Chapter 22: MUSE.
"For how long do I have to sit like this?" Hua Rong muttered, shifting slightly in her seat as she glared at Wuhao Li, who was calmly working in front of her.
"Come on, it's only been fifteen minutes," he replied without even glancing up, his voice carrying a lazy amusement. "I had to ask you fifteen times before you finally agreed. And now, after only fifteen minutes, you already want to run away?"
Hua Rong let out an annoyed sigh. She still didn't understand why he had chosen her of all people. It wasn't as if they were friends, and she certainly wasn't interested in being some kind of model for him. If anything, she was convinced he had chosen her just to get back at her—for that day when she had interrupted him and given him a lecture.
"Don't move," he warned when she shifted again.
She rolled her eyes but remained still, crossing her arms. The silence stretched between them, the only sounds being the faint scratching of his pencil against the paper and the occasional murmur of students passing by.
Wuhao Li sat with a relaxed elegance, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. His ash-gray eyes flickered toward her now and then, sharp and observant, before he returned his attention to the canvas.
Hua Rong fidgeted. Something about the way he kept studying her face made her uneasy.
"Are you even drawing anything?" she finally asked, her patience running thin.
Instead of answering, Wuhao Li smirked, his gaze still locked on his work.
Suspicious, she stood up and marched over to peek at his canvas—only to freeze in shock.
It was almost empty.