Oh No, the Divorce Variety Show Is About to Get a Total Makeover!... (continued)

His smile froze on his face, but he still forced himself to stay calm.

He had to be the best painter among them. Even if Elder Zeng didn't appreciate his work, things couldn't get too awkward.

But as Elder Zeng passed Wen Feiran, a casual glance rooted him to the spot. He even forgot to lower his raised foot.

He stared fixedly at Wen Feiran's painting, his brows furrowing even more deeply. His gaze was sharp, his expression grim, and he kept shaking his head in disbelief.

Elder Zeng's upper lip trembled twice before he managed to find his voice. "This..."

Those words pulled Wen Feiran back to reality. He looked up blankly and met Elder Zeng's eyes for a few seconds before realizing what he had done. He hurriedly reached out to cover the painting.

But Elder Zeng reacted faster, pressing it down first. "Did you paint this?"

Wen Feiran wanted badly to say no, but lying on camera would have been too stupid. He could only keep his mouth shut and pretend to be mute.

Elder Zeng didn't care about his attitude. He lifted the painting with trembling hands, undisguised appreciation in his eyes.

Eager to show off during this segment, Duan Haoran cut in. "Elder Zeng, he's never studied traditional Chinese painting, so his painting isn't very good..."

"It's wonderfully painted!"

The two voices overlapped, but their assessments were completely different, making the scene comical. Duan Haoran froze.

What? Elder Zeng had ignored him but praised someone else's painting!

How was that possible? He was a famous painter!!

For a moment, he thought something was wrong with his ears. Disbelieving, he strode over.

The moment he glimpsed the edge of the figure on the xuan paper, his heart sank.

Not only had he lost completely, but his painting wasn't even worthy of being compared with it.

Elder Zeng paid Duan Haoran no attention at all and exclaimed excitedly, "With just a few strokes, you've not only captured the bamboo's upright strength but also its spirit. This is definitely beyond me!"

Wen Feiran's scalp went numb. He badly wanted to snatch the painting back, but he didn't dare lay hands on Elder Zeng. All he could do was force a stiff smile. "You flatter me."

Elder Zeng hated this kind of modesty most of all. He looked at him sternly. "There's no need for falsehoods. Comparing the two of us, I'm the one who looks like he's showing off his technique. How embarrassing. And I even dared to call bamboo my companion for half my life."

"..." Wen Feiran frantically waved his hands, cold sweat pouring down his face. He wished he could travel back half an hour and knock himself out with a punch.

Daring to paint like this on camera—wouldn't that give him away?!

At the thought of what he would face if his other identity were exposed, his vision went dark. So anxious he nearly bit his tongue, he said, "How could I possibly be compared to you? Please give it back. I still need to change a few strokes."

"There's no need to change anything. Any more changes would be like adding legs to a snake." Elder Zeng was adamant. He beckoned to the other guests. "Come and tell us whose painting is better."

Nobody present had expected this turn of events. They looked at one another, not daring to make a sound, though their expressions were quite something.

Hearing this, they immediately crowded around. Not only did Wen Feiran fail to get the painting back, he was also squeezed out.

Elder Zeng had spent his whole life painting. Whether in brushwork or technique, he was more accomplished than Wen Feiran. That was something that required years to develop, and Wen Feiran could not compare with him in that regard. But Wen Feiran's painting had more of the bamboo's spirit.

That was something he had absorbed while studying under his teacher, and it was also the most precious thing.

The others didn't dare speak up out of social consideration. Only Su Shangting glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "It's just average."

"About the same as my dad's collection."

The viewers in the livestream were already discussing it like mad, and Su Shangting's words caused an even greater stir.

[With Su Shangting's family background, only paintings by masters could make it into his family's collection, right?]

[Didn't you see the news? Just last week, his dad bought an ancient painting at auction for an almost astronomical price.]

[My mind is blown. Elder Zeng could be called the best bamboo painter of our time. How old is Wen Feiran? How could he possibly surpass him?]

[What's the name of the person who painted this, anyway? Was there someone like that among the guests?]

[His name is Wen Feiran. This is the last time I'm explaining it. Don't push it. The livestream has been going for three days, and you still can't remember his name.]

[Hahaha, look at Duan Haoran's expression. As expected of a great artist, it's so artistic.]

[Whoa, he actually lost to a complete unknown. How can he stay in the art world after this?!]

Elder Zeng looked Wen Feiran up and down. "Are you still a student? You've never sold a painting or taken part in an exhibition?"

Wen Feiran: "..."

Of course he had sold paintings. At first, nobody had been interested even when he priced them at a hundred. He had worked at it for a long time before he could finally sell them for a decent price.

He trembled as he held his secret identity tightly in place. "No, I've never sold one. As for exhibitions, I don't know... no, I've been to one."

"What a shame." Elder Zeng didn't see through his poor acting at all. He gave a long sigh and clapped Wen Feiran hard on the shoulder. "By the way, can you tell me who your teacher is? How can I paint the spirit of bamboo?"

Wen Feiran: "..."

He couldn't very well say that he had once been abducted to perform quick-transmigration missions, that his teacher had been the greatest bamboo painter, and that it was all thanks to his teacher's excellent instruction.

Afraid he would be taken for a madman, he could only swallow his grievances. "My teacher has passed away. As for how to paint the spirit of bamboo, I can't explain it in a few words."

He hinted desperately, hoping Elder Zeng would let him off. Elder Zeng finally understood and put down the painting.

Elder Zeng regarded painting as paramount. No worldly ethics or conventions mattered to him, and he did things in a very unconventional way. "I'll take you as my master. You must give me a few pointers."

"..."

"..."

"..."

How could I possibly be worthy?!

Wen Feiran was almost ready to fall to his knees. "I've never been a teacher. I don't know how to teach. No, I haven't..."

In his anxiety, he bit his tongue. He pressed his lips tightly together, doing his utmost to control his expression, but his eyes filled with tears.

Like an old child, Elder Zeng kept pestering him. "Age and seniority aren't a problem. If you don't teach me, I won't be able to rest in peace when I die."