Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

The National Academy of Painting's Youth Art Exhibition opens the day after tomorrow!

Qi Wenhai will send someone to pick up the artwork at nine o'clock tomorrow morning!

It's 3 PM now.

All told, it's less than eighteen hours.

Even more outrageous is that what Mr. Qi wanted was a finished product that was already framed and ready to be displayed!

"Are you crazy?!"

Liu Yifei finally couldn't hold back anymore.

She pounced on him, grabbed Fang Yu's shoulders with both hands, and started a crazy rocking horse session.

Fang Yu was shaken so badly he was swaying back and forth.

"That's the National Academy of Painting!"

"Master Qi was a leading figure in the national art world!"

Liu Yifei's face turned red with anxiety.

"The institute is treating you as a key focus of their publicity; they've even reserved a separate exhibition area and display case for you!"

"You're telling me now that you haven't touched a single penny?"

"What are we going to use to explain tomorrow? Air?"

Fang Yu reached out and pressed down on her wrist, finally freeing himself from the human-made washing machine.

He stood up and straightened his clothes, which had been wrinkled from being shaken.

"I've just been too busy lately."

Fang Yu has indeed been quite busy lately.

First, he went to Xiangshan to make a cameo appearance in He Zheng's martial arts film.

After his cameo appearance, he even recorded "A Laugh in the Vast Sea" overnight.

After returning to Beijing, he wrote "Misplaced Time and Space" and "Youth" for CCTV's May Fourth Gala.

Just as she caught her breath, she flew to Hangzhou to deliver her new song for the finals to Cai Kun.

Let alone painting.

For the entire month, he didn't even touch a single hair on a calligraphy brush.

Liu Yifei asked urgently:

"So what do we do now?"

"What else can we do?"

Fang Yu stretched his shoulders, his expression remaining calm enough to make anyone's teeth itch.

"Didn't I say we'd deliver tomorrow?"

"It's not too late to draw it now."

Liu Yifei was completely stunned.

She stared at Fang Yu, seriously suspecting that he was hallucinating from writing.

Fang Yu, however, seemed not to see the breakdown on her face.

He gestured with his chin toward the study, a composed smile playing on his lips.

"Fairy Sister, don't panic."

"Prepare paper and ink."

……

Two days later.

Beijing, National Academy of Painting.

Opening day of the Youth Art Exhibition.

This group of antique-style buildings, located within the Second Ring Road, is filled with the fragrance of ink and exudes an extremely solemn atmosphere.

The courtyard features blue bricks and gray tiles, while the exhibition hall is softly lit.

Those coming and going were all leading figures in the domestic art world, well-known art critics, and representatives from art academies in various provinces and cities.

In addition to authoritative media outlets in the cultural field, a large number of entertainment reporters have also infiltrated the area today, a rare occurrence.

Long lenses and short lenses were set up on both sides of the passage, and the sound of camera shutters rose and fell.

"Quickly, quickly, set up the camera, and aim the lens at the center!"

"This is Fang Yu's first time participating in an art exhibition of this level. I wonder what level of work he will bring."

A reporter wearing an entertainment media badge was excitedly muttering to himself as he adjusted his camera.

Nearby, a veteran cultural reporter, upon hearing this, adjusted his glasses, his tone revealing a touch of seriousness.

"Don't bring the filter of the entertainment industry here. The National Academy of Painting has always only looked at the works, not the popularity."

"If we can't produce something truly impressive today, we're going to fail miserably here."

Similar conversations continued to unfold in various corners of the exhibition hall.

No one knows what happened in that apartment in Chaoyang District over the past eighteen hours.

No one knows what kind of work Fang Yu actually submitted within the tight deadline.

But at this moment, the most central area of ​​Hall 1 has already provided a certain answer.

In the very center of Hall 1.

The "independent C-position booth," which boasts the best lighting and the widest view, is now completely covered by a huge red silk cloth.

According to the rules of the National Academy of Painting, this position has always belonged only to the gold medal winners of previous youth exhibitions, or to masterpieces that have been unanimously regarded by all judges as "treasures of the museum".

Today, the rosewood sign next to the booth only has two characters written on it.

Fang Yu.

The air around us seemed to become somewhat subtle because of those two words.

All the young artists and special guests participating in the exhibition would unconsciously slow down their pace when passing by this booth, their expressions full of curiosity and inquiry.

In front of the red silk display stand, a young man wearing a linen stand-up collar shirt frowned slightly as he quietly gazed at the signboard.

His name is Lin Chen, and he studied under a famous landscape painter in China.

In his early thirties, he was already quite well-known in the industry.

She was also the most popular candidate for the gold medal at this year's Youth Exhibition.

If Fang Yu hadn't arrived, the spot under that red silk would most likely have belonged to him.

Lin Chen stared at the name on the standee.

"Professor Qi and several vice deans unanimously recommended him..." he murmured to himself, "Does this Professor Fang really possess such profound knowledge?"

Several young painters nearby exchanged glances.

Someone whispered a reply.

"Brother Lin, to be honest, I'm quite puzzled too."

"I've seen videos of Fang Yu's calligraphy online, and he definitely has a solid foundation."

"But this is a national-level exhibition. Basic skills alone are not enough; one must also have the spirit and artistic conception."

Another young man with long hair pushed up his black-rimmed glasses and began to analyze the situation in a serious manner.

"Traditional Chinese painting emphasizes the spirit and vitality of the subject, and the use of brushstrokes to convey its essence."

"This requires years of quiet contemplation and reflection."

"He's constantly rushing between gigs, filming, and recording variety shows. He doesn't even have time to come to the art academy, so where would he find the time to polish a piece that can truly dominate the center stage?"

Lin Chen nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the huge piece of red silk, and he sighed softly.

"I don't have a prejudice against cross-disciplinary work; art doesn't care about background."

He paused.

"But the center position represents the highest level of this year's youth exhibition."

"If this position is given to a celebrity simply because of official endorsement or viral popularity, it is indeed difficult to convince those of us who spend years sitting in the studio, painstakingly working with brush and ink."

Upon hearing this, several young artists around him nodded in agreement.

"Lin Chen is right, we're just discussing the matter at hand."

"We trust Qi Lao's judgment, but we are afraid that these masters may have relaxed the selection criteria in order to attract young people to pay attention to traditional culture."

"We'll know when the unveiling comes out. If his work truly steals the show, I'll be the first to wholeheartedly applaud him. If he's not living up to his reputation, even if he's a top star, we'll still have to demand an explanation from the academy."

The air was filled with the meticulousness characteristic of academic circles.

Lin Chen looked at the red silk and secretly pondered in his heart.

Without decades of dedicated training and a calm and focused mind, it is difficult to truly reach the pinnacle of mastery in traditional Chinese painting.

What kind of work can Fang Yu, a star at the center of fame and fortune, produce today that would make Qi Lao and other masters willingly give up the center position?

Just then.

A commotion suddenly broke out at the entrance of the exhibition hall.

The crowd, which had been gathered together and whispering, quickly parted to both sides like Moses parting the sea.

The flashes went off like crazy, a constant barrage of clicks.