Will's wife had originally been sizing up the room's decor and speculating about Will's personality traits. When she turned her head, she saw Will petting the dog. She immediately broke out in a cold sweat, and her face turned pale. She quickly pulled Will back.
"You don't want your hands anymore?!"
The artist's hand was very precious. If it was really bitten by a dog, even with the current medical technology, what if? What if he couldn't recover completely? What if I can't draw everything in my mind?
It was rare for Will's wife to get angry, but they were in someone else's house after all, so it wasn't appropriate for her to say too much. After pulling Will over, she had a bellyful of things to say. When she saw Fang Zhao come out with a bag of items, she forced a smile, but it was much stiffer than before.
After Will and his wife left, Fang Zhao looked at Curly Hair. "Will doesn't seem easy to get along with, but he doesn't have any ill intentions."
Curly Hair wagged his tail and whimpered.
Fang Zhao knew what it meant. He patted its head and said, "Alright, you did well today. Go and play."
As soon as he said that, the little thing ran over, skillfully put the dog's head into the game helmet, and started playing.
This dog's gaming addiction was getting stronger and stronger.
Next door, after Mr. and Mrs. Will returned to the house, Will's wife began to scold him for his inappropriate behavior.
"Touching a dog you're not familiar with! Have you forgotten the past? "
When Will was young, he had been bitten by a dog because of a prank by his peers. His injuries were a little serious, but he recovered well. Because Will had specially protected his arm, it did not affect his painting after he recovered. His leg injury took a little longer to recuperate, but it had also recovered. New Era medical technology was formidable, and the dog that had bitten was a small pet dog. If it had been a big dog like the ones in Muzhou, if it had really bitten, Will would have had a hard time surviving.
That was why Will usually kept his distance when he saw a dog. He was even more vigilant when it came to unfamiliar dogs. In comparison, his behavior today was very unexpected.
Will seemed to be confused as well. "I just think that the dog is very special. It gives me a very strong feeling."
"What do you feel?" asked Will's wife, surprised.
Will frowned. "I want to touch it."
Will's wife: "…"
Seeing Will's confusion, his wife asked tentatively, "Do you want a dog?"
Will replied without hesitation, "No, pets are too troublesome."
He couldn't even take care of himself, let alone a dog? Furthermore, this wasn't his home, so he couldn't leave everything to the servants and housekeeper.
"I don't care if you want to raise it or not, but don't even think about the dog next door. Let's not talk about whether or not Fang Zhao will sell. Even if he does, you won't be able to afford it. " Will's wife continued her attack. "I checked. Fang Zhao's unassuming dog is valued at 200 million by an authoritative magazine! The money you earned from selling your paintings was used to buy antiques a few days ago because you said you wanted to study the painting techniques of the ancients. "
In the face of such a realistic question, Will was stunned for a moment before he said, "The old man's words are indeed very reasonable."
"What did your dad say?" Will's wife asked curiously.
"He didn't say that to me. He told my cousin that painting requires constant effort to improve and constantly break through. Otherwise, even a dog can't afford the price of a painting."
Will's cousin liked to use money to measure the value of a painting. When he was young, he learned to paint to sell. He had talent, but he didn't work hard enough. That was why the old man said those words to provoke him.
Most of Will's paintings were sold for tens of millions of yuan. Apart from a small number of famous masters, it was difficult to find someone who could compare to him. But it still wasn't enough to buy Curly Hair.
"Indeed, if I don't work hard, I won't even be able to afford a dog!" Will looked at his own hands and lamented.
Will's wife: "…" No! The old man's words were definitely not referring to a dog worth 200 million!
Will's wife couldn't help but ask, "You just touched a dog worth 200 million. Did you feel anything special?"
"I want to paint."
Will seemed to come back to his senses as he said this. He reminded himself and walked toward the studio.
However, when Will sat in front of his drawing board and picked up his brush, he froze.
He couldn't paint.
He had no idea where to start!
His desire to paint had been so strong, but when he sat down, he realized that his mind was a mess. All his inspiration seemed to have lost control and couldn't be sorted out!
How could this be?
Will was at a loss.
Whether it was people or other matters, Will had his own way of presenting them. But when he decided to paint something, even if the image in his mind wasn't clear, there would always be some moving lines and colors. But now, it was completely different. Not to mention lines and colors, his mind was a dense fog! It was as if everything was hidden behind the fog. Nothing could be seen clearly!
Will put down his brush and closed his eyes in deep thought.
Two hours later.
Deep thought was fruitless.
When Will's wife came over, she saw Will frowning at the blank drawing board. He looked like he felt wronged that he couldn't paint.
Based on past experience, this was a problem. If he couldn't find a way to solve it, he probably wouldn't even have the appetite to eat.
Will's wife knocked lightly on the door. Seeing Will look over, she asked, "What's the matter?"
"I can't paint that dog."
