Chapter 801: The Painting Doesn’t Look Like It

He Xiyan sat in front of the easel, picked up her paintbrush, and carefully observed the man in front of her. The paintbrush in her hand moved gently, painting in depth and lightness, and soon, she had outlined the general outline.

"Jiahang, stop smiling." When it was time to paint the expression, He Xiyan reminded him. This guy always smiles whether taking pictures or painting.

Chen Jiahang obediently stopped showing his signature smile, and sat on the stool seriously.

"Yanyan, you have to make me look more handsome."

He Xiyan: ...

He Xiyan continued the painting in her hand, especially when painting the face, she was particularly careful and serious, and every stroke was just right.

Usually a sketch only takes 20 minutes to complete, but this time it took her 40 minutes to paint.

After finishing the painting, she put down her pen and looked at the painting in front of her.

In the painting, Jiahang was leaning on a wooden chair with a book in his hand. He seemed to be reading very seriously, with a focused look between his eyebrows. His face was very handsome, and his features were three-dimensional, like they were carved out.

In fact, Jiahang had a pair of very deep eyes, and that kind of deepness always gave him an elusive calmness when he was serious.

He Xiyan had drawn more than a dozen paintings for Jiahang. For some reason, she always felt that the Jiahang in her paintings was different from the real Jiahang.

This one was the same.

Chen Jiahang saw that He Xiyan had finished painting, and walked over happily. Looking at the handsome self in the painting, he smiled with satisfaction. He said in lip language:

"Yanyan, you painted so well!"

He Xiyan smiled faintly, and she just put the painting away. Then she put away the easel and everything else. In fact, she was not satisfied with her painting because it was not very similar.

At this time, at a fork in the road not far away, Mo Yixuan parked his car on a lawn, and a short and dark man got out with him. The man's name is Wang Zhi, he is already 38 years old, and he can be described as ugly, especially the scar on his face, which looks ferocious and terrifying.

The two men standing together form a sharp contrast, one is tall and handsome, and the other is short and ugly. The picture is a bit funny.

It was past nine o'clock in the evening, the moon was dark and the wind was high, and the village without street lights looked dark. Only a few houses not far away still had lights on, but the lights were also very dim.

Mo Yixuan stood on the lawn, the dew wet his short hair on his forehead, she frowned, and looked at the faintly visible lights with a hesitant look.

He followed the navigation to this village an hour ago. Because it was at night, he could not see the original appearance of the village, so he could only find a house with lights on to ask for directions.

He felt incredible that his Yanyan came to such a backward place, where there was not even a straight road. Could it be that this Chen Yan was not Yanyan at all, but just looked like her.

The original expectation turned into doubt. The huge gap made Mo Yixuan look very disappointed for a moment. He took out a cigarette from his pocket, handed one to Wang Zhi, and smoked one himself.

"Which house is it?" Mo Yixuan asked Wang Zhi.

Wang Zhi pointed to a light 500 meters away, the house at the foot of the mountain, but because it was too dark, the original appearance of the house could not be seen.

"That house, that house belongs to Chen Jiahang." Wang Zhi said affirmatively.

He has lived in this village for more than 30 years, and he knows where everyone's house is with his eyes closed.