The students in the room were all dumbfounded.
Then, Professor Sherman let out an anguished cry:
"My painting—"
A long gash had been torn straight down from the top of the scroll. The sight broke Professor Sherman’s heart. He rushed forward to touch the paper, his face contorted in distress.
"Didn’t I tell you to be careful? Just look at this... this tear... I borrowed this from The Calligraphy Association... Oh, you two..." Professor Sherman’s face was ashen with anger as he jabbed his finger fiercely between the two of them.
Joyce Guthrie replied with a guilty expression, "I’m sorry, Professor Sherman. It’s my fault. I didn’t have a firm grip. Please don’t bla Aurora; I lost my balance."
But Professor Sherman was so furious he just roared, "Don’t even think about shirking responsibility! Both of you, co to my office after class!"
Aurora Sinclair pursed her lips, glanced at the painting, and then suddenly began rolling the entire scroll back up.
"Hey? What are you doing? Are you trying to rip it again? Put that painting down—" Professor Sherman strode over in a fury and snatched the scroll from her hands, carefully rolling it up himself.
"Go back to your seats—" Professor Sherman ordered sternly, his face grim. After securing the painting, he took out his attendance book in an extrely foul mood and forcefully drew an ’X’ on it. "Aurora Sinclair, for this sester, you will receive a failing grade!"
Aurora Sinclair froze. Her steps, which had been heading back, halted. Pursing her lips, she turned back toward the lectern under everyone’s gaze.
"What are you doing?"
Aurora Sinclair looked at him calmly and held out her hand.
"What... what else could you possibly want to do?" Professor Sherman clutched the painting, taking two wary steps back.
He looked as if he thought Aurora was about to destroy his painting.
"I can restore it."
"Re... restore it?" Professor Sherman’s expression changed, and he shrieked, staring at her in utter disbelief.
The students in the room erupted into a flurry of discussion, shocked by Aurora’s words.
"Oh my god! What is she saying?"
"Restore *Ten Thousand Miles of Mountains and Rivers*..."
"Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?"
Seth Sterling even pulled out his phone, ready to call his dad for backup to put out this fire.
Just then, Joyce Guthrie jogged over and grabbed Aurora’s arm. "Aurora, don’t overdo it... Even though this is a replica of a national treasure, it’s not sothing just anyone can reproduce. This is a work by Master Flora Guthrie. It’s one of a kind."
Hearing this, the flas of Professor Sherman’s anger flared up again, his chest aching with rage.
This was painted by Master Flora Guthrie herself!
He was a connoisseur of art and particularly loved Master Flora Guthrie’s paintings, so he couldn’t stand seeing her work desecrated. Joyce Guthrie’s words had hit him right where it hurt.
Right now, he wished Aurora would just disappear from his sight. With a trembling hand, he pointed to the door and roared, "Get out—"
But Aurora didn’t move. She just continued to look at him calmly.
"So my words an nothing, is that it? Fine! I’m not teaching this class anymore!" Professor Sherman clutched the painting and stord out.
Hearing this, the students grew anxious and cried out, "Professor Sherman—"
So students even ran to block his way.
"Aurora, don’t provoke Professor Sherman. He has a bad heart..." Joyce said to Aurora with a worried look, then hurried out to chase after the professor.
A flash of annoyance crossed Aurora’s eyes. She pursed her lips, then quickly caught up to Professor Sherman and blocked his path.
Professor Sherman frowned the mont he saw her, turning in another direction to continue walking, but Aurora was always quick enough to block him again.
"What in the world are you trying to do?"
Aurora held out her hand to him again and said calmly, "I will restore it."
"Are you kidding ? Do you have any idea who painted this?"
"I did."
"You painted... what? You painted it?" Professor Sherman’s angry expression froze in shock, his eyes wide.
Joyce Guthrie’s expression shifted. She said softly, "But President Zane Guthrie told himself that this painting ca from Master Flora Guthrie. I saw it last year..."
Professor Sherman instantly flew into a rage. "Arrogant, conceited, and shaless..."
"At position 25 in the bottom-left corner of the scroll, there’s a heavy ink dot from when I accidentally dripped so ink. At position 32 in the top-right, a line is drawn too thick..."
