Chapter 4

That night, in the quiet of his dorm room, Lin decided to practice soul painting. He set up his easel, the canvas a stark white, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heart, the flow of his breath. Professor Li's words echoed in his mind: "Understand the flow of chi within yourself." He let his mind wander, exploring the recesses of his soul, seeking the essence of what made him an artist.

With trembling hands, he picked up his brush and began to paint. The first image was of his mother, her face lined with the hardships of a life spent working in the fields, yet filled with the warmth of her unyielding love. He poured everything he felt for her into the strokes, hoping to capture her spirit. Yet, when he stepped back to examine the painting, it remained lifeless, a mere representation of her form.

Next, he painted the landscape of his village, the rolling hills and the ancient banyan tree that had stood sentinel over generations. His heart ached with longing, but the scene remained unchanged, a two-dimensional memento of a place he had left behind. Despite his best efforts, the painting did not breathe the life he knew it had in reality.

Third, he tried a portrait of the art professor who had discovered him, the man whose belief in his talents had brought him to Xinghua Academy. He painted with admiration and gratitude, but when he opened his eyes, the image was still, a mere echo of Professor Shi's vibrant personality. The painting lacked the spark that made the professor's eyes twinkle when he spoke of art.

Feeling discouraged, Lin set down his brush and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall. He knew he had to connect with his art on a deeper level, to infuse it with a piece of his soul. He thought back to the joy he had felt when painting on the village streets, the freedom and passion that had flowed through him. He knew he had to find that again.

With a determined nod, he decided to start fresh the next day. He knew that success wouldn't come overnight, but he was ready to put in the work. He had come too far and dreamed too big to let a few failed attempts hold him back. As he lay down to sleep, the whispers of his mother's encouragement from their last conversation played in his mind, bolstering his resolve.

The next morning, Lin woke early, his body vibrating with anticipation. He dressed quickly and made his way to the classroom, his stomach fluttering with nerves. As he pushed open the door, he was met with the welcoming smiles of Jian and Mei, who had already set up their easels in their usual spots. They greeted him warmly, their eyes gleaming with excitement and a hint of the same trepidation he felt.

As the room began to fill with students, Lin noticed the boy and girl from the cafeteria the previous day. They sauntered in, their expressions a mix of boredom and disdain. The boy's eyes flicked over to Lin, and he smirked, while the girl whispered something into his ear that made him chuckle. The tension in the air thickened, and Lin felt his palms grow slick with sweat.

Jian and Mei noticed the exchange, and their smiles faded into looks of concern. "Don't let them get to you," Mei murmured, placing a comforting hand on Lin's shoulder. "Their kind only seeks to bring others down to their level."

"They're just jealous," Jian added, her eyes flashing with a hint of defiance. "Runchu and Beiye are from wealthy families. They've never had to fight for anything. They don't understand what it's like to have a dream that keeps you going through the darkest of nights."

Mei nodded solemnly, his gentle gaze never leaving Lin's. "Remember why you're here, Lin. It's not to impress them or anyone else. It's for you, for your art".

The door to the classroom creaked open again, and the murmurs of the students hushed as Professor Li strode in. His eyes scanned the room before finally settling on the trio. The tension was palpable, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.

"Good morning, class," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. "I see you're all eager to begin. Remember, today is not just about the Art Manifestation. It's about discovering the true depth of your souls."

Professor Li's gaze swept over the students, and when it fell on Lin, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The professor's eyes seemed to pierce through him, as if searching for the hidden wellspring of creativity within. The room grew quiet, the only sound the scratching of brushes against paper and the occasional squeak of a chair.

Jian began her painting, her brush dancing across the page with an energy that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. The illusion she painted grew more vivid with every stroke, the colors leaping off the page as if trying to escape the confines of their two-dimensional prison. Mei's watercolor landscape unfolded with a serenity that seemed to calm the very air around them, the colors blending like whispers of a gentle breeze.

Professor Li moved among the students, his eyes scrutinizing each work with a discerning gaze. His footsteps were silent, almost ghostly, as he offered guidance in a voice that was both soothing and commanding. When he reached Lin, he studied the canvas intently before speaking. "You must let go of your fears, young one," he said, his tone kind yet firm. "Allow the chi to flow through you unimpeded. Only then will your true potential be revealed."

