Looking for death? Lin Fang was truly furious now. She picked up the broken porcelain shards from the ground and hurled them at the man’s pressure points. In no time, he collapsed to the floor, unable to move. This was Teacher Wang’s family matter, and Lin Fang had originally intended to intervene only if Teacher Wang was in danger. That’s why she had thrown chopsticks to make the man kneel when he tried to hit Teacher Wang. But she hadn’t expected him to remain so arrogant, which crossed her tolerance threshold.
Her sudden action even startled Guo Hongping. Teacher Wang was equally surprised by her skills—only Meatball remained unfazed, as if this were nothing unusual.
Lin Fang didn’t have time to worry about others’ reactions. She had to deal with the immediate problem first. Turning to the man, she said calmly, “Consider this a small warning. If you ever dare to bully Teacher Wang again, or if anyone causes trouble for her—whether it’s related to you or not—you’ll spend the rest of your life crawling.” Her tone was as composed as if she were instructing her students on calligraphy.
The nephew of Teacher Guo had only dared to boss Teacher Wang around because his uncle treated his aunt poorly, and he was the only male heir in the Guo family. But in terms of actual ability, he had none. Now, thoroughly terrified, he nodded frantically despite the excruciating pain, not even daring to whimper. Once the numbness wore off, he picked up his folding bed and limped away.
After this commotion, none of them dared to let that man take care of Teacher Guo again. They needed to find a caregiver before the school semester started.
On the morning of the fourteenth day of the lunar new year, after finishing her class, Lin Fang was answering parents’ inquiries about calligraphy lessons when Dou Yalin stormed into the bookstore and declared, “I challenge you to a portrait-drawing contest.”
“No time,” Lin Fang refused bluntly.
She had anticipated Dou Yalin’s challenge but hadn’t expected it to come at such an inconvenient moment. With children, parents, her own family members, and Dou Yalin herself, there were over twenty people present. If Lin Fang lost, her reputation among students and parents would take a hit. Dou Yalin was clearly here to sabotage her.
Ever since Lin Fang had slapped Dou Yalin, the latter had changed. Once proud and lively, she now brooded in silence, no longer participating actively in class. Her midterm results were average, and by finals, she ranked third from the bottom—all because she had spent nearly all her time practicing drawing.
Lin Fang wasn’t afraid of the challenge, but she had no interest in humoring a petty rivalry with a teenage girl. Besides, she genuinely had no time. The next day was the Lantern Festival, and the three of them—Lin Fang, Meatball, and Guo Hongping—hadn’t returned home since the sixth day of the new year. They missed their families. They had already arranged with Teacher Wang to leave early after class, cook dinner at her place, and then catch a long-distance bus home. If they were too late, there’d be no transportation.
This Lantern Festival held special significance for Lin Fang—it was her first since her rebirth. She wanted to spend it with her family and have her mother try making wild herb and braised pork dumplings, comparing the taste to what Aunt Hong had made in her past life. If they were well-received, she might even sell them in her future snack shop. With her parents’ restaurant opening soon, this could become a signature dish.
“No time? Or are you just scared?”
Since Dou Yalin was here to cause trouble, she wasn’t about to back down. She had trained professionally in art and had spent months honing her skills. She was confident in her abilities, while Lin Fang, an untrained amateur, was beneath her notice. Even though she had suffered at Lin Fang’s hands before, she was convinced she could win this time.
Lin Fang was growing impatient and was about to shoo Dou Yalin away when a parent asked, “Xiao Lin, you can draw too?”
“Of course, Grandpa Sun. Calligraphy and painting are closely related.” With others now involved, Lin Fang sighed inwardly—this contest was unavoidable.
Sure enough, another parent chimed in, “If you say they’re related, why don’t you show us what you can do?”
“Fine. Since my classmate here wants to challenge me to a portrait contest, she can choose the subject. How does that sound?” Wanting to get it over with quickly, Lin Fang agreed readily.
No sooner had she spoken than a few more people entered the bookstore—students from her class and Liang Xiaoyan’s, some of whom had even asked Lin Fang to draw their portraits before. Clearly, they had been waiting outside and only came in after hearing Lin Fang accept the challenge.
