The morning light enveloped the corridor in soft colors. Fu Yuhan stood at the door of the office, but felt a little cold inexplicably. In September, the heat has not yet dissipated, but the morning and evening gradually smells of autumn.

At this moment, Wen Yu, who was standing facing the workstation with his back to the door, suddenly moved down and stood next to Zhou Wenkang. Perhaps in order to see what was on the desk, he raised his eyes and eyebrows and gently swept over Fu Yuhan-

The eyes flowed in the narrow eyes, and then fell silently with a smile, and returned to the desk.

Fu Yuhan was stunned, and suddenly felt annoyed. His casual gaze made him see a certain teasing feeling.

For a moment, he felt like a wild cat.

But it may also be an illusion.

He didn't want to go into it, so he quickly went back to the classroom to get the album and went out through the back door.

There are several teaching buildings in No. 3 Middle School, and the buildings are connected by an aerial corridor. At first glance, it looks like a maze. Only students who walk through it every day know about some secret good places.

Fu Yuhan went downstairs, walked through the winding corridor, and walked to the vicinity of the laboratory.

On the far right side of the teaching building here, the outside of the building has been hollowed out for aesthetic considerations, which just happens to allow people to look out through the small platform at the corner of the stairs.

Fu Yuhan curled up his legs, sat on the ground, and opened the album.

This is the corner where he often sits, for no special reason. In summer, the corridors are always hot, and the shade here is often windy due to structural reasons, which is relatively cool.

After sitting for a long time, he found that from this place, he could cross the school fence and see the street trees and passers-by outside. An old painter once told him that if he wanted to quickly improve his ability to grasp shape, he would find a corner to sit down and sketch the pedestrians.

The pedestrian is always moving, even if he stays somewhere, it doesn't take long, and he doesn't keep an action for a long time like a sketch model. This requires him to outline the rough shape in a very short time, and some details even need to be based on the cognitive thinking of the human body structure to draw.

Another reason is that this corner is very quiet, allowing him to forget about anything else and devote himself to it.

But something happened today.

When he was drawing the second picture, a slightly familiar voice came from behind Fu Yuhan: "Are you here again?"

The pen tip pauses.

He turned around: "…Teacher Yao."

The person who came was the director of the Student Affairs Office, his surname was Yao. He was about fifty or sixty years old. His temples were vaguely gray. Although his face was kind, because of his discipline, he would stand at the school gate every Monday morning to check his school uniform and appearance. The students were a little scared when they saw him.

Fu Yuhan was not very scared, but he didn't expect to meet him here.

If there weren't experimental classes in this place, neither the teacher nor the student would come here.

Director Yao knocked on the dial on his wrist: "If I was right, it seems that it is class time now, right? Tell me yourself, how many times is this the one I caught?"

“…This is the first time this semester.”

"People's mouth." Director Yao was not angry, but laughed, "I'm sorry for school?"

If you dare to keep off the class, how can you still feel embarrassed to talk?

Fu Yuhan didn't say anything.

Director Yao looked at him and his eyes fell on the picture album he spread out in his hand. The white paper was insignificantly white in the natural light, and the young man's neat brushstrokes fell on it, forming a street scene.

Unlike my own cold feeling, Fu Yuhan's brushwork is not light, especially the brushwork in the shadows is particularly vigorous, which clearly outlines the outline of the characters under the sunlight in contrast.

It is not very easy to draw the light feeling with black and white contrast. Even from the perspective of an outsider, it is a very good painting.

"Actually, I've seen you several times, here." Director Yao suddenly said, "I've talked to you Teacher Zhou. He told me that you are a student with a very special situation. I think he has ideas, so he has never caught you."

The cold and quiet eyes were like strings on musical instruments, and they were gently plucked. Fu Yuhan lowered his eyes, raised them again, twisting half of his face and looking directly at Director Yao.

He is waiting for his next sentence.

"You may want to ask me why I came here today - it's actually because of the third year of high school." Director Yao continued, "You may not have any special feelings when you come to the third year of high school. Maybe you will feel that the teacher emphasizes that 'high school' is important' all day long. But this is indeed a very important year. Even if the college entrance examination cannot determine a person's life, it will change many things. I hope you..."

"I didn't feel annoyed." Fu Yuhan suddenly spoke.

His eyes drooped, looking a little listless, and his voice lowered unconsciously, "Teacher Zhou has talked with me many times, but..."

"I don't think it's easy?"

Fu Yuhan nodded.

His thin fingers turned his pen halfway through the pen and tapped the paper twice: "Sometimes I feel..."

"What?"

