"Hmm, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ignored your advice, Qinghuan, can you draw it for me, please?"
Feng Yize admitted his mistake while looking at Qinghuan expectantly.
Qinghuan didn't reply, clearly unwilling.
"Then I'll go home and draw it myself."
Qinghuan thought Feng Yize was just saying that casually.
She didn't pay much attention until the next morning, when she received Feng Yize's self-portrait, oh no.
To be precise, it was a cartoon image of Feng Yize, which also included her, drawn in the style of a three-year-old, leaving her dumbfounded.
[Qinghuan, do you think my drawing is okay?]
He still wanted praise for a drawing like that.
Since when did she look so ugly?
After quickly washing up, Wen Qinghuan ran straight to the third-floor art room. She picked up her brush and within ten minutes, she had sketched the scene of Feng Yize's fall from last night.
And it wasn't just one drawing; it was three.
