I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

A gust of wind followed Zuo Yin into the examination hall. The vast classroom flickered with the surprised gazes of students; no one expected anyone to cut it so close to the final second for such an assessment, let alone that the person would be the top student of this year’s Oil Painting Department.

Standing beside Zhou Lin, Sun Yuqing’s delight was palpable. She nudged Zhou Lin’s arm and whispered triumphantly, “I told you! Xiao Yin would come! You owe me a barbecue dinner, don’t forget!”

“Name the time,” Zhou Lin replied, looking up at Zuo Yin standing in the doorway.

The girl looked as if she had sprinted the whole way. Her jaw-length hair was disheveled by the wind, and her shoulders, draped in a thin jacket, heaved violently with every ragged, heavy breath.

Under everyone’s gaze, Zuo Yin walked into the room. Among those countless eyes, she cared only for the pair that resembled peach blossoms.

In a moment of silent understanding, Shen Qingzi’s eyes crinkled. Under Zuo Yin’s gaze, she gave a gentle, satisfied smile. She smoothed her skirt slightly and stood up. The silk sleeves of her blouse, which had been pushed up to her forearms, slid down, the lantern-sleeve design perfectly concealing the wristwatch she had checked so many times.

Shen Qingzi raised her hand and pointed toward an empty easel in the last row by the window. “Your spot is over there.”

“Okay,” Zuo Yin nodded, forcing herself to swallow a gasp of air caught in her throat. She didn’t want to show any lack of decorum in front of Shen Qingzi—though, in truth, she probably felt she wasn’t “proper” enough already.

This minor stir ended abruptly with the alarm Sun Yuqing set for the start of the exam. Under the watch of Shen Qingzi and Sun Yuqing, Zhou Lin took the test topic from an envelope and placed it on the projector.

The topic for the studio assessment was: Garden.

“The examination time is three hours. Unfinished works are permitted; do not rush for speed,” Sun Yuqing reminded them.

Zuo Yin wasn’t wearing glasses, so she squinted slightly to see the two simple words on the screen. No limit on medium, no limit on expression—just a canvas and a palette of paints. Holding the brand-new brushes provided by the studio, Zuo Yin felt as though this topic had been tailor-made for her.

The word “Garden” instantly brought to mind Shen Qingzi’s The Girl in the Conservatory. Those intricate, blooming clusters filling the canvas, so exquisite and vivid they seemed to overflow.

Sunlight poured across the floor by the window. Shen Qingzi stood to the right of Zuo Yin’s field of vision, merging with the light. her black hair took on a golden hue, making her look exactly like the wavy-haired girl in that painting.

Zuo Yin watched, momentarily dazed, as the flowers from Shen Qingzi’s oil painting bloomed into her vision. She gripped her brush and used the finest tip to outline a single flower on the canvas. Call it overconfidence or a display of incompetence, she simply wanted to show her best side to Shen Qingzi. Since the painting she had poured her soul into could no longer be gifted to Shen Qingzi, she would use this painting as a replacement.

Perhaps she was too focused on the work, for Zuo Yin didn’t even notice when the click-clack of heels behind her stopped.

Shen Qingzi leaned against the pillar of the wall behind Zuo Yin, her arms crossed, quietly admiring the garden the girl was sketching. As the brush in Zuo Yin’s hand meticulously shaped the petals, Shen Qingzi watched the soft, progressive colors unfold, and ripples of emotion stirred in her eyes.

Zuo Yin had chosen the Mucha style, which Shen Qingzi knew best. Although this piece lacked the extreme detail of the painting Shen Qingzi had acquired, the style was remarkably similar.

Ochre tones mixed from yellow, vermilion, and violet were boldly used in the blooming flowers. The girl skillfully conjured the despair and hope suppressed within the deep reds. Such color expression was magnificent.

A rare look of surprise filled Shen Qingzi’s eyes. Looking at Zuo Yin’s back, bathed in sunlight, she noticed that the girl’s short, sharp hair remained pitch black, unyielding to the warmth. This child always seemed this way—like a lone wolf in the desert, solitary and perpetually lonely.

Shen Qingzi suddenly remembered the first time she saw Zuo Yin in that folk bar a month ago. She had sat down beside her, draped in a darkness deeper than the night, and the hand encircling her waist carried a chill that even the scorching sun of Dunhuang couldn’t warm. Only when they embraced, skin to skin, could she feel the warmth in her, and catch the lingering ambiguity in those dark pupils.

“Jiejie…”

An inexplicable warm breeze seemed to carry Zuo Yin’s voice from that night into Shen Qingzi’s mind, brushing against her ear. An indescribable pink flush instantly bloomed on her delicate skin. Shen Qingzi blinked unnaturally, feeling she shouldn’t look at Zuo Yin any longer. She instinctively touched her burning earlobe and continued her rounds.

