Translator: ChuRen/ YuQiChen
Si Nuo suddenly woke up with a start, his body chilled and faint dizziness lingering from slight oxygen deprivation.
His sudden movement startled Zhang Yu, who had his back turned, leaving him momentarily shocked as he turned around to see Si Nuo leap out of bed and rush to the bathroom.
Zhang Yu instinctively followed and heard the sound of vomiting from inside. “Si Nuo, are you okay?”
That didn’t sound good at all.
Remembering how Si Nuo had passed out on the bed before, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but feel anxious. “Do you want to go to the hospital? Don’t try to tough it out, okay?”
Si Nuo emptied his stomach and weakly sat on the floor. His face, pale to the point of looking bloodless, seemed even more translucent under the light.
It felt as if he might vanish from sight any second.
Zhang Yu stepped in, seeing no response, and nervously reached out to check Si Nuo’s breath.
Fortunately, Si Nuo opened his eyes and gave him a glance, his voice hoarse. “I’m fine. I felt better after throwing up a lot.”
He didn’t mention being scared by a nightmare that caused his stomach to cramp—it was too embarrassing to admit.
Seeing that Si Nuo could still speak, Zhang Yu’s worry eased a lot. “I’ll get you some hot water. Wait here.”
With that, he shuffled out in slippers and soon returned with a cup of warm water.
Si Nuo reached out and gratefully accepted it.
After drinking, his stomach felt much better.
Zhang Yu squatted in front of him. “Are you sure you’re really okay? Maybe you should still get checked at the hospital.”
“No need. It’s the medication’s side effects. Just have to bear it. Help me up.”
At his words, Zhang Yu reached out and helped him to his feet.
Coming out of the bathroom, Si Nuo sat on the bed, reflecting on everything he had seen in the dream.
The man’s gaze was cold and void of warmth, yet so real that it felt like he was truly looking at him.
Remembering it now still made Si Nuo’s heart flutter wildly.
That dream had been far too vivid.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit? Your face looks awful.” Although Si Nuo insisted he was fine, Zhang Yu felt like he could faint any second.
This time, Si Nuo didn’t dare fall asleep again—afraid that if he did, that nightmare would continue, and he might really be scared to death.
Desperately needing to calm down, he pulled out the chair at the desk and took out his sketchbook.
After sharpening a pencil, Si Nuo began to draw.
His mind wandered a little; he just wanted to do something to quiet himself. His wrist moved mechanically until suddenly Zhang Yu exclaimed behind him: “Whoa—Si Nuo, who’s this?! That’s way too realistic!”
Zhang Yu’s shout snapped Si Nuo back to reality, and he suddenly realized he had unwittingly drawn the man from his dream.
The grim, murderous gaze seemed as if it were about to burst out of the paper any second.
“Si Nuo, you’ve been hiding this talent deep! How come I’ve never heard you say you could draw so well? That guy Ren Ju brags about his gift, but his junk art isn’t even worthy of wiping your shoes. If Old Zhao saw this drawing, he’d probably freak out. Is this what you’re planning to submit for the sketching assignment on Friday?”
Zhang Yu was so excited he practically danced around.
Si Nuo shook his head with a complicated expression. “No, this isn’t it. I was just doodling.”
Saying that, he peeled the paper off his drawing board, about to tuck it away in the drawer, when Zhang Yu grabbed his wrist: “Wait, let me admire it some more.”
Zhang Yu hijacked the drawing, and Si Nuo rubbed his nose bridge, reflecting on how he had unconsciously painted that man.
The gaze from the dream had left too deep an impression.
Zhang Yu stared at the drawing for ages, increasingly amazed. “Si Nuo, did you ever learn to draw before? This is seriously amazing. How come I never heard you say anything? That’s not cool!”
Si Nuo couldn’t reveal the truth to Zhang Yu, so he replied, “Now you know.”
Zhang Yu chuckled and didn’t press further, just thinking that Si Nuo’s previous modesty would soon lead to a surprise: “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Once you submit this, they’ll be scared stiff!”
Knowing Zhang Yu misunderstood the situation, Si Nuo just smiled silently, took back the drawing, and put it into the drawer. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Back on the starship returning to the Capital Star, Guan Xingchen suddenly opened his eyes. The shifting aura around him caused the adjutant standing by his side to sense a heavy killing intent.
