Tokyo: Who would still fall in love after being spoiled?

Chapter 4: Amano has no history of mental illness

He set up the easel next to the girl with medium-length hair and stared at the white paper for a long time.

The color exams at universities on the island are different from those in China.

The domestic color test is basically for still life, and most of the examples of his paintings when he was an art teacher were of this type.

However, the color test of the island's universities basically only gives candidates an abstract concept theme, plus a few ideological requirements, and allows candidates to express themselves freely.

Now it was free practice time, there was no subject to refer to, and he couldn't think of anything in particular he wanted to draw.

Besides, just sitting in the art classroom, behind the easel, always caused him to feel a bit dazed.

He couldn't help but wonder why he was willing to be an art exam teacher in his previous life.

He recalled the only time he set up a stall on the street.

He still remembers the scene before closing the stall.

That was the only buyer who stayed all day.

He praised the beauty of the painting, the delicateness of the mane, the agility of the hooves, and the expressiveness of the eyes.

In the end, he was only willing to pay twenty dollars to buy his painting which took him several months to complete.

Some papers and dyes cost more than twenty yuan.

Just draw it... the street scene at the intersection at dusk, with the street lights just coming on.

He took a deep breath, dipped his paintbrush into the bucket of the medium-length-haired girl next to him, rinsed it, melted some of the dye that had not yet completely dried on the dirty palette, and started drafting on the drawing paper.

I haven't held a watercolor brush other than a CNC pen for more than ten years, so I was a little unfamiliar with it at first.

He slowed down his brushstrokes, slowly trying to recall the feeling of painting in his previous life and of drawing example paintings for art exam candidates.

The drafting took about ten minutes, and there were many places that needed to be redrawn.

He found that not only was his painting skills not as refined as when he was selling paintings on the streets - this was inevitable, as the art exam training class required teaching efficiency and required him to teach quickly - but now his observation of forms was not as sensitive as when he was an art exam teacher.

CNC pens and paint brushes are completely different things.

He was still a little rusty after all...but it didn't matter - he knew very well that if he didn't make progress, he would regress. If he regressed, he could just practice again.

He re-examined the pattern he had created, picked up the palette, stood up and walked outside.

There is a row of washbasins not far from the corridor of the art classroom on the first floor, which makes it convenient to clean the palette.

In fact, for him, the palette can be used no matter how dirty it is. Even the palette itself is not important and can be replaced by any piece of hard cardboard.

The main purpose of walking out of the classroom is to change my mood and wash my face to refresh myself.

As soon as he left, he heard the sound of stool legs moving, clothes rubbing, and whispers of discussion coming from behind him.

They must have come over to look at his paintings and discuss them, mostly speculating about what he wanted to paint and how good his modeling skills were.

He wasn't particularly curious about the subject.

The water supplied to the entire school must first be transported to several large water tanks on the rooftop, disinfected, and then transported downward along the water supply pipes.

The row of pools next to the old school building is also close to the stadium. Some of the faucets have been turned 180 degrees to make it convenient for members of the sports club to drink water directly after physical education classes.

I wonder if Amano, who could easily crush him, is a member of the badminton club and whether he would come here to drink water.

Thinking of this, he imagined a beautiful girl like Amano, opening her mouth, lifting her hair, and drinking water from the drinking faucet...

It's really weird.

wow——

After rinsing the palette roughly, he scooped up a handful of clean water, splashed it on his face, and shook his head.

I imagined scenes like Amano drinking water, Amano playing ball, Amano wiping sweat, etc. I washed my face a few times and then raised my head.

He actually saw Amano himself appear in front of the pool opposite him, wearing the uniform sailor suit for the second grades of the school, with a bow tied meticulously on his chest.

When he noticed Amano, she was looking at him.

The faucet was forgotten to be turned off, and the clean water flowed freely and wastefully.

"...Amano-san?" He remembered what happened in the physical education class and wanted to simply apologize.

