I was confused. “Why isn’t such a talented painter like him famous?”
Spencer adjusted his glasses and explained in a melancholic tone, “He gave his painting to Crystal because she wanted to be the champion for a particular art exhibition. Only I knew about this incident.”
If Crystal was right in front of me, I would wish for nothing more than to show her a thumbs-up. I had to give it up to her—she might not be capable in other domains, but she was extremely skilled in charming men. It was a type of talent to hoodwink so many men and make them do bad things for her willingly.
“Will I suffer a terrible defeat, then?” I started to feel anxious.
“It all depends on fate,” gloated Spencer.
Remington frowned, showing that he did not think that I had a high chance of winning. My palm started to sweat while I gripped my brush. Then, I glanced at Harvey, who was twirling his brush casually and staring at me in disdain. Immediately, my anxiety disappeared.
Although I had stopped painting for years and did not produce any artwork for six years, my skills back then were top-notch. Before Christopher left, he even cupped my face and said that I was the best.
Since I was the best, there was no reason for me to fear a challenge. I walked to the canvas briskly and twirled my brush skillfully.
“What do you want the challenge to be about? Flowers or phoenixes?”
“Phoenixes! I hope that you can manage to draw more.” Harvey laughed in contempt.
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