"Can't paint it?" Will's wife looked at the blank drawing board. She didn't really understand, but she knew Will's way of thinking. After some consideration, she suggested, "You can paint Fang Zhao first. Just paint the scene next door. Fang Zhao was sitting on the sofa and Curly Hair was lying at his feet. Starting from Fang Zhao might help you paint it a little."
Will felt that this method was feasible. It wasn't that he couldn't paint a dog. He just couldn't paint the dog next door. Since that was the case, he could try starting from the dog's owner. Perhaps he would have clear inspiration when he painted.
With this thought, Will picked up his brush and started drawing on the drawing board.
However, after a few strokes, he stopped.
He couldn't continue.
There was no way to continue.
In fact, the more he painted, the more confused his mind became.
It shouldn't be like this.
The confusion in Will's eyes was even more pronounced than before. Not only could he not paint a dog, he couldn't even paint a person he was good at!
In the end, Will decided to shelve this task for now. Then, he changed his study plan for the advanced course and submitted a new study plan to the instructors.
The teaching methods of the advanced course's teachers were different from those in school. Teachers didn't tell students what to do. Rather, they told students what they wanted to do, and they would help them achieve it.
That was why there was such a study plan. It allowed the instructors to understand the advanced course's goals and direction of effort. Only then would they provide targeted guidance and get the most professional people to impart skills and experience.
Will's new study plan didn't change much, but he changed the two most important items.
— — —
During the advanced course, my short-term goal is to paint Fang Zhao.
My final goal is to paint Fang Zhao's dog.
— — — —
Seeing this revised study plan, the instructors of the painting and calligraphy course: "???"
Fang Zhao didn't know about Will's dilemma. He had obtained the first week's schedule and was ready to welcome Will for his advanced course.
The schedule of the class was not fixed. Only the most recent week's schedule could be fixed. The lecturer was not fixed either. Perhaps this Master was free this week and would give a few more lectures. The next week, another Master would give a lecture. Whoever was free would give a lecture.
Every advanced course's schedule was different. Their major was different, and their schools of thought were different. Naturally, the instructors would be different.
The schedule wasn't tight. Most of the time was given to the advanced course's students to choose. They could find a great master to discuss problems with during their spare time, or they could study by themselves in the library or other places. If they wanted to create in seclusion, they would have to submit an application in advance.
Fang Zhao's first class in the Twelve Tones advanced course was a group class. Students from various disciplines such as painting, calligraphy, dance, and music attended the class together. Besides the new students from this batch, there were also students from previous batches who hadn't left. There were close to 30 people in total.
It wasn't that the students from previous batches hadn't met the graduation requirements, but rather that they had collaborations with some instructors that hadn't been completed yet. Once they were done, they would naturally leave.
As a new student, Fang Zhao's first class wasn't to listen to the instructors but to listen to the seniors from previous batches talk about their current research projects. It was to provide a reference for those who didn't have a clear understanding of their own position. It allowed them to think: What do you want to do in the future? To what extent can you walk?
From other people's point of view, it was very strange for Fang Zhao, who was in his twenties, to call someone over a hundred years old senior brother or senior sister. But in Twelve Tones, this sort of thing was all too common. When the next batch of advanced students entered, no matter how old they were, they would still have to call Fang Zhao "senior brother."
When it came to Fang Zhao, who was the youngest advanced course's student, other people would surely feel it was unfair and a little emotional at the start, but they were all people of status and had certain accomplishments in their own fields.
The path of art was a form of cultivation, and cultivation was also the cultivation of the heart. Their thoughts should be on self-improvement, and not on how to spend time on how to be jealous. That would not be able to be fixed.
The reason academic masters didn't like people who were too business-minded was because they didn't like to place their thoughts on things other than art. As for the private lives of advanced students, they didn't have high expectations.
Thus, after everyone had adjusted their state of mind, Fang Zhao received care and concern from his seniors as well as his fellow students during his first group class.
Outside the classroom, a few instructors were also observing this year's four new students. Among the four, Fang Zhao was the one they understood the least, and he wasn't a disciple of an artistic family that they were familiar with.
An old man looked at Fang Zhao in the classroom and asked the person beside him, "Is it that kid?"
In the eyes of these people whose average age was over 120 years old, Fang Zhao, who was in his twenties, was just a kid.
"Yes, Xue Jing brought him along on his global lecture tour. Mo Lang also thinks very highly of him," another teacher said.
"No wonder Mo Lang said he would come over to Twelve Tones to give a few lectures after his break ends."
"Whether he really has the ability or not, we will know when the class starts. Just from what we can see now, Fang Zhao indeed has talent and talent. He doesn't have that kind of impetuosity that is influenced by greed. To be able to do this at this age is already not easy. "
It really wasn't that these people were purposely focusing on Fang Zhao's age. If it was an outsider sitting here, they would also stare at Fang Zhao.
Because looking at the seats in the classroom, Fang Zhao was too conspicuous, like a grandson sitting in a group of grandfather-level figures.
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