quickly noticed the anomaly. Frowning and somewhat angry, he shouted, “Hao Weida, what are you doing? Stop messing around!”

His hands clenched tightly into fists, as if struggling to suppress the anger within.

Hao Weida, unconcerned, stuck out his tongue and made a face, teasing, “Nyah nyah nyah, class president, you’re so capable, what’s there to be afraid of?”

He swayed slightly, hands shoved casually into his pockets, taking on a carefree attitude.

Fu Xiaotao saw the scene and immediately rushed over.

Her steps were quick and urgent, her ponytail swinging behind her. She stopped right in front of Hao Weida, hands on hips, eyes wide with anger and disapproval, and spoke loudly.

“Hao Weida, how can you act like this? Everyone is working hard for the class, and you’re just causing trouble. That’s completely unacceptable!”

Her voice trembled slightly with emotion, her cheeks flushed with indignation.

Seeing Fu Xiaotao’s anger, Hao Weida felt a twinge of guilt.

Scratching his head, his hair tousled like a bird’s nest, a flicker of remorse crossed his eyes, but he stubbornly replied, “I’m just joking around. Don’t be so petty.”

He scraped his foot on the ground and took a small step back, trying to escape the awkward situation.

But Fu Xiaotao was relentless. She stepped closer, pointed at Hao Weida, and said firmly, “This isn’t the time for jokes. If you don’t want to help, then don’t add to the mess!”

Her gaze was unwavering, resolute and indisputable.

Hao Weida sighed helplessly, knowing he was in the wrong and unwilling to keep arguing with Fu Xiaotao.

Shrugging, he turned and walked away.

Liu Zhou crouched down, carefully picking up the displaced flowerpot with steady hands and adjusting it precisely to ensure it was properly and beautifully positioned.

His expression was serious and focused. Sweat trickled down his cheeks, dropping onto the earth below.

---

Fu Xiaotao stood nearby, clutching the class culture festival list and the props inventory tightly. Her eyes never left the paper as she muttered softly, checking each item one by one.

She frowned at times, as if spotting an issue, then relaxed her expression and lightly ticked off the corresponding entries.

Sunlight bathed her in a golden glow, while a gentle breeze stirred strands of hair across her cheek.

—

Not far away stood Fu Siqiao, dressed in an elegant, antique-style qipao, like a classical beauty stepping out of a painting.

The qipao was a tasteful porcelain blue, embroidered with delicate plum blossom patterns so lifelike that one could almost smell their subtle fragrance.

The collar of the qipao gracefully framed her slender neck, the slight hollow of her collarbone adding to her captivating charm.

Fu Siqiao’s hair was pinned up with a wooden hairpin, a few wisps falling around her face and ears, lending her a playful and lively air.

She stood before her booth, gently and skillfully arranging her painting tools.

An antique-style painting desk held neatly organized brushes, paints, and paper.

Beside it, a large sign bore elegant calligraphy that read, “Portraits: 50 yuan each; Landscapes: 20 yuan.”

A glimmer of hope and confidence shone in Fu Siqiao’s eyes as she smoothed the wrinkles from the tablecloth and set up the easel to display her works.

With the festival underway, the place grew crowded and lively.

Students flitted between booths like joyful fish swimming through a coral reef.

Every so often, someone was drawn to Fu Siqiao’s booth, pausing to watch.

Those secretly dating behind the teachers’ backs showed special interest in her portraits. They would shyly exchange glances, blush, and come forward to commission unique portraits as mementos of their tender young love.

A girl with a ponytail tugged her boyfriend’s hand and approached Fu Siqiao’s booth.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation, cheeks flushed with emotion.

“Can you draw a portrait for us, please?” she asked in a clear, sweet voice.

Fu Siqiao smiled warmly and nodded. “Of course. Please have a seat over here.”

She motioned toward the chairs by the desk.

Squinting slightly, Fu Siqiao studied the couple’s faces and expressions carefully, dipping her brush in paint and beginning to sketch the outlines on the paper.

Her strokes were delicate and fluid, as if silently telling a love story.

A crowd gathered, murmuring admiring praises for Fu Siqiao’s skill.

She immersed herself completely in painting, her slender fingers gripping the brush as it danced across the paper.

Her gaze was focused and profound, occasionally narrowing as she scrutinized the couple’s every subtle expression and posture.

As the brush moved, lines intertwined and blended, colors skillfully diffused, gradually bringing forth a portrait full of deep emotion.

Finally, Fu Siqiao set down her brush with satisfaction, gently blew on the still-wet paint, and handed the finished work to the girl.

---

The girl eagerly accepted the painting, her eyes instantly lighting up with delight and affection.

Her lips curved into a bright smile revealing perfect white teeth as she exclaimed, “Wow, it’s amazing! It looks exactly like us.”

Without hesitation, she swiftly pulled money from her wallet and handed it to Fu Siqiao.

Encouraged by this first satisfied customer, a long line soon formed at Fu Siqiao’s booth, and her schedule filled up completely.

She never stopped waving her brush. Sweat beaded on her forehead, dampening strands of hair on her cheek and neck, but she paid no mind, her eyes unwaveringly focused and determined, as if the entire world had shrunk to the canvas and her patrons.

Time slipped by quietly with the rise and fall of her brushstrokes. Evening approached.

Fu Siqiao’s arms began to ache slightly. She massaged her wrists and exhaled, preparing to pack up.

Just then, a boy slowly stepped forward.

Without looking up, Fu Siqiao wearily said, “A landscape painting? Sorry, I’m done for today. I’m closing up.”

Her voice was hoarse and weak, eyes fixed on the cluttered brushes and paints on the desk.

But at the sound of a familiar yet insistent voice, her body shuddered slightly.

Lin Siqing approached, slamming something forcefully onto the table with a loud clang.

“Closing? You have to paint for me!”

His eyes blazed with unwavering determination, brows furrowed deeply, lips pressed tight, a stubborn and resolute expression on his face.

He crossed his arms, his solid chest rising and falling, revealing his inner agitation and dissatisfaction.

Fu Siqiao looked up at Lin Siqing, a flicker of helplessness and surprise in her eyes.

“I’m really tired today. I’ve painted all day and just can’t do it anymore.”

What is this guy up to again? Such a troublesome child.

Lin Siqing showed no sign of backing down. He took a small step forward, closing the distance, and said, “I don’t care. I want you to paint it now.”

His breath was slightly rapid, warm against Fu Siqiao’s face.

A surge of grievance and anger welled up inside her. Biting her lip, she retorted, “Why are you so bossy? I’m not your slave. Why should I paint just because you say so?”

Fu Siqiao truly had no patience to deal with Lin Siqing’s childish antics today.

The surrounding students cast curious glances. The once lively marketplace atmosphere instantly grew tense.

But Lin Siqing remained stubbornly rooted in place, locked in a standoff with Fu Siqiao, neither willing to yield.