Double Life

The third class of the morning was Oil Painting Techniques, held in the art studio on the third floor of the art building.

When Lin Mo arrived, there were still ten minutes before class, and more than half the students were already seated in the studio.

The air was filled with the smell of turpentine and paint. The easels were arranged somewhat haphazardly, and discarded paper for wiping brushes littered the floor.

"Lin Mo! Over here!" a guy waved at him.

It was Zhou Ming, the class clown, and also one of the few classmates Lin Mo could chat with in the department.

Mainly because this guy was also quite lazy, the type who "would rather sit than stand," and in a way, they shared a kindred spirit.

Lin Mo walked over and sat down at the empty easel next to him.

"You're actually here for class today? Did the sun rise in the west?" Zhou Ming winked.

"Here to soak in some knowledge," Lin Mo said with a straight face.

"Get outta here," Zhou Ming leaned forward, deliberately lowering his voice, with a hint of secret excitement: "Hey, did you hear about that thing with Wang Zhenhai?"

"Glanced at it on the news a couple of times."

"Isn't it weird?" Zhou Ming's expression instantly became mysterious. He glanced around before leaning closer and continuing:

"I have a relative who works at the central hospital. They said several patients were rushed in last night with symptoms exactly like those celebrities in the news.

All of them suddenly fell unconscious in the early morning, their brainwaves flatlined instantly, and they were declared brain dead on the spot.

It's just that they were ordinary people, so it didn't make the news."

Lin Mo's heart stirred: "How many in total?"

"My relative said their hospital alone admitted six. Two died, and the other four woke up this morning at the exact same time.

And their physical indicators were ridiculously good, stronger than someone who works out regularly." Zhou Ming clicked his tongue, his face full of disbelief: "Isn't this strange?"

"What did the police say?" Lin Mo asked.

"What else could they say?" Zhou Ming scoffed, mimicking the official tone, word for word:

"'The specific cause is under investigation,' 'We urge the public to remain calm and not to spread rumors.'

The same old lines, my ears are about to get calluses."

Zhou Ming shrugged, "But I have a feeling this isn't simple. Do you think it could be... that kind of thing?"

"What kind of thing?"

"You know, supernatural..." Zhou Ming made a strange gesture, "Like being collectively abducted by aliens for experiments, or accidentally touching some kind of evil curse..."

Lin Mo smiled: "You watch too many sci-fi movies." But in his heart, he thought, it's even more outlandish than that.

As they were talking, a slight commotion suddenly came from the studio entrance.

Lin Mo looked up.

A tall figure walked in.

A simple off-white knit sweater paired with light blue jeans and clean white sneakers on her feet.

Her attire was simple, but on her, it had an indescribable charm.

Because the fitted knit sweater perfectly outlined her breathtaking curves.

The swell of her chest was perky, gently swaying with her steps, the fabric stretched taut as if the buttons might pop open at any second.

Her waist, however, was incredibly narrow, small enough to be encircled by one hand.

Further down, her jeans hugged her round hips and long, straight legs.

She was at least 1.72 meters tall, and with her excellent proportions, she looked like a model who had wandered onto campus.

She wore light makeup, her features bright and elegant, especially her eyes. The corners of her eyes were slightly upturned, always giving people a lazy, half-smiling look.

Su Wanqing.

The belle of the art department, and also Lin Mo's "object of late-night fantasies."

He was quite open about it. She was beautiful, after all. It was natural to appreciate her, to fantasize a little.

He wasn't a sycophant; he wouldn't buy her breakfast, save her a seat, give her gifts, or instantly like and comment on her social media posts.

He was simply... horny.

"Here comes the beautiful Su," Zhou Ming nudged Lin Mo with his elbow, his tone suggestive.

"Hey, didn't you say last time that the female lead in that 'study material' on your hard drive looked a bit like her?

Do you study and... every night?"

"Get lost," Lin Mo cursed with a laugh, "I was doing anatomical research with an artistic eye."

"Researching until three in the morning?"

"That was to deeply understand light, shadow, and texture."

The two bickered in low voices, but their eyes involuntarily followed Su Wanqing's movements.

As she entered the studio, several guys immediately gathered around her.

"Wanqing, good morning! Have you eaten? I bought an extra cup of soy milk."

"Wanqing, that art book you wanted to borrow last time, I brought it!"

"Wanqing, there's a new art exhibition this weekend, want to go check it out together?"

Su Wanqing wore a perfectly fitting smile, her voice soft and gentle:

"Thank you, but I've already eaten. I'll take a look at the art book first. As for the weekend... I might be a bit busy, I'll let you know."

She handled the situation with ease, like a skilled angler whose bait dangles in the water, fish circling around it, but she simply didn't reel them in.

Lin Mo watched her walk to a easel in the front row and sit down. It was her usual spot, with no other easels within three meters, like her own personal force field.

As she sat, her jeans tightened, her rounded curves pressing an arc into the wooden bench.

Lin Mo averted his gaze and took a deep breath.

"Damn, it's killer," Zhou Ming muttered beside him, "That body, that face... Who's the lucky bastard going to be who gets her in the end?"