“Your Highness, what happened?”
Guan Xingchen waved his hand with a dark expression, signaling not to say more.
Yet the murderous aura around him did not dissipate.
He was well aware that someone had just entered his dream.
As the empire’s only 3S-level spiritual power user, such an intrusion had never occurred before—no one would dare to recklessly invade his mental world.
But, he was certain: not only had that person appeared in his dream, they had witnessed everything that happened within it. Who on earth was it?
“Investigate whether a new 3S-level spiritual power user has emerged within the empire.”
Faced with Guan Xingchen’s sudden command, the adjutant stepped out without hesitation.
No matter who it was, intentional or not, they had to be found.
Guan Xingchen stared grimly at the sword hanging in the distance behind him—as if a fierce giant fish leapt from the water, emitting a low hum.
Si Nuo carried a bucket in one hand and gripped paintbrushes and paints in the other, a drawing board strapped on his back as he approached the low wall.
Looking across at the fiery red maple forest, his gaze was full of anticipation.
Though he could see the maple treetops over the wall, the low barrier blocked most of the scenery.
Si Nuo wanted to paint the entire maple forest, which meant he had to climb over the wall.
Carrying all these things, climbing the wall felt somewhat impractical—but giving up wasn’t an option.
He had thought about painting the maple forest for a long time, and today offered a perfect day for it.
With all his painting supplies ready, he was determined not to return empty-handed.
Though the area across belonged to the top military academy, this maple forest was largely a separate patch—few cadets ventured here.
According to the original owner’s memories, there should be an iron gate nearby.
Si Nuo followed along the low wall, and before long, behind a thicket, he indeed spotted an old iron gate, worn and rusted from many years of neglect.
A gleam of joy appeared in his eyes. He hurried over, leapt across the bushes, and reached the gate. Trying the heavy iron door, it groaned loudly as it surprisingly swung open.
It seemed even fate was on his side.
Without hesitation, Si Nuo climbed over the gate.
With no low wall obstructing his view, the complete maple forest before him was like a living painting.
He didn’t venture too deep, uncertain whether a reckless entrance might attract attention.
After all, this was not like his diploma mill university campus.
Setting down the bucket, he propped up his drawing board. The eager, impatient urge to paint was something he hadn’t felt for many years.
Calming his mind, Si Nuo looked up at the nearby maple forest, observing it carefully. Then, he started to put colors on the paper…
Lu Cen leaned pale against a tree, a tearing sensation in his spiritual sea making him feel as if death was imminent.
He was at a crucial moment, about to ascend from level A to S. After upgrading, his spiritual sea would expand by half and his combat power would improve.
But the process was painful and risky.
Many had died at this critical juncture in previous years—if one couldn’t make it through, death was the only outcome.
The pain from mental disorder caused him to see double. Feeling unwell, he attempted to go to the infirmary, but halfway there, the symptoms flared up again.
Now, whether he could live to reach the infirmary and receive emergency treatment was uncertain.
In the distance, he faintly saw a person standing nearby. Lu Cen opened his mouth to call for help, but no sound came out.
He shook his head, struggling to get up. He couldn’t just give up and die here.
His life was only beginning!
Driven by sheer will, he made his way toward the figure but found no one—only a drawing board leaning by the low wall.
Lu Cen’s pupils contracted in despair.
Staggering forward, Lu Cen reached the drawing and locked his gaze onto the sketchboard the moment his eyes caught it.
The shattered turmoil in his spiritual sea seemed as if it had been struck instantly. His vision could no longer tear away from the drawing.
The tearing pain gradually subsided, and even the long-dark, obscure realm of his spiritual sea was warmed by the colors of the painting.
He had never thought the maple forest was so beautiful.
In that instant, he felt as if he had stepped into the painting himself.
At that moment, he forgot the agony brought by his mental disorder; deep within, there was only tranquility and warmth.
Like soaking in warm waters, drifting with the breeze, a gentle warm wind caressed his face—everything was so peaceful and beautiful.
His eyelids slowly closed, and Lu Cen didn’t realize when he drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, he was already on a bed in the infirmary, surrounded by his instructor, doctors, and classmates.
“Lu Cen, you’re awake. How do you feel?”
He was silent for a moment, feeling no pain. The previously shattered spiritual sea was now calm as if nothing had happened.
