Volume 1 / Chapter 25: Designing the Bulletin Board

During art class, Teacher Qiū Yì, the art teacher, pulled a handful of magnets from his pocket and held a stack of papers in his other hand—clearly arranged in a specific order.

He placed the top sheet on the blackboard, pinned it with magnets, and began his lecture.

Now, someone might ask—why not just use a slideshow?

Well, first of all, computers in this era were ridiculously expensive. Even though Yŭkõng inherited some resources from its days as a private institution, it's now a public school. The equipment just isn't that advanced. Supplying every classroom with a computer and projector simply isn't realistic.

Not that the school couldn’t afford it—but classroom computers were prone to damage. Constant repairs meant skyrocketing maintenance fees.

If it’s just about watching movies, the school does have a multimedia room big enough to accommodate all three grades. That room boasts a massive reel-to-reel projector left over from Yŭkõng High’s private school days. On major holidays, the school would organize group screenings there.

As for the regular classrooms? Forget about it—projectors are far too expensive for everyday use.

So, if teachers want to give lively, visual lessons, the most practical method is to print out images in the school's printing room and pin them to the blackboard. It mimics the effect of a slideshow by swapping sheets in and out with magnets.

The only drawback? The standard paper sizes aren’t very large, so students sitting in the back still struggle to see clearly.

That’s why teachers sometimes take the sheets and walk a lap around the room—so every student can get a good look at the visuals.

Among all subjects, art class probably relies on this technique the most.

Granted, most students treat art class as nap time or a chance to catch up on homework they didn’t do the night before.

Still, there are always a few genuinely interested students who ask thoughtful questions.

Surprisingly, those students are usually the so-called “underachievers”—the ones who tend to sleep through core classes.

Mò Xuěyáo did like drawing. But the techniques taught in art class were minimal at best, so she, too, had developed the habit of tuning out during lectures.

Instead, she spun a pen between her fingers, lost in thought.

Just yesterday, school had officially started, and the homeroom teacher had somehow appointed her as the class publicity officer. She wasn’t sure if it was because the teacher genuinely trusted her—or if no one else wanted the role and she was picked as a last resort.

Either way, a task assigned by a teacher had to be done.

So now, during art class, she was brainstorming how to design the bulletin board around the theme of “Autumn Elegance”...

---

“Teacher Qiū, you said that Méngnǎlìshā is Leonardo da Vinci’s most famous work—and even his self-portrait. So... does that mean he wanted to be a woman?” asked Liú Xiǎowěi after listening intently to part of the lecture.

To be fair, he was actually being quite serious about it.

If only he could be this focused during English class—he might be getting top marks by now...

“First of all, it’s Mona Lisa, not ‘Méng nǎ lǐ shǎ’,” Mr. Qiū replied, half-laughing. “What a wild pronunciation you’ve got there! And secondly, the idea that the Mona Lisa is da Vinci’s self-portrait is just one theory. More precisely, some believe it's a representation of what da Vinci imagined his female self might look like.”

“Ewww~” Liú Xiǎowěi made a face. “So da Vinci wanted to be a woman?”

“Not exactly. Everyone has another side to themselves. Da Vinci might’ve wanted to paint his own feminine aspect—so he created the Mona Lisa. Of course, that’s just one hypothesis. Unless da Vinci rises from the grave to confirm it, we can’t be certain of his intent.”

Qiū Yì paused and saw the students visibly intrigued, so he continued:

“Historically, the painting was commissioned by a nobleman as a portrait of his wife. And this isn’t even the original version—it was repainted at least once.”

Even Mò Xuěyáo, who had been daydreaming with her chin in her hand, found herself drawn into the discussion.

The mysterious Mona Lisa had originally just been a portrait. The layers of enigma surrounding her smile were all things projected onto the piece by later generations.

Some people believed the painting must have held a world-shattering secret, simply because da Vinci liked carrying it with him on his travels.

But... wasn't it also possible he just liked it?

If the Mona Lisa’s mystique made her a symbol, then maybe her own bulletin board theme—“Autumn Elegance”—could become symbolic too?

Perhaps Mr. Qiū Yì, the art teacher, could be the visual embodiment of Qiū Yì, the seasonal theme?

It sounded clunky... but inspiration had struck.

She quickly opened her sketchbook and started to draw.

Mr. Qiū's appearance was remarkably average—the kind of face you’d never pick out in a crowd.

His height, build, and facial features were all standard to the point of anonymity.

Even his voice was as plain as could be—youthful, but utterly unremarkable.

His only distinguishing feature might be... his name.

