It was exactly where Jiang Fuyue had pointed—just a group of students walking home after school. At first glance, it seemed utterly unremarkable.
But on closer inspection, you’d notice a boy and girl walking side by side, pushing a bicycle and wearing school uniforms, chatting and laughing. They were eerily identical to the couple in the first painting.
Can you imagine? In an area no bigger than a fingernail, there was such hidden depth.
Had Jiang Fuyue not pointed it out, no one—not even Tosaki Naohara—would have noticed.
Upon first seeing the painting, he instinctively approached it from the angle of formal artistic analysis, never considering combing through every detail.
This is a common flaw among seasoned critics—the more experienced they are, the more they tend to be confined by their own so-called “professionalism.”
Make no mistake, Tosaki Naohara was excellent—this had to be acknowledged. He gave a comprehensive critique of both pieces from an academic standpoint. His language was concise and precise, like a beautifully constructed house—gorgeously adorned.
But he overlooked the most fundamental and critical thing: if the foundation is unstable, even the most ornate structure will collapse.
Even if it somehow stays up for a while, it’s just a castle in the air—unsustainable.
Audience, whispering—
“Who said School Uniform doesn’t have a twist? That’s a massive twist!”
“So what was the artist trying to say?”
“That doppelgänger theory sounds wild, but the more I think about it, the more plausible it seems.”
“It’s kind of meta—like a picture within a picture. ‘You stand on the bridge watching the scenery, while the person watching the scenery is watching you.’”
“Is it just me, or does the male lead in the painting seem kinda creepy?”
“Shh! Let’s hear what Sister Yue has to say…”
Jiang Fuyue: “The artist deliberately reused the same background—a tree-lined campus path—as a visual anchor. At a glance, it might seem repetitive or boring, but from another angle, the unchanging backdrop serves to highlight the changes in the characters, drawing the viewer’s full attention to the male and female leads.”
“In the fourth panel, the reappearance of the scene from the first one isn’t just coincidence. I believe the artist is emphasizing a sense of fate. As adults, we walk the same roads we once did in our youth, now with new lives and new families. Looking back, it feels like yesterday. It’s a moment that somehow feels like it’s still happening.”
“The protagonists were once young students in love. But who’s to say the next couple—those school kids in the distance—aren’t the next protagonists in someone else’s story?”
“As a poet once wrote: ‘The face I knew—who knows where it’s gone? Only the peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.’”
“And finally, my personal takeaway from the piece: When you’re young, read more books and fall in love less. Because more often than not, the leading lady changes anyway. Instead of investing in someone else and ending up with nothing, invest in yourself and watch your value grow. That’s all. Thank you.”
One second. Two seconds…
Silence.
Three seconds. Four seconds…
Still dead quiet.
Fifth second—
The crowd finally reacted.
Sixth second—
Thunderous applause and shrieking cheers erupted, threatening to blow the roof off.
“Sister Yue nailed it!”
“Did she get professional emcee training or something?”
“So Yue Goddess is warning us not to fall in love early—because you’re just raising a perfect husband for another woman?”
“That actually makes so much sense. Teenage romance is mostly tragic anyway. Not worth the emotional investment.”
“‘Invest in yourself, not in others’—I declare this my new life motto!”
“Feels like we’ll never see Goddess Yue in a high school romance. What a loss.”
“You shouldn’t fall in love early! Didn’t you see how brutally that painting ended?”
The teachers, including Zhao Tiejun, all nodded in agreement.
Jiang Fuyue had become the model student in their eyes.
Ahem… Well, she already was a model student.
Now, she was an even more model model student.
“Look at her! Such a beautiful girl—thinking not of boys or fun or snacks, but about studying hard and self-investment!”
“What admirable values!”
“What a clear and mature worldview!”
Director Xiong: “It was the right call to bring the junior high kids to see this.”
Zhao Tiejun: “Students should all be like Jiang Fuyue!”
Front row of the audience—
Representative from Huaxia: “Principal Hu, this student…”
So moved, he was momentarily speechless.
“She’s truly a rare gem! You must nurture her well—she will be an outstanding successor for the cause of socialism!”
