Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Since I needed half a day to practice gesture drawing, the Friday we’d originally settled on was canceled and moved to Sunday afternoon instead.

That worked out fine. Once I was done drawing, I could head straight to school.

“Wait, I can’t even wear pants? What exactly are you drawing? It’s not something sketchy, is it…?”

Inside the bathroom of the hotel suite, Song Yu poked his head out, clinging to the door as he tried to bargain with me, all awkward and reluctant.

While organizing the files on my tablet, I answered, “You can wrap yourself in a bath towel. It’s gesture drawing.”

Song Yu: “…”

I added, “Just like in that video last time.”

Song Yu: “…You’re calling me out, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

Song Yu gritted his teeth. In the end, he came out with a red face, clutching the bath towel and walking so stiffly he nearly moved his same arm and leg together.

“Tsk. Relax.”

Song Yu said, “How about we switch places and you relax for me, huh?”

Ten minutes later.

I had just stepped half a foot out of the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel when Song Yu shoved me back in by the forehead.

“Ancestor! You’re seriously my goddamn ancestor! Put your clothes back on! I was joking, okay!?”

By the time I came out after changing, Song Yu had finally stopped bargaining.

Though he was flushed from head to toe like he’d been boiled, he did whatever I told him to do. He was just a little too talkative.

“How long have you been drawing?”

I glanced at my watch. “Seven minutes.”

Song Yu: “…”

Song Yu said, “Not this drawing! I mean how many years has it been since you first started learning art?”

I said, “Fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years… So you started learning when you were five?”

“Mm.”

“Then when did you start looking for references? I mean human references, like me.”

“Twelve.”

Song Yu’s expression shifted. He fell quiet for a while, then asked in a strange tone, “Then who did you use as models before?”

“All kinds of people.”

After another long pause, Song Yu asked again, “Then did you touch their pecs and abs too?”

“When I was little, I touched my dad’s.”

Song Yu sighed. “…That doesn’t count. I touched… ahem, let’s not talk about childhood stuff. I mean, aside from family members appreciating each other or whatever, have you touched anyone else?”

“No.”

Song Yu seemed a little surprised.

“You’ve found that many references, and you’ve never touched anyone else’s abs?”

“I’ve touched yours and my dad’s.”

“No one else’s?”

“Mm.”

Song Yu stopped talking. The foot he had set to the side started bouncing restlessly.

After a while, he asked, “I remember your brother has abs too. Why don’t you touch his?”

I was deeply confused, and I looked at his face with extreme disgust.

Song Yu made an OK sign at me and didn’t ask anything else.

Time passed, the afternoon sun slanted west, and Song Yu grew more and more relaxed. His poses also became increasingly open and pleasing to the eye. Since I still had to guide him through the poses, I ended up drawing more than twenty gesture sketches over the course of the afternoon.

That was about enough.

“Let’s call it here for today. Thanks for your hard work.”

Song Yu looked intrigued. “You actually know how to say polite things like that?”

Then he came over. “Let me see your drawings. Let’s see if you captured even one ten-thousandth of my handsomeness.”

I pulled up the image files, then handed the tablet to Song Yu.

Looking at the first one, Song Yu said cheerfully, “Not bad, not bad. As expected of an artist with fifteen years of training.”

Looking at the second one, Song Yu said in confusion, “They look good, sure, but why don’t any of these have heads? Was it too much trouble?”

By the time he reached the last one, Song Yu flew into an impotent rage. “Wait, is my face that ugly? Why didn’t you draw my head!? Am I nothing more than an ab reference to you!?”

I said, “Huh? What else would you be?”

At that, Song Yu’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Lin Xi! You-”

“What?”

Song Yu said nothing, just huffed and puffed with anger. In the end, he stomped his foot, shoved the tablet back into my hands, and headed to the bathroom to change.

I hurriedly called after him.

“Wait.”

“What!?”

As I put the tablet into my bag, I explained, “I didn’t finish feeling your pecs last time, so I might as well do it now. Saves us the trouble later.”

Song Yu looked like he was about to cry. Finally, he shouted, “The point is to trouble you later!”

With that, he went into the bathroom without looking back.

???

Who made him mad?