I've only managed to deliver one chapter out of three for now; the other two will be ready tomorrow. We are currently twenty-three votes shy of Seventh Place. Brothers, keep pushing! Don't hold back. If we surpass that target, I'll add another bonus chapter.

Choosing a major is a decision that shapes one's entire life. Despite his demanding schedule, Zhong Pingjiang carved out an entire evening to discuss the matter with his wife and son.

Zhong Yun didn't feel strongly one way or the other; he was merely informing them out of respect for his parents.

Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong debated for a long time before finally turning back to Zhong Yun. "Which field interests you the most?"

"Me?" Zhong Yun propped his chin in his hand, pondering.

Zhong Pingjiang looked at him with keen anticipation. Zhong's Machinery was thriving, already quite substantial in scale. He desperately hoped his son would choose a management-focused major so he could eventually take over and continue running Zhong's Machinery after graduation.

However, Zhong Yun clearly had his own ideas. He said, "I think I'm more interested in the arts."

Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong exchanged glances. They were stunned that their son was interested in the arts; they had never noticed any inclination before.

Zhong Pingjiang asked, "Well, where did that thought come from?"

It wasn't that those pursuing art had no future, but they hadn't observed any outstanding artistic talent in their son. They worried it might just be a fleeting whim, a three-minute passion. Selecting a major in the first year of high school was incredibly significant. If the wrong choice was made, changing it was possible, but time would be needlessly wasted. Therefore, planning correctly early on was highly beneficial for one's future life.

"Because I have talent," Zhong Yun replied with absolute confidence. Setting aside everything else, just singing alone would guarantee him a comfortable life for the rest of his days—he simply didn't care for being a celebrity.

"That's not convincing enough for me," Zhong Pingjiang shook his head. Although he considered himself open-minded, he absolutely would not be persuaded by such a frivolous declaration.

Zhong Yun knew that to pass this hurdle with his parents, he had to present some real proof. He retrieved paper and a pen he had prepared earlier and began drawing on the table.

Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong looked at each other again, both seeing confusion in the other's eyes, wondering what their son was up to now. They leaned closer, watching for a while before gradually realizing—their son was drawing!

Although they were busy with work, they hadn't neglected their son's academic and daily life. Yet, they never knew their son could draw. And judging by the serious demeanor he displayed, it didn't look like mere child's play.

Although the sketching technique of Jialan seemed miraculous, it was essentially a fundamental skill. Achieving delicate results with rough lines relied on spiritual power—a distinct hallmark of Jialan art pieces.

Zhong Yun finished the final stroke, taking barely three minutes. Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong were already stunned, especially Yun Rong. As an art enthusiast herself, she understood the inherent value of the drawing her son had produced.

She picked up the drawing in disbelief, examining it repeatedly. It depicted a man and a woman leaning close together; the man was focused on fastening a necklace around the woman's neck, while the woman's gaze was fixed on the man's wrinkled collar. A faint warmth washed over the entire piece.

Zhong Pingjiang lightly tapped Zhong Yun's head and scolded with a smile, "Little rascal, big ideas." The man and woman in the drawing were clearly him and his wife; the necklace was the gift he had given his wife for their twentieth wedding anniversary.

Zhong Yun pulled a face.

"Where did you learn this?" Yun Rong finally managed to accept the reality. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she might not have believed it—this was the long-lost Jialan technique.

Whenever this question arose, Zhong Yun felt a headache coming on. If anyone else asked, he could feign mystery, but when his own mother asked, he had no choice but to answer.

"On a website," Zhong Yun lied smoothly, not blinking once.

"What website?" Yun Rong asked suspiciously.

Zhong Yun immediately opened his portable computer, navigated to a website, and explained while demonstrating, "You can only enter the main page if you answer the questions correctly. The questions up there are quite difficult."

Yun Rong leaned toward the screen; the very first question stumped her. It was too obscure.

"There are ten questions in total, and you have to answer them within thirty seconds. Everyone only gets one chance to attempt the quiz per day, and the questions change daily," Zhong Yun explained, deftly inputting the answers. Yun Rong and Zhong Pingjiang watched, dumbfounded. The questions covered a wide range of specialties and were all incredibly niche. Yet, Zhong Yun answered with ease and certainty, as if he had known the answers beforehand, finishing all ten questions in under ten seconds.

Is this really our mediocre son?

The same question simultaneously arose in the minds of Zhong Pingjiang and Yun Rong.

"I found this website by chance, just for fun," Zhong Yun continued, ignoring their bewildered expressions. "I didn't realize it contained so much knowledge about painting. I only just discovered that drawing could be this interesting."

That bizarre thought that had just surfaced was instantly cast aside by the couple. Their son had become smarter; that was always a good thing. Although, the changes in their son were more than just an increase in intelligence.

Their attention returned to the website. After watching for a while, they both clicked their tongues in amazement, speculating that the site must have been created by a deity.