Runchu's smug chuckle pierced the air, and Lin's heart sank. He glanced over to see the boy pointing at his painting with a sneer. "Look at this," Runchu said, his voice carrying through the hushed room. "This is what happens when a peasant tries to play with the brushes of the gods."

Beiye's laughter was like a shard of ice, cold and sharp. It bounced off the walls, making several students look up from their work, their expressions a mix of amusement and pity. Lin's cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he felt the weight of the room's scrutiny on his shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sting of their words. But it was like trying to ignore a raging fire in a dry field.

Professor Li's eyes, however, remained fixed on Lin's canvas. His gaze was piercing, as if he could see the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within the young artist. "Fear is a powerful inhibitor," he said, his voice calm and measured. "But it is also a gateway to growth. Do not let it define you."

With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed Runchu and Beiye's jeers with a stern glare. The laughter died in their throats, and they shrank back, their expressions a mix of surprise and fear. The room fell silent once more, the only sound the soft patter of Professor Li's footsteps as he moved to the next student.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. The sudden clamor of students packing up their supplies was like a dam breaking, releasing the pent-up tension. As they filed out, Jian and Mei lingered by Lin's side, their eyes filled with solidarity. "Don't let them get to you," Jian said, her voice a fiery whisper. "Your art speaks for itself."

They decided to seek refuge under the sprawling jacaranda tree that stood proudly in the academy's courtyard. Its purple blossoms rained down like confetti, creating a carpet of color beneath their feet. The tree was a favorite spot for students to gather, to escape the confines of the classroom and breathe in the outside world.

As they sat down on the cool grass, the shade providing a respite from the midday sun, Jian spoke first. "We've got to come up with something amazing for the Art Manifestation," she said, her eyes shining with determination. "We can't let Runchu and Beiye think they can just push us around."

Mei nodded in agreement, plucking a purple blossom from a low-hanging branch. "But it's not just about proving ourselves to them," he said, twirling the flower between his fingers. "It's about proving it to ourselves.

Lin took a deep breath, letting the scent of the jacaranda blossoms fill his lungs. He looked at his friends, feeling a warmth in his chest that seemed to chase away the shadows of doubt. "You're right," he said, his voice firm. "I'm going to find that connection with my art, no matter what it takes."

As they were talking, Professor Shi and Headmaster Zhao approached them, their conversation trailing off as they neared. "Ah, I see you've found the heart of the academy," Professor Shi said, a warm smile on his face. "The jacaranda tree is said to bring inspiration to those who sit beneath it."

Headmaster Zhao nodded in agreement, his stern demeanor softening as he regarded the trio. "The Art Manifestation is a sacred tradition here at Xinghua," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his years. "It is not just about competition, but about the pursuit of self-knowledge and mastery."

Professor Shi's eyes twinkled with a knowing smile. "And sometimes, it is in the company of friends that we find our greatest inspiration," he added, his gaze flicking to Jian and Mei.

The three of them gathered their things and made their way to the dorm, the conversation shifting to the practicalities of the evening ahead. "We should grab some snacks," Mei suggested. "The Art Manifestation can go on for hours, and we don't want to run out of energy."

They stopped by the academy's convenience store, the shelves stocked with an array of food that was a stark contrast to the simple village fare Lin was used to. The bright packaging and unfamiliar flavors were overwhelming, but the smell of fresh baked bread and the sight of crunchy snacks brought comfort. They picked out a few items, Jian tossing in a bag of spicy dried squid with a mischievous grin, and Mei grabbing a bunch of grapes that looked almost too perfect to eat.

Back in Lin's dorm, they spread their supplies on the floor, the snacks forming a colorful mosaic against the cold, tiles. The walls were bare, save for a few of Lin's early sketches, a stark reminder of the journey ahead. They sat in a circle, their eyes shining with excitement and a hint of fear. "We should start practicing," Jian said, popping a grape into her mouth. "We can't just rely on Professor Li's words. We need to feel it."

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