Beneath Senior Liu Qin’s mature, cool-older-sis exterior lay quite a few quirks. When dealing with younger juniors, she’d occasionally blurt out risqué jokes or suggestive remarks that sparked wild imaginations.

Even though Qi Yan had been caught off guard by her teasing whispers countless times before, his face still flushed crimson under Liu Qin’s assault. He stammered, utterly at a loss for words.

Wu Tongming, unable to watch any longer, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ahem… Xiao Liu, this is a school. We should maintain proper decorum. We’re all adults—mutual respect matters."

"Hahaha! Got carried away in the excitement, forgot where I was!" Liu Qin laughed heartily, slinging an arm around Qi Yan’s shoulders like a rowdy bro. They swaggered out of the principal’s office together.

The moment the door closed, Liu Qin’s expression turned dead serious. She placed both hands firmly on Qi Yan’s shoulders. "Xiao Yan, Principal Wu is actually a huge fan of Master’s. That’s why he’s being so accommodating. When he heard you two are Master’s grandchildren, he immediately approved your sister’s unconditional enrollment. He’s always wanted to collect one of Master’s paintings. But you know how it is—Master rarely sold his work. He only gifted them. After his passing, their value skyrocketed like rockets."

"Because they became… posthumous works?"

"Mm. Countless artists fade into obscurity in life only to be celebrated after death. Master was one of the luckier ones. After he passed, even his harshest critics fell silent, scrambling to issue public apologies."

"Well, the dead command respect! No one’s dumb enough to shit on a grave and end up covered in filth themselves. Though I bet the main family’s grinning ear to ear. Grandpa didn’t leave many paintings, but if managed well—gifted to officials, used to mingle with elites, auctioned off—the profits would set them up for life."

"Hmph? Jealous, little brat?" Liu Qin pinched Qi Yan’s cheek, grinning.

"Who wouldn’t be? If Mom and Dad had left me some inheritance or property before they passed, I’d be a real-life anime protagonist. But… money you earn yourself sits easier in your pocket."

"Right, where was I? Ah—Principal Wu’s been dying to collect Master’s work. So, I want you to paint him a landscape later as a thank-you gift. You’ll have free time while Xiao Ran takes her exams anyway."

"Fine. But I didn’t bring brushes, ink, paper, or an inkstone. I’d need to go home first."

"Relax. All that’s been prepared."

"Uh…"

Qi Yan felt a prickle of unease. Was Senior being *too* prepared? It reeked of a setup. But she had no reason to trick him. One painting for his sister’s tuition-free enrollment? A no-brainer deal.

Was he just riding on Grandpa’s coattails? The thought gnawed at him. He wanted people to remember *his* art—not Qi Lei’s. Yet Grandpa’s style, techniques, and spirit were etched so deep into his bones they’d tangled his own brushstrokes beyond recognition.

That contract signed two years ago seemed like a windfall—studying under Qi Lei wasn’t an opportunity anyone got.

But in truth, he’d sold his entire future as an artist. His paintings no longer belonged to him. Wherever he went, they’d always bear Qi Lei’s shadow.

A petite figure came sprinting down the corridor. Su Shiyu’s face was flushed like a ripe apple as she grabbed Qi Yan’s arm, panting. "Huff… huff… Senpai! I finally escaped homeroom teacher’s claws and hawk-eyes! You must’ve missed me terribly, right?"

"Not even a little."

Su Shiyu let out an adorable, wounded whimper. "Nya~! Senpai, you’re so cruel! After all those things you did to me that secret night…"

"You two," Liu Qin cut in, "stop spouting lines that make people overthink! You’re girls, not middle-aged perverts."

"We’re just adding color to boring daily life, right, Qin-jie?"

"Yellow color?" Qi Yan deadpanned.

"Better than boring green, don’t you think… Xiao Yan?" Liu Qin arched a delicate eyebrow, her smile loaded with meaning.

Qi Yan couldn’t argue back—he wasn’t *that* kind of guy.

Seeing him flustered, Su Shiyu triumphantly flashed a victory sign.

After teasing her junior, Liu Qin got down to business. She strode back into the principal’s office. "Principal, we’ve settled it."

"Then let’s begin! I’ve waited so long for this." Wu Tongming rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming. "Years ago, during my training in the provincial capital, I saw reproductions of Elder Qi Lei’s masterpieces! But I never got to witness an original. Today, my dream comes true!"

"Eh? Painting already? Chinese ink painting? Let me grind the ink for Senpai!" Su Shiyu completely ignored the principal, claiming a corner of the desk. She fiddled with the ink dropper and rectangular inkstick, pouring a few drops of water into the inkstone. Gripping the inkstick, she began grinding slow circles.

In moments, the rich scent of ink filled the air.

Modern painters preferred bottled ink—quick and convenient. Premium bottled ink wasn’t inferior to hand-ground; sometimes it was even better. But grinding ink carried a certain *feeling*, a depth that seeped into the brushstrokes. Some landscape artists refused to paint without it.

Qi Yan unrolled two sheets of rice paper on the desk—one for the final piece, one for rough drafts. He weighted down the corners with paperweights to keep them from fluttering.

