"They are classmates in the same school, and it seems the grades given by the teacher are also quite similar."
The bald man was always puzzled.
He couldn't figure out why Brother Hao had to treat Gu Weijing differently when there were so many outstanding young people.
Is it really true that flowers at home are not as fragrant as wildflowers? Does Brother Hao prefer the fiery young painters?
"Similar grades?"
Brother Hao was amused by his answer.
"Grades... What artists want aren't grades, it's that sudden flash of talent, that kind of divine insight, that one-in-a-million aptitude."
Brother Hao flicked the calendar photo in his hand.
"With just this skill, even Miao Angwen isn't qualified to carry Gu Weijing's shoes. Probably none of the young painters in the whole of Yangon, none of them are qualified."
"Boss, is he really that good?"
The bald man glanced at the mural photo on the calendar, his tone skeptical.