A parent asked Meatball what was going on, and he gave a rough explanation, though his tone was far from neutral. Still bitter about Dou Yalin’s words that night in the classroom, he barely restrained himself from lashing out at her.
While he wasn’t in the mood to elaborate, others filled in the details. The students reenacted Lin Fang and Dou Yalin’s past exchanges, even embellishing the scene a little. Soon, the parents had a clear picture of the rivalry between the two.
“Good. Since you’re letting me choose, I will.” Without hesitation, Dou Yalin pointed at Grandpa Sun. “Him.” Her tone was imperious.
Her complete disregard for whether the subject consented to being drawn made Lin Fang sigh inwardly. She had to step in: “Grandpa Sun, would you mind modeling for us? Just sit naturally—no need to do anything else.”
Lin Fang didn’t want this absurd challenge to ruin her reputation. Building a good name for her study group had taken immense effort, but destroying it could happen in an instant—a single glance, word, or gesture. She wasn’t about to let her hard work go to waste.
“Sure. Where should I sit?” Grandpa Sun was obliging.
“Wherever you feel comfortable,” Lin Fang replied.
But Dou Yalin scoffed, “Hmph. Amateur. Models don’t just sit anywhere—they follow directions. If every model did as they pleased, it’d be chaos. Grandpa Sun, you need to sit where Meatball is.” Her bossy tone made several parents shake their heads.
Dou Yalin had already scoped out the best spot—Meatball’s seat had ideal lighting and contrast.
Grandpa Sun frowned. “Xiao Lin, should I sit where she says?”
“Grandpa Sun, since I let her choose, please humor her. After we finish, I’ll give you the book you were looking at earlier as thanks.” Lin Fang suppressed her irritation. Dou Yalin was making demands before the contest even started, and her rudeness risked alienating the parents.
“No need. I’m happy to help.” Grandpa Sun moved to Meatball’s seat, and Meatball helped him settle in before standing behind Lin Fang.
“No, Grandpa Sun, you can’t sit so casually—”
Dou Yalin kept issuing commands until the onlookers lost patience. Some left outright, while others asked if she was actually going to draw or not. Reluctantly, she finally shut up and started sketching.
While Dou Yalin fussed, Guo Hongping grew anxious. Grandpa Sun was elderly, and she worried the ordeal might strain him. Once Dou Yalin finally quieted down, she brought him a cup of tea. She didn’t know much about art, but she understood portraits took time—Grandpa Sun would have to hold his pose for a while, and that couldn’t be comfortable.
Dou Yalin objected immediately. “Hey! You just ruined the composition by adding a cup!”
A student scoffed, “What, Dou Yalin, can you only draw single subjects? If adding one thing throws you off, maybe you shouldn’t even compete.”
“I can draw just fine!” Dou Yalin snapped. “She messed up my setup—am I not allowed to say anything?”
“Girl, if you’re not drawing, I need to move. My back can’t take this much longer.”
Grandpa Sun’s complaint resonated with everyone. Even young people would struggle to sit rigidly for so long, let alone a septuagenarian who’d been posed and adjusted for ages.
“Grandpa Sun, relax. Sit however’s comfortable.” Lin Fang reassured him before turning to Dou Yalin. “Either draw or get out.”
“I am drawing!” Dou Yalin didn’t dare argue further—the memory of Lin Fang’s slap still stung.
To wrap things up quickly, Lin Fang opted for a quick sketch. By the time she finished, Grandpa Sun was nodding off, while Dou Yalin hadn’t even completed half of hers. Lin Fang signaled Guo Hongping to drape Meatball’s coat over Grandpa Sun—even with heating, sleeping without extra layers risked a cold.
Lin Fang’s drawing circulated among the crowd, earning praise. Two students even booked future portrait sessions at the usual rate of ten yuan each.
Soon, others followed suit, eager to spend their New Year’s money on a bit of vanity. Lin Fang told them to line up as usual.
When parents asked about the pricing, students explained how Lin Fang charged for portraits and made people look beautiful. Two who had been drawn before vouched for her skills, sparking quiet discussions among the adults.
Dou Yalin’s carefully planned composition was ruined again—first by the cup, then by Grandpa Sun’s drowsy expression. She wanted to start over, but the crowd had no patience left. One by one, they left, muttering complaints. After all, it was almost lunchtime.
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