The Versatile Master Artist

”That’s not it.”

Gu Weijing looked up at Du Wen, knowing he misunderstood. Brother Hao, the notorious Underworld Godfather, isn’t someone ordinary people don’t fear.

”Our family gallery is called Gu’s Calligraphy and Painting Shop, located by the Yangon River. Compared to the galleries you mentioned, we deal more in Chinese Painting. If you’re interested, you can go have a look.” Gu Weijing casually promoted his family’s shop.

Du Wen picked up his phone and searched on Google Maps.

He looked at the shop’s description and display windows, found it was a very small private gallery, which made him feel relieved.

If the son of an underworld tycoon is keen on charity, it would be too darkly humorous for the news to report.

”Doesn’t look like it generates a lot of income.”

Du Wen looked at the shop homepage on Google Maps.

A very small storefront; normally, such small galleries shouldn’t have high income.

”You’re willing to send you to Fitz; your family is quite generous.” He indirectly probed into Gu Weijing’s family background.

”It’s really expensive, but I have a scholarship. Is there a problem?”

Gu Weijing found it odd; he’s encountered this bespectacled volunteer several times, and the other party seemed quite interested in him.

”No, no.”

Du Wen waved his hand with a smile.

He was all too pleased with this answer; Du Wen planned to pull strings to see if he could get hold of Fitz’s scholarship list.

Being poor is great, better to be a little poorer.

If this young man is telling the truth, a good student with a scholarship inherently resonates more with ordinary people than a philanthropic rich young man.

Gu Weijing finished the line sketch in hand, successfully achieving the [Heartfelt] rating.

As the notification for task progress completed sounded, he put the finished pen drawing into the folder on one side.

Gu Weijing was collecting character materials for the exhibition and simultaneously accelerating the completion of sketch tasks.

”Uncle, why do you always come to the orphanage?”

He pulled out a sketch paper again; the orphanage couldn’t just have kids, these volunteers also needed to be collected as model material.

”Oh... my girlfriend is a teacher who practices DINK philosophy, but I quite like kids.”

Du Wen recited the resume he’d crafted and spoke casually.

The term ”DINK” refers to couples who are unwilling to have children.

This reason is quite common among volunteers at the orphanage.

As he painted, Gu Weijing chatted on and off with this uncle.

He always felt the other party wasn’t telling the truth, like reciting a script, at least not conveying genuine emotions as seen in his artwork.

He didn’t ask much more.

Though the uncle was a bit peculiar and constantly liked hanging around him, anyone willing to come to the orphanage shouldn’t be a bad person.

Even if it’s just influencers clocking in for social media, as long as the donations and help are genuine, it’s acceptable.

”Quite a nice drawing, may I have it?” Du Wen felt tempted looking at Gu Weijing’s vivid depiction of himself.

”If you want it, donate fifteen dollars or thirty thousand Myanmar Kyat to the director, and the drawing is yours.”

Gu Weijing neither agreed nor outright refused.

It’s common for audience models to demand artwork during field sketching; outright refusal might lead to unpleasantness.

Gu Weijing didn’t care about the money; however, if he aspired to be a serious artist, it wasn’t good practice to have many works circulating pre-fame.

To maintain the scarcity of art pieces, many great painters release only a few works each year into the market.

Gu Weijing wasn’t ready to consider this yet, but he wasn’t willing to simply give his artwork away.

Hence, the fifteen-dollar threshold.

His grandfather Gu Tongxiang sold his life’s first painting at that price.

Most ordinary people wouldn’t believe a student’s work is worth that amount, which helps Gu Weijing deter most requests.

”Fifteen dollars? Street artist drawing sketches in front of the Great Golden Pagoda sells at only two dollars; boy, you are really heartless.”

Sure enough,

Du Wen wasn’t pleased to hear the price.

Fifteen dollars is not a small amount locally.

His monthly salary at the newspaper, when converted, was less than one thousand dollars, which is considered high income in Myanmar. Many factory workers near Good Fortune Orphanage earn only a tenth of that.

Yet, paying over half-a-day’s wage for an unknown student’s sketch, Du Wen wasn’t willing to be the fool.

”Uncle, I wasn’t planning on selling the drawing; you don’t have to buy it.”

”Tch, forget it then.” Du Wen raised his head, growing quite snobbish.