"Sorry." Amano apologized before him. "Huh?" He was confused.

"I deeply sympathize with Inoue's situation," she added, her tone hardly joking. "But I don't have depression, no history of mental illness, and I've never contemplated suicide."

She was genuinely ashamed: "I know that Inoue has mental problems and suffers from them, but I have no similar experience and don't know of any psychiatrists who can cure Inoue's illness."

After saying that, Amano wiped his freshly washed hands with a handkerchief, pulled the sleeves of his sailor uniform back into place, and turned to walk into the club building.

"..."

He was silent.

He never thought he'd be considered a psychopath one day. So, would he have a chance to go to Amei Liao and roast and eat the bird that kept yelling "stinky shit" at everyone?
But there is a good thing, it seems that there is no need to apologize.

He followed Amano's back to the end of the corner, came to his senses, turned off the faucet that had been running for a while, shook his wet hands, and went back to the art classroom with the washed palette.

When he reached the corridor, he happened to see Amano opening the door of the piano classroom. He noticed him, took a look, and walked in.

foreign aid?

Can you play both badminton and piano?
Would piano students on the island be allowed to be so passionate about sports...

It’s unlikely, and the probability is even higher than finding classmates to pass the time.

Inoue gave himself a simple conclusion and walked into the art classroom.

The students who had been secretly watching him paint had already gone back to their places. When he pushed the door open and walked in, many eyes turned to him, with different expressions.

He paid no attention, walked around the unused still life table in the middle of the classroom, and sat back behind his easel.

"Hey, why don't you ask him...Ask him what he's planning to draw?" The short-haired girl saw him sit down, and said to the young lady who lent him the painting tools with her wrist.

"Ah... I drew it wrong. Saotome—"

"Ah—sorry, sorry…"

"No need to ask..." the middle-length-haired lady replied, "It's a very clear street scene composition: tall buildings, an intersection, traffic lights, and a few people who are not sure what they are doing."

"According to what you said, this guy's painting skills must be very good? I don't believe it..." The short-haired female companion said disdainfully, "He must be trying to be mysterious, drawing something similar to the things in the graphic design exam, but he has no grasp of the essence of it, just copying others... Can he also draw the elephant legs that Motano drew a few years ago?"

"You'll know when he finishes the painting..." The voice of the lady with medium-long hair seemed to be clearer and more pleasant than that of her short-haired companion.

He began to mix the colors while listening, and methodically laid down the colors, shaped the shapes, and drew the lines layer by layer according to his own pace...

I calmed down after a long time, completely unaware of the passage of time.

By the time the final stroke was completed, it was almost evening, and the golden sunset was pouring in through the window.

He came to his senses and found that most of the students in the art club had gathered around him without him noticing. Even the teacher who was initially lying on the desk fiddling with his cell phone was standing behind him.

There is also a sunset in the painting.

The tall building casts its shadow across the entire painting, the painting seller sits dejectedly in the shadow, and the buyer stands in the sunset, holding the painting of the horse.

The paintings, carefully framed and with golden frames, were placed on the ground at no cost.

The art classroom was very quiet at this time.

“Is this guy selling paintings on the street?”

Seeing him put down his pen, someone behind him asked.

"Correct."

"Is the painting in the buyer's hand a horse?"

"A magnificent horse." He also looked at the painting and replied, "A magnificent horse with extraordinary spirit."

"It's such a detailed painting..." The short-haired girl saw the painting and stopped criticizing him. She leaned on the shoulder of the medium-long-haired girl and asked him, "Hey, how does this guy's painting skills compare to yours?"

"Better than who I am now." He suddenly felt an indescribable sense of relief in his heart, as if he had finally let go of something, as if he had suddenly found something he had lost for who knows how many years. "Much better."

"Then," this time it was a boy who asked curiously, "how much does that horse painting cost?"

He thought about it and couldn't help laughing.

"It's priceless!"

(End of this chapter)