It was the silhouette of Su Chenyi, effortlessly captured by her pen, with lines that were both stark and melodious, each stroke a testament to a deep comprehension and subtle capture of that exquisite visage. His demeanor, under the interplay of ink and light, was strikingly lifelike, as if it could transcend the page and engage in a wordless dialogue with the onlooker.
Lin Qianxia's heart fluttered, her cheeks tingeing with a blush without her consent. She clutched the sketchbook tightly to her bosom, as if safeguarding a fragile dream. A whirlwind of emotions surged within her: surprise, shyness, and a hint of imperceptible vexation—she had not foreseen that her sentiments for Su Chenyi had seeped so quietly into the fabric of her everyday life, leaving an indelible mark in such an unassuming way.