Paint for the elderly?
Paint those memories of war, etched into the bones?
Lin Wan Yi's heart suddenly sank.
This isn't painting Happy Sheep.
It's not painting little animals building houses.
It's blood, it's fire, it's a history stacked with countless lives.
Is she capable of painting that?
On the way home, she didn't say a word.
Gu Yanshen didn't ask.
He just slowed his pace, matching her rhythm.
Just as they were nearing home, Lin Wan Yi stopped.
"Gu Yanshen."
"Hmm."
"I'm afraid I won't paint well."
Her voice was very soft, with a hint of tremor even she didn't realize.
Gu Yanshen turned around.
He looked at her.
He didn't say any empty words like "I believe in you."
He just said, "You paint."
"I'll be with you."
Four words.
Heavier than any promise.
Lin Wan Yi's heart instantly settled.
For the next three days, she locked herself in the study.
The combat illustrated reports at home had been thumbed through until they were falling apart.