Fu Yuhan licked his lips and shook his head: "Nothing."

He is not very good at cutting himself open, and he will feel ashamed as soon as he says something.

Asking for help is like a cowardly act. A teenage boy can do anything, but he will never be willing to be embarrassed.

However, young people always have a misunderstanding, thinking that they are all-encompassing, but they don’t know that they are facing the teacher who has lived for decades, and that little bit of silence is really easy to guess.

Director Yao pondered a little: "I feel that I can't find the target?"

Fu Yuhan didn't say anything anymore.

This reaction seemed to be a default, Director Yao smiled: "I heard that when you did a volunteer survey at the end of last semester, you handed in a blank questionnaire... You don't know which school you want to take, right?"

Some people choose schools and look at rankings, while others choose schools and look at majors. Fu Yuhan is not interested in both.

At that time, when he was staring at the blank questionnaire, Fu Yuhan felt it was amazing. He thought about a lesson and finally handed in a blank piece of paper.

"I've seen you skip classes and paint outside," Director Yao asked, "Why don't you consider going to the Academy of Fine Arts?"

"..." Fu Yuhan paused, "I need training before the exam...my mother would not agree."

"Can parents do their jobs? What can senior high school teachers do? Are you still helping you solve problems? You find your own path, even if you feel confident and bold, and tell the teacher when you encounter difficulties, the teacher can help you."

Director Yao is worthy of being a student who has been working as a student for many years, and his tone of persuasion and lecture was completely different. At least this second, Fu Yuhan did not see the shadow of the "Shura" who was caught and dyed his hair at the school gate. Instead, it was very... bitter and thoughtful.

Like Zhou Wenkang.

"But--" Director Yao changed his tone, "Even if you take the art exam, you still need a foundation in cultural courses. If you want to go to a good art school, you can pass the score line for Chinese and English in single subjects, right? You can get 75 points in both subjects, are you sure you get it?"

Fu Yuhan: “…”

"Why don't you go back to class soon?"

“…”

"After all the time, I'll catch me." Fu Yuhan sighed, put the album on, and slowly stood up from the ground. "Teacher Yao, your routine is getting deeper and deeper."

"I didn't scold you, I didn't deduct points, I didn't remember you for punishment." Director Yao laughed and scolded, "Just be content! You can be good at getting the cheap ones."

It was not cheap. Fu Yuhan didn't know that he only knew that today's sketching was ruined again.

but--

It doesn't seem to be very bad either.

The place he sat at was at the corner between the second and third floors, and the classroom of Class 6 was on the third floor of another building. He said goodbye to Director Yao and walked up with the album in his arms.

There was a wooden door between the stairs and the corridor. No one came here, and the door was closed. Fu Yuhan opened the door and was about to leave, but suddenly he was stunned.

He subconsciously looked back and saw Director Yao leaving.

"Why are you here?" He then spoke, closed the wooden door behind his back, as if he wanted to cover up something, "It's not class time?"

Wen Yu hugged his chest, put his back against the wall beside the wooden door, and his long legs crossed and stretched forward. Hearing the question, he turned his head slightly, stared at Fu Yuhan for a while, and then smiled: "Aren't you here too?"

"How is this the same? I..." Fu Yuhan paused.

Wen Yu asked back: "What's the difference?"

One is a good student who is said to have good grades and transfers directly to key classes. He is praised by teachers of various subjects as soon as he comes. The other is a class six with classes with classes squinted at two days.

Of course it is different.

But Fu Yuhan didn't want to tell the difference in person.

He was silent, and then he thought about it. Wen Yu's class seemed to have nothing to do with him.

It's just a little strange...no need to go into it.

"Nothing." Fu Yuhan slapped his long and thin eyelashes twice, and said, "I'm going back to class."

He raised his foot and left. Wen Yu tskated and grabbed his arm.

Fu Yuhan was forced to stop and was a little impatient: "What are you doing?"

"You looked at me twice in the office just now." Wen Yu smiled, "I thought you would have something to say... I want to tell me."

office?

Fu Yuhan was stunned.

Apart from the glance back before leaving, he had been looking at Wen Yu with his own eyes. How did Wen Yu know that he was looking at him?

Isn't he talking to Zhou Wenkang?

"I have nothing to say." Fu Yuhan subconsciously licked his lips, "I didn't look at you..." He suddenly realized something was wrong and frowned, "Wait, you didn't come here with me, right?"

Wen Yu raised his eyebrows.

Then, his eyes bent and smiled happily: "You finally found out."

Fu Yuhan: “…”

Fu Yuhan: "What are you doing with me?"
To be continued...