Ji Yu puffed her cheeks, scooping strawberries from the bowl into her lap and stuffing them into her mouth one after another. With her words half-muffled, she asked stubbornly:
"I didn't know, okay? I'm not an art student—how would I know about all those categories and levels of exhibitions?"
"But… since your mother's hosting it for you, doesn't that mean you're officially returning to the art world?"
Mo Yachen barely managed to snatch one strawberry from her grasp, devouring it before answering lazily:
"More or less. I used to be somewhat of a minor celebrity in the industry. And my mother—she's been cultivating oil painting for over forty years, currently an art advisor at Qinghu University."
Ji Yu stared at his calm, almost Versailles-like bragging. After a long pause, she decided to speak plainly:
"Oh. Don't know her. Next."
"Eh~? You won't even pretend? At least gasp or compliment me a little! Something like, Wow, so amazing! Your mom's really someone important!"
She sighed, shook her head, and pushed the strawberries back toward him. This Mo Yachen was nothing like the one she knew half a year ago.
It was like he'd broken character.
But before she could brush him off with some perfunctory reply, he cut in again:
"So anyway, Ji Yu—these next couple of months, I'll need you to handle student council work for me. It's just managing clubs and coordinating with professors on events—you can manage."
He caught her hand, painting big promises as he pleaded:
"Once I've finished the paintings, I'll come back right away, I swear."
Ji Yu shot him a look and yanked her hand free. Mo Yachen's tasks had always ended up dumped on her shoulders—and ninety-nine point nine nine percent of the time, she had to carry the load. She couldn't even be bothered to argue.
From his perspective, though, it was completely different.
He'd been born into privilege. He didn't need degrees or résumés to secure his future—he'd been born in Rome, so to speak, legs already on the finish line.
But in his eyes, if Ji Yu could successfully manage Yuyang's clubs, she'd have the résumé and experience to fast-track into leadership roles after graduation. Then, when he introduced her as a young, accomplished partner at the Mo family estate, the old traditionalists would surely marvel at her early success.
And so, paradoxically, since dating him, Ji Yu had spent less time with him than she had with Tang Li, who only "bumped into" her by chance.
But this time, it was different. He genuinely needed the time. A solo exhibition by even a "minor name" demanded at least fifty works. Some critics even demanded to see discarded drafts, especially given his family background.
This time, the pressure was real.
Just as Ji Yu swatted away his hand again, preparing to say No way, his phone rang.
"…"
"Mom? What is it?"
"…"
"Mm, I've started the paintings already. Drafts? I'll figure it out."
"…"
"Wait, we can use my older pieces too? That would save me so much trouble."
Ji Yu watched in surprise. It was the first time she'd seen him so tender, so gentle in tone. Normally, with her, he either disappeared or passed the buck—at best, she could nag her way into a half-hearted hug.
Resigned, Ji Yu sighed, carried the nearly empty strawberry plate to his desk, and sat down. Mo Yachen grinned, excited.
"Perfect. I've already found someone to cover for me. Bye, Mom."
Since Ji Yu had already taken his seat, he happily prepared to head home to paint.
"Hold on," Ji Yu called out. "Isn't the Club Fair on the nineteenth this month? Doesn't it look bad for you to disappear right now?"
The Club Fair?
What did that have to do with him?
None of his business. He turned, ready to leave.
"Hey! At least give me a plan! With that many clubs recruiting all at once, I'll be buried alive!"
Her soft voice tugged him back. He turned to see Ji Yu roll up her sleeves, standing before him with those sapphire eyes narrowed in frustration.
"Wait a second—I remember now. You were the one who proposed the date for the Club Fair! You set me up, didn't you?!"
She only meant it as a complaint, but Mo Yachen burst out laughing. He reached out, pinching her hand lightly.
"No, no—this time really is just a coincidence. Pure coincidence."
He dodged her demand, never offering the best strategy for managing the event. He wanted her to learn to handle it herself.
But such things, again and again, falling on her shoulders—it was exhausting.
The Club Fair, on paper, meant "a hundred clubs." Even if the real number was only fifty, it was enough to fry her brain.
As acting president and office member, she had to oversee every club's management; review each absurd proposal; liaise with professors for special requests and venue reservations…
And worst of all, she had to chair endless meetings, schedule the fairgrounds, and keep everything running.
After all, Yuyang University was a 211 school. The clubs weren't few—they were many. And spread across two campuses. The council barely had enough manpower.
The three-day event would generate more logistics than even the sports festival.
Just the thought of it left Ji Yu overloaded. All she wanted was a quiet life of self-improvement—not to be the central gear of some giant machine.
"…You can't handle it? Then maybe I'll delay my exhibition. Three days isn't much—I can catch up afterward."
Maybe Ji Yu hated trouble.
Maybe she loved peace more than noise.
But—
When someone important to her was willing to abandon something more important just to carry her burden, she closed her eyes… then slowly opened them again.
"Good luck, darling~~~~"
Her eyes softened once more. His carefree grin returned. His joking encouragement hardened her resolve to chew through this bone herself.
She decided then and there to serve as acting president for two months. She immediately pulled several proposals from the drawer—the club recruitment plans that had been piling up.
Of course—
"Go on, get out. Don't stand here getting in my way."
Power is the easiest addiction.
But it demands matching strength and status. Without them…
Power becomes a double-edged sword. When you wield it against others, the one most deeply cut in the end—will always be yourself.