Shen Mo subconsciously stepped back, pulling himself tightly into Sheng Yiyang’s embrace, his eyes trembling with unease.
Sheng Yiyang soothingly rubbed his hand and looked up at the kindly old man. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
The old man smiled and waved a hand, looking at Shen Mo with a benevolent expression. "Young man, it looks like you're interested. Would you like to give it a try?"
Shen Mo looked at the old man for a moment. Sensing no malice, he raised his gaze to Sheng Yiyang, blinked, and looked somewhat tempted.
Sheng Yiyang patted Shen Mo's head. "Go ahead if you want to. I'm right here."
Clutching Sheng Yiyang's hand, Shen Mo took slow, halting steps toward the old man. Realizing that Shen Mo had some sort of issue—something beyond mere shyness—the old man good-naturedly stood up and stepped away from his chair.
Shen Mo sat down, looked at the drawing on the easel, glanced at Sheng Yiyang, and then back at the old man.
Sheng Yiyang understood instantly. He carefully removed the old man's painting, while the old man took a fresh sheet of paper from his art bag and handed it to Sheng Yiyang.
"Thank you," Sheng Yiyang said, his gaze softening as he looked at Shen Mo.
Imitating the old man, Shen Mo picked up a paintbrush, hovered it over the paper, and then looked doubtfully at Sheng Yiyang.
The old man smiled and said softly, "Painting is just about drawing whatever you like, however you feel."
Shen Mo blinked, looked back at the old man behind him, and then at Sheng Yiyang. What did he like? He liked Sheng Yiyang.
His brush moved across the paper as smoothly as flowing water.
Shen Mo was fully focused, his eyes following the tip of the brush. Stroke by stroke, a handsome face miraculously emerged against the surrounding pitch-black background. That face stood out with striking brilliance, especially the eyes, which seemed dotted with starlight.
As the old man looked at what Shen Mo was creating, he glanced at Sheng Yiyang, and much became clear to him.
This person was the light that dispelled the darkness in that child's heart!
Sheng Yiyang didn't understand the artistic meaning behind the painting; he only thought that Shen Mo had drawn him looking ridiculously cool! Coating the background in black was just because the old man had used a lot of black earlier, and Momo was simply following suit!
When he finished, Shen Mo put down the brush and looked somewhat anxiously at Sheng Yiyang, only to find the man's eyes brimming with joy, their sparkling brilliance outshining the portrait itself.
He instantly relaxed, his eyes curving into crescents, the corners of his lips turning up as a small dimple appeared on his fair, tender cheek.
"Aah, Momo, you look so pretty when you smile—and you even have a little dimple!" Sheng Yiyang wrapped Shen Mo in a bear hug, reaching up to poke his dimple.
Shen Mo blinked, staying obediently still and letting Sheng Yiyang prod his cheek.
The old man felt as though he could see pink bubbles floating all around the two of them. He gave an awkward, dry cough, then pointed at the drawing and asked, "Young man, would you be willing to give this painting to this old man?"
Before Shen Mo could answer, Sheng Yiyang was the first to object. "No, no, can't give it away! This is drawn for me by my Momo! Even though this paper and brush are yours, I'll pay you for them."
The old man wasn't in a rush; he just looked at Shen Mo.
Shen Mo hugged Sheng Yiyang, glanced at the old man, shook his head, and quickly buried his face back into Sheng Yiyang's chest, looking rather shy.
The old man smiled helplessly, packed up the canvas, rolled it up, and handed it to Sheng Yiyang. "Well, if you won't give it to me, then consider this painting my gift to the two of you."
Sheng Yiyang raised an eyebrow. "..."
How did it suddenly become a gift from *him*? This was clearly drawn by his Momo!
The old man's attention clearly wasn't on Sheng Yiyang. He looked at Shen Mo, his tone carrying a coaxing hint. "Young man, would you like to learn how to paint? I'm a professor in the Fine Arts Department at Imperial Capital University. If you're willing, I'll take you as my disciple!"
Shen Mo didn't speak; he only tightened his grip around Sheng Yiyang.
Sheng Yiyang soothingly patted his back, glanced at the old man, and his eyes flashed. "Apologies, but could we leave contact information? If he's willing, I'll get in touch with you."
The old man nodded in pleasant surprise.