Yet his spiritual grade had leapt substantially, and the breakthrough from level A was near.
“I feel… good?”
His voice was hoarse and carried a hint of uncertainty.
The doctor by his side smiled. “We just examined your body and found that you were previously in a state of mental disorder. If your friend hadn’t saved you in time, it would have been dangerous. Luckily, it ended without harm. Your grade also shows signs of breakthrough—consider it a blessing in disguise. I’m prescribing some sedatives for the mental disorder. If this happens again, take them promptly—it’s best to do so.”
Meanwhile, Si Nuo had been abruptly called over by Zhang Yu—Old Zhao suddenly lost his temper, threatening to deduct credits from everyone who skipped class.
He never expected that even in this interstellar era, teachers still scared students with credits.
There was no time to tidy up his drawing board. Si Nuo hurried back and only after sitting down did he understand why Old Zhao was so angry—the reason was simple: when he arrived for class, the classroom was empty.
Only seven students in total—and not a single one showed up.
Who could put up with that?
Si Nuo arrived not too late, but even so, his poor physical condition left him gasping for breath, his vision darkening in waves, and a metallic sweetness lingering in his throat.
Zhang Yu saw his pale face and said, “Where did you go? I just opened my eyes and found you were gone.”
Si Nuo was too exhausted to speak; the discomfort in his body hadn’t passed, so he just shook his head.
Seeing this, Zhang Yu quickly reached out and patted his back. “Are you really okay?”
Si Nuo blinked hard and nodded. “I’m fine. I went sketching.”
“Where? You didn’t go to the maple forest, did you?” Zhang Yu obviously hadn’t forgotten what Si Nuo said last night.
“Yeah… don’t say more, Old Zhao is looking this way.”
With the last student arriving, Old Zhao surprisingly didn’t scold anyone but said, “Since none of you come to class, each of you must draw ten still-life pieces and hand them to me. No leaving until you finish.”
After saying this, Old Zhao turned and left.
The classroom instantly erupted. “Ten?! Is Old Zhao crazy?”
“It takes me half a day to finish one! How am I supposed to leave today if it’s ten?”
“I thought when Old Zhao told us to sketch, we wouldn’t have class today. I hate Zhao Chunsheng more than anything!”
“Enough complaining, better get to work!”
As soon as Ren Ju spoke, someone said, “Ren Ju, you’ve got no problem. It’s us who are doomed.”
Ren Ju had studied art since childhood and naturally became their leader because his skills exceeded theirs.
Zhang Yu glanced at Si Nuo and smirked secretly.
Si Nuo caught his look and smiled softly, whispering, “Let’s get to work.”
Sketching still lifes was nothing difficult for him.
The pencil touched the paper, his wrist moved smoothly, and with a few simple strokes, a circle appeared. Then he looked up briefly before drawing a cone shape beside it.
Even though Zhang Yu had already seen Si Nuo’s drawing skills firsthand last night, seeing him draw again now still made him want to exclaim, “Wow, what a pro!”
Just one glance, and he nailed the proportions and placement so precisely?
The still-life objects Old Zhao assigned weren’t difficult: a sphere and a cone.
After finishing the first drawing, Si Nuo simply copied and pasted the remaining nine.
“My arm is killing me! When will this ever end?”
“My hand is covered in pencil grime, it’s so dirty I feel like I could practice iron palm techniques!”
“Ren Ju, how many have you finished?”
Ren Ju: “Not many, just five.”
“You’ve done five? I’m only on my second.”
“I haven’t even finished one yet. Feels like I’m going to live here today.”
Zhang Yu wiped his hands, swapped a sheet, and glanced at Si Nuo beside him who had already finished ten and was packing up.
“Are you heading off?”
“My drawing board’s still outside—can you hand these to Old Zhao for me later?”
Passing the ten completed still lifes to Zhang Yu, Si Nuo bent and left through the back door.
The others noticed him get up and exclaimed in surprise, “Zhang Yu, Si Nuo’s leaving? Not finishing?”
Zhang Yu looked at the drawings Si Nuo had completed. “Ah, he went to the bathroom.”
Better not tell them he was done already—wouldn’t want them to get all unsettled.
Just then, Old Zhao came in holding a cup of water.
He immediately noticed someone missing and pointed to Si Nuo’s empty seat. “Where is he?”