He lifted a wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, and boldly wrote a single character—"One"—on the draft paper. A test: checking for split bristles, testing Su Shiyu’s ink consistency—too thick? Too thin?

The stroke was smooth, even, flawless. Both passed.

Qi Yan trusted Su Shiyu’s ink and pigments. Despite her loose tongue and troublemaking streak, when it came to serious work, her focus was absolute. No half-measures.

Qi Yan mapped the composition in his mind first. Whether manga, illustrations, or landscapes—knowing exactly where every element belonged on the paper was crucial.

Once he started a landscape, Qi Yan never paused until it was finished. A habit drilled into him by Qi Lei’s relentless discipline.

Memories of DongSui Town flashed through his mind like film reels—the bike ride with his sister days ago. Verdant hills, flowing streams, arched bridges, temple roofs, bustling streets… and his sister’s smile.

In Chinese painting, Qi Yan excelled only at landscapes. Figures? Animals? Weak points. But the Qi School’s legacy was landscapes—he’d mastered that much. He hadn’t pursued Chinese painting for passion anyway. That contract bound him.

Whether he loved it or hated it, Qi Yan treated every stroke, every piece, with unwavering respect. Never half-hearted.

Time dissolved as Qi Yan painted. He didn’t even notice Su Shiyu dabbing sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

Only when he lifted the brush, exhaling a long breath, did he instinctively pat his pockets for his name seal.

"Crap. Forgot my seal." Panic edged his voice.

Without the artist’s crimson seal stamp, the painting wasn’t truly complete.

Qi Ran—who’d somehow finished her exam and slipped back into the office—silently pulled an ivory-white seal from her backpack and placed it in his hand.

"Eh? Xiao Ran, how’d you bring my seal?"

Qi Ran just winked playfully, saying nothing.

"Never mind. Must’ve slipped into your bag by accident."

"Senpai, your seal looks so cool every time! I wish I had my own personal seal too!" Su Shiyu cradled her cheeks, starry-eyed.

"I carved this jade one myself. If you want one, carve your own! You’re good with your hands."

"But I’m scared of knives! So sharp… what if I cut myself? Senpai… will you carve one for me? Pleeease?"

"Ugh, fine. Maybe when I have time."

"Promise? If you break your promise, you owe me ice pops for a whole year!"

"No backing out. No backing out."

A year of ice pops? Qi Yan figured he’d be down to his underwear.

Hearing Su Shiyu casually lock in a deal, Qi Ran pouted slightly.

Qi Yan pressed the seal into red ink paste, then stamped it firmly into the corner of the landscape. Done.

"Excellent! Excellent! Full of spirit!" Wu Tongming beamed, studying the painting. "Who’d have thought DongSui Town’s ordinary hills and streams could yield such a stunning piece? With this skill, you’re more than qualified to be our art teacher here at Eastgrain Middle School! Welcome aboard, young man. Help shape our students’ futures. I’ll call you Xiao Qi from now on—feels more familiar."

"Eh? Principal Wu, art teacher? I never agreed to—"

Liu Qin thumped Qi Yan hard on the back, cutting him off. "Xiao Yan! What are you saying? Today’s for Xiao Ran’s enrollment *and* your hiring paperwork!"

"Besides, Senpai," Su Shiyu chimed in, "if you work here, you can look after your sister every day. If she gets bullied, you’ll be there to protect her right away. Her situation is… delicate. She could easily get isolated. If she feels lonely or helpless and you’re not there…" Her voice dropped. "She might relapse. Might never stand up again."

"Uh…"

Each word struck Qi Yan’s heart like an arrow. But Uncle Zheng’s workshop…

He turned. Qi Ran stood tugging his sleeve, tears welling in her eyes. Her silent plea hung in the air: *Stay with me, Brother. I’m scared to be alone at school.*

"Mmph…"

One second of struggle. Qi Yan bowed deeply to Wu Tongming. "Please… let me work at your school, Principal."

The deal was sealed. Qi Ran’s humanities score—208—had been graded during Qi Yan’s painting session. Solidly mid-to-high tier, enough to place her directly into Grade 12… though only in a standard class.

It was a practical choice. The accelerated class had a two-month head start from summer cram sessions. The standard class was just beginning review—better for Qi Ran. The principal promised she could transfer to accelerated if her grades improved. Qi Yan had no grounds to object.

Especially since Qi Ran and Su Shiyu were in the same class. That eased his mind.

By the time all paperwork was done, noon dismissal bells were ringing. Qi Yan and Qi Ran stood outside the school gates, ready to head home.

"Late welcome, Xiao Ran. Brace yourself—Grade 12 hell awaits."

Qi Ran wrote in her notebook:

*Late welcome to you too, Brother. Should I call you Brother-Teacher or Teacher-Brother now?*

Qi Yan felt like he’d boarded a pirate ship. But for his sister’s sake? No regrets.

"Just ‘Brother’ is fine. ‘Teacher’ is extra."

*Then… is Brother all I need?*

"What do you mean, ‘all I need’—"

*Ding-ding-ding!*

The dismissal bell drowned his words. A tidal wave of students surged toward the gates. Qi Yan grabbed his bike, pedaling away before the crowd swallowed him. At home, that unsettling question was never raised again.