Chapter 11: Thematic Painting

The selection contest was scheduled for April 18th. They hadn’t arrived particularly early—reaching Zou City on the 17th, with the competition beginning the very next day. The event required participants to create their artwork on-site, and word had it that the children’s channel from the local television station would be filming.

Mu Yin was largely indifferent to such things. After the apocalypse, she’d often faced cameras and the public. She had, after all, been a leader of a base with over one hundred thousand inhabitants, frequently watched and thanked by the residents because her unique abilities had sustained many lives.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t managed to preserve her base in the end. Some died in battle, but most perished as the planet began to collapse and break apart, falling into fissures. Only a few with special skills or powers were given the chance to cross into another realm and become seeds for the future.

Remembering those days, Mu Yin’s expression grew heavy. Zhou Qi thought she was nervous and said, “Don’t worry, even if you don’t get a good ranking, it’s all right.” Zhou Qi didn’t have high expectations anyway; she knew her daughter had only learned a bit from school and her art teacher.

“I’ll do my best,” Mu Yin replied. How else could she hope to stay in the city? She wanted to search for those hidden hands lurking in the shadows.

The competition was held outdoors, primarily because there were so many participants—about a hundred. They could choose to paint at a table or on an easel. Those who had studied art from a young age naturally opted for easels, but Mu Yin chose a table.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t paint on an easel. In the later stages of her ability, she’d basically painted in midair with brushes conjured by her powers, and she was actually more accustomed to that. Still, it didn’t fit her persona; she’d only learned a little under an art teacher’s guidance, and the rest was self-taught. The table suited her better.

If the artists lacked their own supplies, they could collect them from the organizers. Perhaps this was out of consideration for different family circumstances—whether economic or geographical, not everyone could bring their own tools. The organizers were thoughtful.

Mu Yin, too, went to collect a sketching set. She was actually more skilled at traditional painting, since the brush her powers manifested was a calligraphy brush, but again, that didn’t fit her character.

Once everyone was ready, the organizers announced the competition rules.

The selection contest was themed painting: they would be given a subject, and would have to create based on it. The theme wasn’t difficult: “Light.” In painting, the use of light and shadow is crucial; anyone who’s studied properly knows this.

It was a fairly simple topic, understandable since the participants were children, with an average age of ten. Mu Yin picked up her pencil and began to plan.

In the end, she decided to paint a pile of firewood. To avoid monotony, she added a figure beside the fire.

The piece depicted a young girl sitting beside a blazing pile of wood amidst utter darkness, with only the fire illuminating the space.

The darkness wasn’t ordinary, either; it seemed to hint at dangers lurking within. The black was varied in depth, but not obvious. If one looked closely, even the flames weren’t so simple, though the traces were faint.

Mu Yin used a sketching style reminiscent of comics, working quickly. In just over an hour, she finished. Looking at the paper, at the girl beside the fire in the dark, she couldn’t help but recall her nights of keeping vigil in the darkness during her previous life.

Night in the apocalypse was perilous. Mutated plants and animals were more active, and mutated insects even more rampant. Keeping watch was essential; even in the base, sleep wasn’t guaranteed, as the city walls kept out larger threats but not the insects.

She glanced at her finished work, then surveyed the other contestants; they still had plenty of time. She didn’t want to sit idly, so she packed her tools, took her drawing, and went forward to submit it to the supervising teacher, returning the art supplies as well, then prepared to leave.

She hadn’t gotten far when a female reporter with a microphone stopped her. Earlier, the reporter and her cameraman had been filming around the venue, but out of respect for the competition, hadn’t interviewed participants directly, only speaking with supervising teachers and asking about the contestants.

This could affect some of the participants, since they could hear the teachers’ comments right beside them—how could they not mind?

Mu Yin had been commented on as well; her speed was impressive, and her finished piece was quite good. Though her style leaned toward comics, her use of light and shadow was flawless.

Moreover, despite the comic style, her drawing had a vitality that made viewers feel as if they were present. The girl by the fire in the darkness wasn’t cowering from the night, but faced it boldly, the light not merely banishing fear but illuminating courage.

Thus, being the first to finish, Mu Yin was naturally stopped by the reporter for an interview. “Little sister, could you chat with me for a bit?”

“Of course, but could we go over there?” Mu Yin didn’t refuse, but suggested moving to another spot.

“Certainly,” the reporter replied, raising her eyebrows, then led the cameraman and Mu Yin to the side, where their conversation wouldn’t disturb the competitors.

“How old are you, little sister? Where are you from?” Once they were away from the crowd, the reporter began her questions.

“I’m nine years old, from Maoyang County in Pingzhou City.” It was 1999, and born in 1991, she was indeed nine by nominal age.

“Oh, so young! How many years have you studied painting?” The reporter was surprised—Mu Yin appeared tall, more like eleven or twelve, and Maoyang County was known as a mountain region.

“Three years,” Mu Yin replied. She couldn’t say she’d studied for seven or eight. In her previous life, she’d picked up painting quickly, mastering the basics in a few months, mostly self-taught since the apocalypse left little opportunity.

She had painted for seven or eight years. In the early days, her abilities were weak, and the more lifelike the drawing, the less energy it consumed, so she honed her skills out of necessity. Her style was realistic, mainly because her painting served her abilities. As her powers grew, the need for precision waned, and she painted more freely.

“You’ve only studied three years? Who taught you? Your teacher must be amazing.” The reporter, thinking of Mu Yin’s painting, considered her talent extraordinary.

“I learned from our art teacher, then started studying comic books myself,” Mu Yin replied, sticking out her tongue.

“Comic books… manga?” The reporter was taken aback; Mu Yin’s answer was unexpected.