“Zhang Yu said he went to the bathroom.”
Zhang Yu hurriedly explained, “No, teacher, Si Nuo finished. The drawings are with me. He wasn’t feeling well, so he left early.”
“Finished already?” Zhao Chunsheng paused, then reached out his hand. “Let me see.”
Zhang Yu stood up, handed over the ten finished drawings by Si Nuo to Zhao Chunsheng, then returned to his seat.
The person who had just spoken whispered immediately, “Si Nuo really finished? Could he be just doodling?”
Zhang Yu rolled his eyes. “Do you think he’s you or something?”
“I still don’t believe it. It must be fake. Si Nuo isn’t Ren Ju. How could he draw so fast?”
“I think he’s just doodling. Didn’t you notice Old Zhao hasn’t said a word all this time?”
While they were talking, Ren Ju gripped his pencil tightly, eyes locked onto Zhao Chunsheng sitting before him.
He couldn’t believe Si Nuo had finished so quickly without any issues.
He was sure Si Nuo was just faking it.
Meanwhile, Zhao Chunsheng looked at the ten still life sketches in his hand—almost like carbon copies—and was full of astonishment.
He knew the level of this batch of students well enough. Si Nuo was usually a weak, low-profile person, suddenly revealing such skill.
Even he hadn’t expected this.
And yet the still lifes, regarding shape, proportions, and shades of black, white, and gray, were flawless.
If it were him drawing, he might not have done as well as Si Nuo.
“Teacher, is Si Nuo just faking it?”
“Yeah, if he’s faking, you should criticize him and deduct his credits. Why should we be here drawing seriously while he leaves early?”
Zhao Chunsheng sneered. “No matter how serious you are, you can’t draw like this. Si Nuo did very well. Pass these drawings around for everyone to see.”
Zhang Yu lifted his chin proudly, beaming with satisfaction. Silly them—they don’t know how awesome my brother1as in his good bro, not actual brothers is.
One by one, the drawings were passed around. What had originally seemed like shocking praise from Zhao Chunsheng made everyone widen their eyes. Even if their own drawings weren’t good, they could tell the difference between good and bad work.
Immediately, someone whispered, “I feel like this is even better than Ren Ju’s work.”
“Si Nuo really kept his skills hidden deep.”
“Don’t just say that. Give me a day, or even a few years, and I might still never be able to paint like this. Did Si Nuo learn before? I heard he’s an orphan.”
“That must be pure talent!”
Ren Ju clenched the still life sketch belonging to Si Nuo tightly, fire burning in his eyes. Impossible!
Si Nuo had no idea how much of a shock his still life sketches had caused among the others.
Leaving the art studio, Si Nuo went straight to get his drawing board.
Fortunately, no one approached or touched his belongings.
He left exactly as he had arrived, packed up his things, and headed back to the dorm with his gear on his back.
What surprised him was that Zhang Yu had returned early.
Seeing him, Zhang Yu immediately pounced excitedly: “Si Nuo, did you know? Old Zhao just finished looking at your drawings and immediately passed them around for us to see. And do you know how sour Ren Ju’s expression was at that time?”
“Also, after seeing your drawings, Old Zhao probably figured even if we kept drawing, none of us could match your level, so he just let us go.”
Si Nuo hadn’t expected that—it was somewhat unexpected.
Now Zhang Yu spotted the rolled-up painting in his hands and reached out: “Is this the maple forest painting you did? Let me see!”
Si Nuo didn’t hesitate and handed it over.
Zhang Yu unfolded the paper, revealing a vividly colored watercolor painting.
The maple forest blazed across the page in fiery reds. At first glance, it was as if a flaming red maple forest was swaying with the wind right before your eyes.
Zhang Yu stared at the painting, motionless for a long time.
Si Nuo set down his things, turned back, and saw Zhang Yu still standing there.
“Not done looking? Is a maple forest really that beautiful?”
Zhang Yu looked up, eyes sparkling with obvious awe.
“Si Nuo, your painting is just incredible. I don’t know how to put it, but looking at your work, I feel like I’m actually standing inside a maple forest, the breeze brushing my face, the vivid red leaves rustling with the wind…”
Seeing Zhang Yu so enchanted, Si Nuo couldn’t help but wave his hand in front of him. “What kind of dreamy nonsense are you talking about? Wake up—it’s just a painting, not some magical thing.”
