In the neon of blue and purple, under the thick steel sky, at the forefront of this surge of data, lies the world post-tech revolution. It's also the dividing line between reality and illusion. Steel and flesh, past and future. In this place, the world outside and inside coexist. Everything in front of us feels like a wall of time within reach. The darkness is slowly creeping in. But hey, my friend, you gotta know, we can't just counter darkness with softness. Gotta use fire.
Qing Chen knew Thomas Lawrence, who had been the dean of the Royal Academy of Arts in the UK, and was one of the most famous portrait painters.
He realized that although the girl did not possess his eidetic memory, the skills she had honed over years involved capturing facial details.
It was similar to some street artists who painted portraits; they could rapidly replicate your facial features on paper.
Qing Chen thought for a moment and still wrote on the note, "Classmate, you are mistaken."
After giving him a glance, the girl said nothing more.
Indeed, Qing Chen knew she had already pegged him as an assassin, but he could not admit it.
He slid the drawing into a book and then carefully turned the note with the words into powder, ensuring no one could piece it together again.
From the side, Hu Xiaoniu caught a glimpse of this scene; though he couldn't make out the words on the note, it was densely packed with dialogue.