“You don't like this kind of dress? What woman wouldn't like this kind of dress?” the background guy shouted. “And you—do you even know what kind of dress she likes?”
“Of course I know.” Jack Young ignored the background guy and turned to the attendant. “Do you have paper and pens here? Hmm, could you please bring me a set? Watercolors, if possible—just borrowing, thanks.” The attendant was very helpful and quickly brought over a full set. The pens were professional-grade brushes with watercolors, and the paper was standard-sized drawing paper.
“Oh, Big Brother Jack, you can paint too? But wedding dresses aren’t something just anyone can handle—are you sure you can pull this off?” “Hey, hey, Jack bro, this is the most professional wedding dress shop around. If you’re not skilled, be careful not to embarrass yourself!”
The background guy and girl kept up their noisy banter, but Jack Young paid them no mind. He swept his left hand over the drawing paper, feeling its dryness, texture, and grain with his fingertips, storing every detail in his heart. With his right hand, he mixed the watercolors. Everyone learned watercolor painting in elementary school, but real watercolor art is a whole different level.
Compared to oil painting, watercolors are clearer and more luminous. Jack Young seemed to be staring at the paper, yet also gazing into the distance. Yes, only these luminous colors could capture that feeling. Color after color formed on the palette, and Jack’s gaze grew distant, as if all the mixing was happening subconsciously.
Swish—once Jack Young drew the first line, the paper in front of him was no longer just paper. The wedding dress shop and the onlookers around him faded into a blank, white background. Floating up from that background were distant memories. In this moment, he was painting in the real world, but also wandering through scenes from his own past.
August 7th, 2012—his first time in Daisy Summers’s dorm room. That time, Daisy was trying to set up the internet but was clueless about the router. And when Dummy Jack stepped into the room, the first thing that hit him was—orange. The sunlight streaming through the big floor-to-ceiling curtains was orange. Orange light, orange sheets and bedding, an orange SpongeBob pillow, and a Yoxi Monkey plush tossed in the corner.
Oh, right—there was also a Portuguese egg tart on the desk, also yellow.
“Thanks for the help! Here, have an egg tart as a reward!” Daisy Summers was always happy to share her snacks.
“Mm, tasty.” Dummy Jack said it was good, but honestly, he didn’t even notice the flavor—he was totally absorbed in wrestling with the stubborn router.
“Tasty, right? I got it from AEON—I think their egg tarts are the best.” Daisy’s cowlick bounced on her head. “Little bro, I’m giving you my absolute favorite snack, so you’d better fix the internet! Otherwise, your big sis won’t survive today!”
“You, trying to act like my big sis?” Munch, munch, gulp—“At least smooth down that cowlick before you go bragging!”
Well, I didn’t remember the taste, but I did remember your favorite food—and your favorite color.
So first, it has to be this bright yellow.
And so, yellow spread across the paper.
August 12th, 2012—his first time being dragged out shopping for clothes. As a homebody, he’d never gone shopping with a girl before. A total fashion disaster, he had absolutely no clue about the world of clothing. But that time, he was yanked into a whole new world. Wandering through the big mall, he was basically in a daze, letting himself be led around aimlessly. All those brands with just letters for names? For an English flunkie like him, they might as well have been hieroglyphics.
But Daisy Summers was totally in her element, gliding through the sea of clothes like a fish in water. Seeing Dummy Jack’s clueless face, this Leo girl instantly found a stage to show off her skills. She launched into a nonstop rundown of all the brands, their features, and pros and cons.
“When you buy clothes, you’ve got to have taste. See, that one’s way too plain, and this one—ugh, way too tacky. Oh, but this accessory is nice! Just the thing to spice things up!” It was a scarf, mostly deep and bright reds.
So, we need some vivid red, too.
And so, red spread across the painting.
Jack Young’s brush kept moving, and so did his memories. From August to January, summer to winter. From cotton slippers for cleaning at home, to the down jacket she wore, puffing out clouds of white breath in the cold. Every scene with Daisy Summers was clipped out and replayed in his mind.
Pure white? Not her style—she likes colors that are bolder and richer.
“Business people have to watch out for perfume. You can’t just spray it straight on yourself like a doofus, or it’ll be way too strong. Spray it in your closet ahead of time, close the door, and let the scent soak in like rice steaming—then your clothes will smell great but not overpowering the next day. See? Like this!” Swish—Daisy flung open the closet door, and Dummy Jack nodded along, totally clueless but impressed.
Jack Young’s main focus stayed on the painting, but he could clearly see every dress and scarf. The colors were all vivid.
No doubt about it—this Leo girl is definitely not a pure white type.
She needs bright yellow and vivid red!
She needs natural green!
She needs breezy blue!
She needs dazzling purple!