Seeing that his parents had accepted his explanation, Zhong Yun secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, he had built this website, and it would be shut down in a few days. He didn't want to study management as his father intended because he didn't want to be tied down to a single company; he had grander ambitions, which was why he chose the most unrestricted path: the arts.

Having successfully tricked his parents, Zhong Yun confidently filled in Art History, Painting Fundamentals, and Painting on his course selection form.

To foster diverse interests among students, in addition to the three specialized electives, the school required participation in one extracurricular activity, which was also linked to credit hours.

Zhong Yun casually selected Sculpture.

Since the extracurricular session was scheduled for the afternoon, the Sculpture Association seemed like a fairly niche club. Its meeting place was on the second floor of the building directly across from his classroom.

Zhong Yun pushed the door open and was surprised to find the room quite full—a space of over two hundred square meters was packed with nearly a hundred people. He had assumed it was an obscure club; apparently, that wasn't the case.

"Hey, Zhong Yun, is that you?" A familiar voice called out. Looking back from the doorway, Zhong Yun saw, by sheer coincidence, the enthusiastic senior he had met on the first day of school, Gong Yao.

"What a coincidence, you're in this association too?" Zhong Yun greeted her, then noticed the slightly strange looks from the surrounding students.

"I'm the President of the Sculpture Association." Gong Yao’s dimples reappeared. "You must be our new member. Come here, let me introduce you."

Zhong Yun followed her. Gong Yao led him to the center, clapped her hands to gather everyone's attention, and announced, "Today, our association welcomes a new member, Zhong Yun from the first year."

Scattered applause broke out. Zhong Yun stepped into the center and greeted them, "Hello everyone, my name is Zhong Yun. I look forward to learning from you all." He offered a perfunctory greeting to fit the occasion.

Then Gong Yao handed Zhong Yun a small pamphlet detailing introductory knowledge about sculpture. Sculpture, in fact, was divided into many types: wood carving, stone carving, ice carving, clay modeling, plaster casting, and so on. If categorized by technique, it could be divided into round sculpture, bas-relief, and openwork.

However, the Sculpture Association was an amateur group, so they couldn't engage in overly professional work; most members focused on wood carving and clay modeling.

Sculpting required a full set of tools. Zhong Yun hadn't brought anything, so he could only observe today. Since he was new, the enthusiastic President Gong Yao accompanied him, offering explanations as they toured the room.

The people in the classroom were engaged in various activities: one was carving a half-finished piece of wood; another was beginning to build a frame on a stand; yet another was continuously kneading a lump of clay…

Zhong Yun felt like his horizons were being broadened. He had no prior experience with sculpture; he had only chosen this extracurricular activity because it bore some slight connection to painting.

Besides gaining new knowledge, Zhong Yun had another realization: the male members here were looking at him with less-than-friendly eyes. The root cause was naturally centered on the beautiful and enthusiastic President beside him. Zhong Yun suddenly understood—no wonder this relatively niche association had so many members; most of them were here for Gong Yao.

The class session ended quickly. With his interest piqued, Zhong Yun returned home and looked up more material on sculpture. He compared Jialan Star sculpture with that of Dawa and found that the Jialan style was indeed distinct. It utilized very few tools—basically just a carving knife. Dawa's sculpting tools, however, were an assortment of knives, hammers, chisels, and pliers. Dawa pursued meticulous detail, striving to capture every minute element. Jialan focused more on the sculpture’s spirit—crude strokes were enough to transform a block of wood into a work of art.

It was hard to say which style was superior, but Zhong Yun preferred the Jialan style; it conveyed a feeling of innate sculpture, achieved by a masterful hand.

During dinner that evening, Zhong Yun noticed his father’s demeanor was slightly off; he looked worried. He began to wonder—it seemed his father’s company was facing a significant problem. Although his father acted cheerful around him, the fleeting sorrow glimpsed in his brow could not be hidden. From snippets of conversation with his mother, he could vaguely deduce that the company was in some kind of trouble.

Zhong Yun kept this in mind and didn't ask his parents. Although they regarded him with newfound respect, deep down, they still saw him as a child, and they wouldn't tell him even if he inquired.

That night, Tian Hai and Chen Wen came over again; the three of them had agreed to see a movie. Sitting in Chen Wen’s shuttle-car, Zhong Yun asked, "Is my dad's company having some sort of issue?"

Chen Wen chuckled mischievously. "I was just about to tell you." He did know about the situation. "It's not just having an issue; it's a major problem."

Hearing how serious Chen Wen sounded, Zhong Yun frowned. "Tell me in detail."

Tian Hai leaned in closer as well.

"Zhong's Machinery was set up, and they were swindled out of tens of billions."

P. I recommend a friend's book: The Paramount Ding (Book ID 1194006), by Xiao Mao. Power, beautiful landscapes, all within reach. The legend of the Jia Ding is rekindled!

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