After saying that, he snatched the painting back from Zhang Yu’s hands, rolled it up casually, and stuck it into a nearby painting tube.
Zhang Yu immediately protested, “That’s too rough! Aren’t you going to frame it? Honestly, I think your painting’s better than those masters’ works!”
“Stop praising me, if you keep it up, I might just float away!”
Si Nuo chuckled and turned to go to the bathroom. His hands were filthy with paint and graphite dust.
After Si Nuo left, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but glance again at the rolled painting carelessly stuffed into the tube. He genuinely felt the maple leaves in the painting were alive.
While Si Nuo was showering, he was thinking: with a body like his, if he wanted to make money, he had to do something that didn’t require physical strength—and that probably meant only painting. He’d have to pick up his old skills again.
He resolved to look online later for potential commissions or opportunities.
Meanwhile, Lu Cen was being helped back to the dorm by a friend.
Throughout the way, the friend kept nagging: “Man, you sure are lucky. When I found you lying on the ground, I thought you were dead — but you were just asleep!”
Lu Cen gave him a look. “Did you notice anything unusual when you found me?”
“Unusual?” The friend pondered, then said, “Wait, I think you had a drawing board in front of you. You didn’t go to paint, did you? You actually paint?”
Lu Cen stared at him. “Did you see that painting?”
“What painting? I was too scared of you lying there to even look at anything. No, you really paint?”
“I wouldn’t be painting anything if I wasn’t nearly falling apart inside. I was hoping to get help from the painter, but when I got there, the person was gone. There was only one painting—a maple forest. The moment I saw it, my shattered spiritual sea became calm, as if I was inside the painting. My heart felt peaceful like never before, the spiritual sea was serene and comfortable, and I wanted to sleep. Do you understand what I mean?”
The friend shook his head and touched Lu Cen’s forehead. “You’re not feverish at all. What nonsense are you spouting? You’re even learning to appreciate art now?”
Lu Cen pushed him away seriously. “I’m not feverish. I’m perfectly clear-headed right now and my spiritual sea has never felt better. That painting is definitely something special. If you saw it, you’d understand!”
“Is it really that magical? Better than mental disorder sedatives?”
“Mental disorder sedatives just forcibly knock you out. Whether you improve after waking is pure luck. But once you see that painting, you’ll understand what I mean. Come with me to the maple forest now—let’s see if that painting’s still there. Maybe we can even meet the artist!”
“But the doctor said you should get proper rest. Can you stop pushing yourself?”
“My intuition says we can’t miss that painting. Hurry up!” Lu Cen said, already taking off toward the maple forest.
But when he got there using his memory, the painting was nowhere to be found.
“Look at the time. Even if someone is painting here, they’d have packed up and left by now.”
Lu Cen kept staring at the low wall nearby. “If someone was painting here, they’re probably from the school across the way. Not sure if it’s a teacher or a student, but we have to find them.”
His friend, noticing Lu Cen’s serious expression, said oddly, “I really think you need to rest. You’re talking nonsense now. Even if someone on the other side painted it, how do you plan to find them?”
Lu Cen turned and headed back. “I’ll think it over. I’m sure there’s a way.”
His friend shook his head, thinking Lu Cen might be losing it.
With his head down, Lu Cen pondered all the way back. The first thing he did was log onto the neighboring school’s website and post:
[REWARD: 20,000 for a painting of a maple forest!]
His friend leaned over to his screen. “You’re serious? You could do something better with 20,000! You want to buy a painting?”
“That’s not much money. The artist might not even sell. If that painting really can cure mental disorders, what do you think it’s worth?”
For the first time, his friend looked at Lu Cen seriously.
If the painting truly could heal mental disorder, it would indeed be priceless.
Lu Cen’s solemnity sparked his own hope.
Author’s note:
Guan Xingchen: Wife, paint me!
No reuploading anywhere else.
Support the author 灰剑如羽 by buying chapters on jjwxc!!
Your ko-fi donations would be greatly appreciated.
If you don’t know what to read next you can try these out
After leaving the entertainment industry, the Ge’er became famous for his embroidery skills
[Quick Transmigration] The Paranoid Villain is Coveting the Beautiful Cat Again
I’m currently translating these novels as well~
Ko-fi goals? Extra chapter release once we reach our goal!!