Upon hearing this, so of the anger faded from Professor Sherman’s face. He imdiately unrolled the scroll, had two students beside him hold it, and pulled a magnifying glass and a sheet of grid paper from his pocket, instructing them to slowly reveal the painting for inspection.
These were details Professor Sherman hadn’t noticed before.
"Aurora, you..." Seeing this, Joyce tried to speak again, but Professor Sherman cut her off.
"Quiet!"
More than ten minutes later, he indeed found the discrepancies at the spots Aurora had ntioned. His eyes lit up. He straightened up and looked at Aurora eagerly. "This painting... you really painted it?"
Aurora nodded. "I can paint another one, but my grade..."
"If you can paint an identical copy, I’ll give you a perfect score!" Professor Sherman replied decisively. But he still had his doubts. Although the girl spoke with such conviction, her age made him skeptical.
"Okay. I’ll need paper, ink, an inkstone..."
"We have all of that. Follow ." A spark of anticipation suddenly lit up in Professor Sherman. He whimsically announced to the other students, "This will be a practical lesson. All of you, co with ..."
The students who had run out of the classroom hurried back to pack their things and inform the others. Soon, everyone was following Professor Sherman toward the Academy of Arts, their bags on their backs.
anwhile, the incident of Aurora being reprimanded by Professor Sherman had already been posted on the campus forum by so busybodies, and the comnts were already numbering over a hundred.
[It’s over! The campus belle really stirred up a hornet’s nest this ti! Old Man Sherman is famous for being obsessed with paintings. I bet she has no chance of passing this class.]
[^ What they said. The old man already announced she’s failing.]
[Holy crap! The top student is going to fail a class in her first sester? That’s a huge loss of face.]
[Latest news, the campus belle claims she can restore the painting. Professor Sherman is taking us all to Room 103 at the Academy of Arts.]
[Waiting for the epic face-slapping mont.]
[Pretty people can do no wrong. Our campus belle is just that amazing.]
[That’s a painting by Master Flora Guthrie. There’s a ti and place to simp over looks. The campus belle’s whole persona is about to collapse.]
...
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Aurora Sinclair ground the ink, moistened the brush, and held it poised over the Xuan paper.
Her movents were fluid and seamless, her wrist as steady as a mountain.
Her expression was solemn, as if she were handling sothing precious, causing everyone around her to unconsciously hold their breath.
The longer Professor Sherman watched, the more astonished he beca, a sense of deep respect dawning in his eyes.
Seth Sterling and the others didn’t understand traditional Chinese painting, but they could just tell that what Aurora was painting was beautiful.
Soone had already sneakily taken out their phone and started recording short videos to post online.
More and more students flocked to Room 103, and the noise level began to rise.
Hearing this, Professor Sherman, afraid that anyone might disturb Aurora’s work, had a student next to him lock the door.
The classroom once again fell into an imnse silence, where even the slightest whisper would feel amplified.
Suddenly, a loud noise broke the silence. Everyone jumped and turned to see that a book by Joyce Guthrie’s side had fallen to the floor.
Professor Sherman’s brow furrowed. He was suddenly finding Joyce rather annoying. In a low voice, he warned, "Anyone who makes another sound can get out!"
Joyce’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip.
Aurora, however, seed to have entered a state of complete absorption, utterly undisturbed by her surroundings. Her brush flew across the paper, fluid and natural, as if she held a thousand ravines in her heart and the entire universe in her mind.
The mountains, rivers, and trees taking shape under her brush were so vivid they seed to co to life.
Without realizing it, the onlookers had beco completely srized.
"RRRIIING—"
The bell signaling the end of class suddenly rang.
Only then did everyone realize they had been watching for the entire class period.
Aurora suddenly stopped painting and turned to Professor Sherman. "Professor, I have another class next. Can I finish this after school?"
Professor Sherman blinked. "What class do you have next?"
"Physics Lab."
Hearing this, Professor Sherman suddenly recalled the scene of several colleges fighting to recruit her. He said, sowhat unhappily, "Why are you studying physics? Isn’t this a waste of talent?"
Everyone: ...
’Does he have the guts to say that to the College of Physics?’
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