Chapter Ten: Sketches

Watching Wu Xiarong, who had already arranged herself in the pose he wanted, Chen Zhe picked up his sketchbook from the folding tray behind the seat. Holding the sketchbook against his stomach with one hand, he twirled the pencil in the other, carefully sizing up Wu Xiarong from head to toe. Occasionally, he paused the twirling, sketching in the air with his pencil.

After estimating the proportions of Wu Xiarong’s head and body, Chen Zhe established her position and movement on the sketchbook. Once he had fixed the placement, he glanced up at her a few more times before starting to outline her figure with simple lines—the shape of her hair, the perspective of her face. He then sketched out her clothes and pants.

When the figure was roughed out, Chen Zhe began to study Wu Xiarong’s face, examining the details with meticulous attention.

“A Zhe, you’re staring at me like that, it’s making me a bit uncomfortable.” After being scrutinized for some time, Wu Xiarong felt her cheeks under the mask grow warm and flushed.

“Sorry, I was just trying to observe the details of your face to make the drawing better.” Pulled from his concentration by her words, Chen Zhe realized how rude he’d been, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

“It’s fine, just keep observing! After all, it’s all for a better drawing.” Hearing Chen Zhe’s explanation, Wu Xiarong’s cheeks beneath the mask turned crimson, her voice faltering.

After Wu Xiarong spoke, Chen Zhe nodded, indicating he understood. He refocused, marking the positions of her eyes and nose. He unconsciously spun his pencil, then began to outline Wu Xiarong’s features on the sketchbook, checking them against her. Since Wu Xiarong was sitting in a half-profile, Chen Zhe paid special attention to the perspective to avoid mistakes.

Once he'd finished sketching her features, he quickly outlined her hair. With this step completed, the initial draft of the sketch was done; next came the detailing.

Chen Zhe glanced at Wu Xiarong again, then began to capture her expression and demeanor, adding subtle emotion to her face to avoid a stiff, lifeless look.

After finishing the brows and eyes, he carefully depicted the mask on her face, deepening the folds to give it dimension.

With the face complete, Chen Zhe exhaled softly, silently marveling at how much his drawing skills had improved—what used to be a troublesome task was now almost effortless. The figure’s posture was a blend of motion and stillness. After drawing the static mask, Chen Zhe began to work on the dynamic aspects—the hand lifting her hair and the drifting strands.

He observed Wu Xiarong’s movements closely and reproduced them perfectly in his sketchbook, even giving her gesture more vitality than the real thing. The wisps of hair seemed to flutter, as if stirred by the wind.

“Hmm, the atmosphere is starting to emerge.” Having finished the head and the hair-lifting gesture, Chen Zhe touched his chin, murmuring to himself, a hint of pride in his tone.

“A Zhe, what are you saying? I didn’t catch that.” Wu Xiarong, unable to hear his quiet muttering, assumed he was speaking to her and instinctively replied.

“Nothing, just talking to myself. Don’t mind it, Xiarong.” Still basking in satisfaction, Chen Zhe quickly pulled himself back and refocused.

“Is that so? Alright, I thought you were talking to me.” Wu Xiarong’s lips, hidden beneath her mask, pursed slightly, showing her faint displeasure.

After checking his sketches of the head and the hair gesture, Chen Zhe began working on Wu Xiarong’s upper body. He used lines to create a sense of perspective, deepening the folds in her clothes as he had with the mask to give them texture and volume.

Finishing the upper body, Chen Zhe breathed out, shaking his head to loosen his neck, which had grown stiff from holding the same position, and shaking out his arm, which felt sore.

After stretching a bit, Chen Zhe moved on to the lower body, starting with her pants, carefully marking the folds, brightening and darkening spots to make the fabric appear three-dimensional, like her clothes and mask.

Once the pants were done, he quickly sketched her shoes, then made overall adjustments to ensure the figure was accurate.

“All done, Xiarong, you can lower your hand now. No need to keep the pose. I just need to imagine a background, and the drawing will be finished.” Seeing Wu Xiarong struggling to maintain her pose, Chen Zhe waved at her, signaling she could relax.

“Really? Let me see!” Hearing Chen Zhe say he was finished, Wu Xiarong, who had grown sore from holding her pose, suddenly perked up. She leaned closer to Chen Zhe, eager to see his work.

“Wait a bit, I’m not done yet. I can’t show you now.” Noticing her movement, Chen Zhe instinctively reached out and pressed his hand to her forehead, his tone gentle.

“Sorry, Xiarong, I didn’t mean to!” Both paused at his unconscious gesture. After a moment, Chen Zhe realized he’d been rude again, quickly bowing and apologizing.

“It’s… it’s fine!” Realizing what had just happened, Wu Xiarong stopped her approach and sat upright again, the blush under her mask reappearing, her voice flustered.

Smiling apologetically at Wu Xiarong, Chen Zhe turned his attention back to the sketchbook and began to ponder the setting. As he thought, his pencil spun unconsciously in his hand—a habit of his, always fiddling with something when deep in thought.

“Sunshine, breeze, summer clothes…” Twirling the pencil, Chen Zhe imagined the scene, summarizing descriptive words, comparing them to places he’d seen, searching for the perfect match between setting and figure.

“Beach? Not right. Shopping street? No… Wait, ancient alleyways—that’s it!” He suggested one scene after another, dismissing each, growing frustrated until inspiration struck. He recalled the old water town’s narrow streets he’d once seen.

And as Chen Zhe’s sudden muttering caught her attention, Wu Xiarong, who was still quietly grumbling and blushing from his earlier gesture, turned to look at him.