She needs mysterious black!
She needs creative, quirky mixes and cuts, too!
This Leo girl wants clothes that make her stand out in any crowd—noticed at first glance, impossible to ignore!
Jack Young’s hands moved lightning-fast, painting swathes of bright color and lively, leaping lines all over the paper. At first, the background guy kept nitpicking—this bit’s off, that color doesn’t match, the lines are all wrong, total amateur hour. But Jack ignored him completely, pouring all his focus into the painting.
His memories flickered in fragments, so Jack’s brushstrokes were fragmented, too—a dab here, a streak there, with no obvious pattern. But as the painting took shape, the crowd began to hold their breath. Even the background guy, about to say something else, got shut down by a glare from the ever-patient Meng.
(This chapter isn’t finished yet~.~ Click next page for more great content!)
“What’s he painting…?” The background girl muttered, dazed. “Is this… a summer street? Sis, where is this?” She instinctively looked at Qi Xi, who had a nostalgic sparkle in her eye and a tiny smile on her lips. “That’s the road from our office to the apartment. Back then…” She broke off, because Jack Young had started painting a person.
Jack Young had seen masterful carvings in the Southern Wasteland; any true master, if they put their heart into it, could move people with every stroke. Jack painted like he was wielding a sword—every line was a memory, every stroke was a feeling. This might have been a spur-of-the-moment piece, but it felt like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times in his heart; every brushstroke was just right.
On that street, in the golden glow of sunset, a woman’s silhouette appeared. Her posture was straight and elegant—confidently straight, uniquely graceful. Her outfit was a burst of lively colors, bright and cheerful like summer sunlight. With her in the picture, the whole painting suddenly came alive, as if it had found its soul. The figure took shape: the wedding dress, the accessories, the relaxed pose, and the cowlick on her head fluttering in the breeze.
Everything glowed with a soft golden hue in the sunset.
With the final stroke, the finishing touch, the woman in the painting turned her head, revealing her profile—her eyes meeting the artist’s gaze.
That look—so bright, so full of happiness.
Everyone fell silent. Everyone felt something. They all wanted to react, but nothing seemed quite right, so in the end, all that was left was a restrained indifference. Still, they each looked at the painting with their own complicated expressions—especially Qi Xi and Meng, who just stared, lost in thought, for a long, long time.
“If you ask me, if you wore a wedding dress, this is how you’d look.” Jack Young turned to Qi Xi and smiled. Qi Xi opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words; in the end, she said nothing. Then Jack turned to Zhu Ming and held out his hand. “Thanks for coming along today. I’ve got something to do, so I’ll head out first. See you around.”
Jack Young turned and left. Meng patted Qi Xi’s shoulder and followed. “Didn’t you say you had chicken-scratch hands and couldn’t paint?” “Oops, I guess I evolved—wanting to be a heartthrob is a required course!” The two chatted as they walked away.
Qi Xi reached out and touched the painting. In the lower left corner, the title was written: "What I See."
“What I See?” The background girl looked puzzled. “What’s that supposed to mean, sis—sis? Why are you spacing out?”
“Oh, nothing, I just think it’s a great painting.” Qi Xi shook her head. “Sorry, I’m just going to the bathroom.” With that, she hurried off. She started out walking, then broke into a jog. Once she got to a stall and shut the door, she suddenly sat down, drained.
She braced her forehead in her hands, black hair falling forward to hide her face. She did nothing, barely even breathed, just sat quietly for almost a minute. Then she took a deep breath and looked up, slapped her cheeks, and forced down the swirling emotions. She pulled out her phone and texted Meng: “Next time, just the two of us.”
Soon after, a reply came with a ding: “Sure, just us.”
Meanwhile, as Qi Xi headed to the bathroom, Zhu Ming’s expression darkened. He looked at the woman in the painting, then at Qi Xi’s retreating figure, his eyes full of shadow: “What I See? Hmph.”
Once everyone else was gone, the background guy spoke to Zhu Ming with extra respect, his voice cautious, nothing like a friend’s: “Ming, do you think there’s something wrong with the painting?”
Zhu Ming just shook his head and didn’t answer, only glancing at the background guy. “You saw everything today? Remembered it all?”
“Don’t worry, I got it all—soon as we’re back I’ll write it up! How about this for a headline: ‘Crushing the Troublemaker’?”
Zhu Ming was noncommittal. “Just write it. Let me see it when you’re done. Remember, you might be from a top PR team, but there are plenty of people who can replace you. Time is tight now. I don’t care how you do it, but I want results fast.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be perfect!”
“Good. Aside from that man, there’s only one problem left.” Zhu Ming stared in the direction Jack Young had gone, murmuring, “No matter what the challenge, I’ll crush them one by one. No one can stand in my way.”