Nan Qing was feeling indignant that she always lost to Wang Yixuan. She tilted her head and asked, "What am I lacking? All my teachers from childhood to adulthood have said I have a high talent for painting, and everyone praises my paintings. Where am I falling short?"
"Your family is so rich, if I were teaching you to paint, I'd say you have talent too," Wang Yixuan snorted coldly, almost blatantly showing contempt on his face.
Nan Qing's mouth twisted in anger, but the next second she laughed, "I get it, you're willing to teach Fu Han because her aunt and uncle give a lot of money, not because you think she has talent?"
Wang Yixuan's face finally changed. He coughed awkwardly and said somewhat unnaturally, "Smart people leave room for discussion when they speak."
"When you were attacking me, did you leave any room?" Nan Qing retorted childishly, gulping down a whole glass of wine in one breath.
