"Lu Ang, behave."
Wen Qiao glanced at his hand and remembered the scene she had witnessed when she first entered the art studio. She asked, "Have you studied painting?"
"I studied for a while," Lin Luang answered. "As a child, I couldn't sit still, so my mom sent me to the art studio, and I'd sit there all day."
"No wonder," Wen Qiao lavished praise on him without reserve, "Your painting is really beautiful."
"It's not..." Lin Luang bowed his head, murmuring shyly, "Sister, you don't need to flatter me."
"How could this be flattery? It's genuinely beautiful."
"Then... I also studied oil painting before. One day, I'll paint a portrait for you as a gift, is that okay?"
After Lin Luang finished speaking, afraid that Wen Qiao might misunderstand, he hurriedly explained, "Don't get me wrong, I don't mean anything else. I just think your appearance is very suitable for a model—not that it sounds much better..."
He hung his head in distress.
"Sure."
