Xiao Han stood solemnly in front of the rice paper, holding a brush, his face thoughtful.
Everyone hardly dared to breathe as they watched Xiao Han, their hearts throbbing with anticipation. What kind of earth-shattering painting skills did the man, whom even the King of Chu City sought to learn from, possess? This moment was about to reveal it all.
Time trickled by, but Xiao Han had yet to lift his brush. No one urged him, understanding that creating a fine painting required time, at the very least for planning.
As time inched forward, Mr. Deng could barely stand still. He could not help but glance at Xiao Han, wondering what this young teacher was pondering.
"Are you going to paint or not?" Su Muqing furrowed her brows, unable to restrain herself.
Among those present, after the King of Chu City became his disciple, she was the only one who dared to speak to Xiao Han this way.
