A week was enough to set a life thrown utterly off course back on track.
Huo Yuhao was far more adaptable than most. Even trapped in the chaos of fractured memories, he forced himself to regain his footing.
The dazed confusion of his first waking faded. He caught up on his art assignments, mastered the color techniques Xiao Meng had helped him work through, and passed his end-of-term makeup exam. At least the danger of failing was behind him.
Life seemed to have returned completely to the quiet routine of an art student on Blue Star: classes, drawing, practice questions, and playful squabbles with Xiao Meng. Everything was whole and steady, without a flaw to be found.
But Huo Yuhao alone knew that a heavy boulder still pressed on his heart. It weighed on him, yet left him hollow, while an ache he could neither name nor explain wound tightly around him.
That fleeting dream of a lifetime on Douluo Continent had not faded when his real life fell back into place.
Scene after scene remained clear and cut deep, like the experiences of an entire life branded into his soul. No mere illusory dream could account for them.
Countless times, Huo Yuhao sat staring into space, trying to sort out what had happened, but he could never grasp the heart of it.
It was supposed to be nothing more than a fleeting dream, a vision born of staying up too late. And yet he could not forget it.
That afternoon, in a figure-sketching class.
The young instructor leaned lazily against the back of his chair at the front of the room and said brightly, "Everyone, today you can draw whatever you like. Any subject, any composition. Just sketch a portrait that appeals to you, and focus on capturing the