Mò Xuěyáo attempted a pencil sketch of him but couldn’t seem to capture any defining features.

“Mona Lisa’s beauty lies in its ambiguity. Her smile, too, is... hazy.”

“Hazy, huh...?” she muttered.

And just like that, her hand found direction. The sketch slowly took form.

It resembled Mr. Qiū, but not quite—more like a composite of several ordinary people. The lines were soft, even blurry. Vague in parts. Rough in others.

And she was genuinely happy with the result.

By the time she finished the sketch, the bell signaling the end of class rang.

All around her, students who had dozed through the lesson began to rouse.

Some stretched with exaggerated yawns. Others glanced at the art teacher and promptly decided to go right back to sleep.

It was that groggy lull—two or three in the afternoon—when fatigue hit hardest.

The weather didn’t help either. It wasn’t cold or hot. A gentle breeze blew in through the windows, lulling the sleepy even further into slumber.

Wáng Jiālè let out a massive yawn, then slowly sat up. When she noticed Mò Xuěyáo looking her way, she quickly wiped at her mouth in a panic.

“I didn’t drool while I was sleeping, okay?” she blurted out, clearly outing herself.

“...I know,” Mò Xuěyáo replied, deadpan, too kind to expose the lie.

“Whoa, what’s this? A sketch? Did you draw... the art teacher? It kinda looks like him! You’re amazing!” Wáng Jiālè tried to change the subject in a hurry.

“Huh? A sketch? You drew something, Xuěyáo?” Mò Xiǎoxiào, sitting behind her, also leaned in.

“Uhh... it’s nothing special,” Xuěyáo replied shyly, humble but also a little embarrassed.

“Nothing special? It’s great!”

“What’s so great? I wanna see!” Mo Xiǎoxiào’s desk mate shouted from nearby.

He was a handsome boy with a bright smile—a little like one of those Western-style pretty boys.

He and the always-giggling Mo Xiǎoxiào actually made a pretty fitting pair.

...Until he opened his mouth and ruined the illusion.

“Xuěyáo drew this? Let me see!”

“Oh, not bad!” he said, winking at her like he was flirting.

Mò Xuěyáo rolled her eyes hard.

That kind of teasing might work on some girls, but to her, it was laughably immature.

More and more students gathered around. Eventually, the sketch made its way around the entire group—and somehow even ended up in the hands of their homeroom teacher, Yè Wén.

“What’s everyone looking at? Let me see,” Yè Wén said out of nowhere, materializing from the shadows like some kind of ghost.

“It’s Xuěyáo’s drawing,” Wáng Jiālè replied on her behalf.

“Ooh, let me take a look.” Yè Wén examined the drawing closely, then nodded in approval. “It does kind of capture your art teacher’s essence.”

“R-Really...?” Mò Xuěyáo gave a bashful laugh, fingers nervously twisting her shirt hem. She even reached out subtly, trying to retrieve her sketch.

“Oh, right.” Yè Wén handed it back, seemingly unbothered. Mò Xuěyáo let out a relieved sigh—only for Yè Wén to follow up immediately:

“So, how’s the bulletin board plan coming? Remember, it needs to be finished before military training starts.”

“Uh... I’ve pretty much figured it out. I was thinking—”

“No need to tell me!” Yè Wén cut her off with a wave. “Anything goes, as long as it doesn’t break school rules. Just do your thing, okay? If you need help, find me—or the class monitor. You know who the class monitor is, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“Then it’s all yours!” she said, walking off as quickly as she had appeared.

Wait—was that the only reason she came to class after the bell?

Mò Xuěyáo stared after her, stunned, then turned to a fresh page in her sketchbook and resumed drawing.

She planned to start working on the bulletin board in earnest during tomorrow’s lunch break.

---

“Xuěyáo~ if you need help—”

“Thanks!”

“Eh? I meant, don’t come to me!” Wáng Jiālè looked confused at why she was thanked, blinking rapidly.

Mò Xuěyáo cringed a little. She’d totally misread the moment.

That “thank you” was wasted...

“Pfft, Jiālè’s not willing, but you can ask me,” Mo Xiǎoxiào offered with a laugh, covering her mouth like a proper lady. “If it’s just cleaning the board or doing some writing, I’m happy to help.”

“Oh, totally! Xiǎoxiào’s handwriting is super pretty!” Wáng Jiālè added quickly, clearly trying to pass the baton so she wouldn’t be recruited.

“That would help a lot...” Mò Xuěyáo sighed in relief. She’d been wondering who she could ask to do the writing—because her own handwriting looked like it belonged to a dying mosquito. No way that would cut it.