The golden second hand ticked past every Roman numeral on the dial, circling tirelessly. After the minute hand had completed nearly three slow revolutions, the hour hand finally moved from “9” toward “12.” Less than five minutes remained.

In the hall, the rows of canvases were a riot of brilliant summer gardens. In this sea of brightness, Zuo Yin’s work was the outlier. It wasn’t finished, but the prototype was there. At the bottom of the canvas, clusters of exquisite flowers released eerie, magnificent colors. They struggled out of the darkness, yet they did not yearn for the sun; they bloomed only in the shadows.

After all, in this world, not everyone longs for the light.

Thinking this, Zuo Yin picked up her finest brush and, as was her habit, left her mark in the bottom right corner—a stroke of gold blended into the petals, a free-spirited, abstract letter “y.”

That single stroke made Shen Qingzi, standing not far behind her, catch her breath.

The painting she kept in her private collection had the exact same golden mark in the bottom left corner!

This child really was the author of that painting!

Shen Qingzi remained composed on her high stool, but her heart was in a state of upheaval. Though many clues had pointed to Zuo Yin, and she had suspected it herself, the confirmation hit her with full force.

That such a sophisticated work was created by a nineteen-year-old girl. That the person she felt such a soul-deep connection with was the same girl she had shared a fleeting night of passion with. “Fate playing tricks” didn’t even begin to cover it.

As Sun Yuqing’s phone rang again, the assessment ended. The serious room filled with chatter and instantly became lively. Zhang Zhang and Xu Xu left hand-in-hand, their laughing eyes completely ignoring Zuo Yin.

Zuo Yin didn’t care. Her gaze instinctively fell on Shen Qingzi, who was talking to Zhou Lin at the front. Those clear eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, a gentle smile seemingly reserved for everyone around her. Zuo Yin remembered seeing Shen Qingzi with Zhou Lin like this before. They must be very good friends.

An indefinable feeling rose in Zuo Yin’s chest. She wanted to go up and ask what Shen Qingzi meant by her words yesterday—to prove she was a “unique choice”—but she feared she was overthinking it. She kept her mouth shut and continued packing her things.

Sun Yuqing walked back in and waved to her. “Xiao Yin, come out for a moment.”

“Oh.” Zuo Yin noticed the unnatural expression on Sun Yuqing’s face.

“How was your performance today?” Sun Yuqing asked.

“Okay,” Zuo Yin replied.

“I knew you’d come. You have to seize such a good learning opportunity, right?” Sun Yuqing smiled. “Once you’re in the studio and studying with the teachers, you’ll definitely shine.”

Zuo Yin gave a hollow smile but didn’t respond. She only wanted one teacher—Shen Qingzi. No one else was worth losing her earnings over.

Seeing Zuo Yin’s joyless face, Sun Yuqing struggled to find the right words. She forced out the sentence that made even her feel embarrassed: “I went to the HR department again. Regarding your part-time work… you’ll have to wait a bit longer. They haven’t found a suitable position yet. I’ll keep pushing them. Just focus on your studies for now.”

Zuo Yin asked, unwilling to let go, “Wasn’t it said there were part-time jobs available?”

“There are a few girls from the second and third years who are more experienced, so they were considered first,” Sun Yuqing explained. “It’s okay. Teaching assistant roles like the one you’re looking for will be in high demand once the winter intensive starts. The pay will even double then.”

Hearing this, Zuo Yin’s heart went cold. Her lips pressed into a thin line. It was only September; the intensive was three months away. Even if the pay doubled then, she didn’t know if she could last that long. The thought of having to bow her head to Zuo Lan made her clench her jaw even tighter.

Sun Yuqing patted her shoulder. “Don’t be discouraged. I think students will start coming in for early prep in about two months. I’ve already had a word with HR; no one will cut the line next time.”

“Thank you, Miss Sun,” Zuo Yin forced a bit of gratitude into her voice and turned back into the examination room.

The students were all gone. The empty classroom held only Shen Qingzi, standing at the podium. Zuo Yin glanced over the easels at her, then quickly looked down again. Her mood was low. If she couldn’t find work here, she’d have to look elsewhere. Even if she became Shen Qingzi’s student, juggling both might eventually mean sacrificing one side. And she didn’t want to sacrifice either.

An eerie silence filled the room. The rows of easels were like mountain ranges, separating Shen Qingzi and Zuo Yin into two different worlds.

On one side, Shen Qingzi stood in the warm sunlight, her beautiful hair cascading down, the picture of peace. On the other, Zuo Yin picked up her canvas bag to leave without a word. She belonged to the lightless mire; she shouldn’t have hoped for anything.

She slung the bag over her shoulder and tucked her hair behind her ear, her face void of expression. The burst of passion that had brought her here had vanished, replaced by her usual icy coldness.

Clack.

Just as Zuo Yin’s foot touched the threshold of the door, a clear, resonant voice rose above the vibration of the frame and reached her ears with perfect clarity.

“Zuo Yin, come to my private studio.”