Principal Hu: “Rest assured. As educators, this is our solemn duty—we will not fail you!”
And so, the cultural contest of the Four Arts—qin, qi, shu, hua—had reached its conclusion. Victory decided. The winner clear.
Team R slumped in complete defeat, like wilted eggplants, lounging in their seats, questioning their very existence.
Tosaki Naohara was especially quiet.
Eyes half-lowered, he no longer looked at Jiang Fuyue or anyone in the audience. He seemed lost in thought, unable to pull himself out.
The crowd was cheering wildly, but Jiang Fuyue stepped forward, mic in hand, and stood before Tosaki.
“It’s been an honor to engage in this cultural exchange with such talented students from Country R. Whether it was music, chess, calligraphy, or painting, it’s clear that Huaxia and Country R have both similarities and differences—because…”
Tosaki slowly looked up.
Jiang Fuyue met his gaze, unwavering.
“History doesn’t lie. Culture is meant to be shared. What is national can also be global. No matter the country, no matter the race, everyone has the right to learn, create, and spread culture—and the duty to pass it on and let it flourish.”
“Today’s world is like a global village. Any form of unilateralism or cultural dominance is doomed to fail. Only by joining the river of the world’s cultures can we innovate, be inherited, and be embraced globally.”
“What do you think, Tosaki?”
She extended a hand.
After a long pause, Tosaki finally reached out and gently shook it: “…You’re right.”
It was his own narrow-mindedness that had led him to trap himself.
“…I’m sorry.”
In that moment, the applause was louder than ever before.
“Sister Yue’s big-picture perspective is unreal—I’ve said the word ‘awesome’ so many times I’m hoarse.”
“No wonder she’s a patriotic queen. All the grandeur of Huaxia seems to shine through her.”
“‘What is national is also global’—how much wisdom and courage does it take to say that?”
“Grateful to be born in Huaxia. Yue God is amazing. Long live Huaxia!”
“She’s strict and inviolable, yet also generous and inclusive!”
“Grades are the least impressive thing about her. It’s her heart, conduct, poise, and spirit that make her shine.”
“Why do I feel like her soul is glowing?”
Finally—
The Huaxia rep took the stage: “I hereby declare the Huaxia-R Cultural Exchange Event officially concluded!”
Thunderous, unending applause.
Today was another day of sore hands.
At the entrance, a tall figure slowly raised his hands again, offering applause for the umpteenth time.
Xie Dingyuan had arrived early.
From the chess match to the painting showdown, he’d watched everything.
He’d seen her calmly command the board, confidently recite texts, and offer increasingly brilliant commentary—each word like a pearl.
She was more talented than he’d imagined. More extraordinary than he’d expected.
It felt like…
A mysterious mountain—majestic from afar.
But once inside, it was a world unto itself.
And the deeper you went, the more treasures you found.
What those treasures were, how many there were—no one could say.
Xie Dingyuan stared at the stage, where the girl shone brightly, dazzling as the sun. His throat bobbed. His fingers twitched.
Yes, he was drawn to her.
If he could, he’d uncover everything about her. Discover all her secrets.
But her voice still echoed in his ears—read more, love less when young.
Recalling her stance on avoiding early romance, a bitter smile crept onto the man’s lips.
Xie Dingyuan knew—until she graduated high school, he didn’t stand a chance.
But on second thought—if he didn’t, then no one else did either.
Somehow, that was a little comforting.
When Jiang Fuyue finally decided she was ready for love, he might not be her final choice—but he’d definitely be the first candidate on her shortlist.
At the time, Xie Dingyuan didn’t know there was a type of man called a simp.
Of course, as the aloof and proud Professor Xie, the cold flower on the mountaintop—even if he did know, he would never admit to being one.
His phone rang again.
This time, he didn’t hang up like before.
“Hello?”
“Thank goodness! You finally picked up! A dozen board members are still waiting in the conference room. Should we proceed or…”
No one knew why the ever-reliable President Xie had suddenly dashed out this morning after reading a single text—vanishing for almost three hours, leaving an entire boardroom waiting.
