"Why can't I paint like this?!" Zhen Yu looked at Han Mingyue with amusement and said, "There's no hard and fast rule for painting. You should paint however you want! As long as it sells, it's a good painting!"
Hearing her say this, Han Mingyue couldn't help but laugh along.
He suddenly realized that his previous thinking might have been constrained.
"Seems like I should learn more from you, after all, painting is like this, and isn't writing the same?"
"Let's not talk about your novel for now!" Zhen Yu said, waving her hand after putting on her socks, "Let's discuss this painting first. Are you satisfied with it, Mr. Great Writer?"
Under her intense gaze, Han Mingyue nodded solemnly, "Hmm! I'm very satisfied! It's just that..."
Zhen Yu widened her eyes, "Just what?"
"Just, this painting... you couldn't have finished it in just one morning, right? How come I've never seen you paint it?"