Anyone could tell at a glance that this young man was painting for the very first time. To be able to express what was in his heart so quickly showed absolute, undeniable talent. It was about time he took on an apprentice to show off to those old fogies.
Just as Sheng Yiyang was adding the old man's contact info to his phone, a small figure came sprinting toward them. Before the person even drew near, a loud shout rang out, "Ah, Big Bro—you're still here!"
Startled, Shen Mo gave a shudder and had just stood up from the chair when Sheng Yiyang scooped him straight into his arms.
Sheng Yiyang glared at the boy with cold eyes, his voice dripping with chill. "If you ever roar and howl like that again, I swear I'll smash your mouth to pieces!"
He hadn't earned his reputation as the school tyrant for nothing!
The boy looked awkward. "Don't be like that, Big Bro, my bad. I didn't mean to scare him. Who knew he was such a scaredy-cat..."
That last part was muttered under his breath.
Sheng Yiyang shot the boy a glare before looking down with deep concern at Shen Mo.
Tucked safely in Sheng Yiyang's arms, Shen Mo looked at the boy with wide eyes. While he might have been startled by the noise at first, now that he could see the person properly, curiosity took over.
The boy grinned broadly at Shen Mo, flashing a row of neat, white teeth.
Shen Mo watched him, blinked, and then—mimicking the boy—flashed a wide, toothed grin of his own.
The boy was stunned, while Sheng Yiyang was overjoyed, finding the boy suddenly looking a lot more pleasing to the eye.
"Whoa—did you draw this? So cool! Can you draw one of me too?" The boy's round eyes rolled. He had already figured out that if he wanted to stay on good terms with his Big Bro, he definitely needed to get along with this little brother. With that realization, he darted over to Shen Mo's side, instantly mesmerized by the deeply colored painting.
Shen Mo's eyes lit up as he looked at Sheng Yiyang.
Sheng Yiyang looked at the old man and asked, "Is that alright?"
The boy turned to the old man and praised Shen Mo without reservation, "Grandpa Gong, his drawing is prettier than yours! Can the little brother use your easel to draw me?"
Sheng Yiyang paused slightly. So they knew each other.
Elder Gong had been wanting to see Shen Mo draw another piece anyway, so he readily agreed. He had Yu Zimo sit down properly, then offered Shen Mo a few pointers on painting techniques, such as how to hold the brush.
For the first drawing, Shen Mo had painted purely from the heart, copying some of Elder Gong's movements along the way. Elder Gong had spotted those habits at a glance and was now using the opportunity to offer a bit of guidance.
Shen Mo blinked without speaking, his gaze fixed entirely on Elder Gong.
Elder Gong knew he was listening.
After finishing, Elder Gong shifted back a little, clearly noticing that Shen Mo's entire body had relaxed.
Elder Gong shook his head with an amused smile. The only thing that could make this child completely relax was the person standing right behind him, guarding him like a shadow.
Shen Mo was intensely focused when he drew, as though he had immersed himself in his own world, painting something that belonged to him alone.
Even when Yu Zimo shifted impatiently in front of him, he suddenly caught sight of something and froze, terrified to move a muscle.
Sensing something, Sheng Yiyang turned his head and saw that two men had appeared beside Elder Gong. One was tall and handsome, while the other was slender with deeply affectionate eyes.
The two newcomers noticed him as well and nodded in greeting. Just as they were about to speak, Sheng Yiyang shook his head at them.
A sudden voice might startle Shen Mo.
After another moment, Yu Zimo finally lost his patience and muttered, "Little brother, are you done yet? My butt has gone numb!"
Shen Mo added the final stroke and nodded at him.
As if granted a pardon, Yu Zimo let out a long sigh of relief, sprinted over to the canvas, and stared at the drawing with his jaw hanging open in amazement.
The colors in this piece were somewhat brighter than the one of Sheng Yiyang; the background wasn't an oppressive pitch-black, but rather tinged with a soft grey. In the center of the painting, a boy was walking toward the viewer from a distance, clutching a basketball.
It was almost as if Shen Mo felt the boy's world was bright, whereas his own was not, and by blending the two together, this was what it had become.
"Dad, Papa, look at this! Isn't this cool? It's me!"
The boy's delighted voice made Shen Mo realize there were two more people nearby, and he subconsciously tightened his grip on Sheng Yiyang's hand.