You Hit My Heart (Joyce and Luther) novel Chapter 1889

Chapter 1889: Indeed, More Beautiful

Dewey Noble Kindergarten.

As usual, Aaron escorted Anderson to school in the morning, and he also assigned extra personnel to guard near the school. There was a security person stationed every few steps.

The school principal dared not complain. After all, Khebury had been restless lately. The sons of the richest man and the young commander attended their school. It was both an honor and a burden. If anything went wrong, they couldn't afford the consequences.

Carrying his small backpack, Anderson leisurely made his way to the classroom. His backpack contained his own telecommunications smart devices. Currently, he was already connected to the entire kindergarten's security system, allowing him to monitor and control it at any time.

Kiki arrived even earlier. When she saw Anderson, she flashed a big smile. "Anderson, come and see my new creation. Do you like it?"

With that, Kiki took out a delicate small painting. It was an impressionist painting made of the most advanced materials. At first glance, it looked like a print engraving, but it was not. The direction of avant-garde art had long shifted. Holding the brush was just one part of painting; the use of materials was the trend.

Anderson glanced at it. "I don't get it."

Kiki showed an expression of dissatisfaction. "Just take another look. I plan to use this painting for a children's painting competition. Give me some advice, so I can make changes when I get back."

Anderson had no interest in art, let alone in Kiki. His voice was indifferent, his expression lazy. "You said it's a children's painting competition, but where in this painting does it look like it's for children? It's clearly an adult's idea."

Kiki was taken aback. At first, she was angry. Clearly, Anderson just looked down on her painting, so why even bother finding a reason? She turned away, her delicate little face puffed up with anger.

But after a while, she thought again. What Anderson said seemed to make sense. She had been immersed in the artistic atmosphere of the Bryant family since she was young, exposed to too many aesthetics and thoughts imposed on her by adults. Her painting had long lost its childlike nature; it was more like a projection of her mother's expectations.

Thinking of this, she suddenly understood. Anderson was right.

She stood up from her seat, quietly walked to Anderson's side, about to thank him, when she keenly noticed Anderson chatting on his phone, earnestly sending messages.

"I'm already at school. Today we have horseback riding and field hockey. Are you going to sleep? It's late where you are."

"Not yet, I've been waiting for you. Just finished my math homework. Anderson, anything fun these days?"

"There is, but no time to talk now. I'll call you this weekend, you should go to bed early."

"I'll miss you. Hope to see you soon, goodnight."

"Wait, send me a photo of you. Any recent ones?"

"Sure, I took a photo of my dance class at school recently. Do you want to see?"

"Quickly send."