Reborn on Wedding Night: Flirting the Cold Bigshot into Blushes Chapter 41: Amelia Wright’s Paintings

Alia Wright seed sowhat like she wanted to flee.

Watching her, Robert Reed furrowed his brow, "Why are you panicking? Did that guy bully you?"

Alia Wright shook her head without speaking; this matter was hard to explain to others.

She cald her emotions and said, "Teacher, you head back first. I’ll grab a few of my paintings and et you at Ink Manor."

Robert Reed’s eyes turned angry as he suspiciously questioned, "You’re not going to do like last ti, saying you’ll co in a couple of days and then just forget about it, are you?"

Robert Reed had a hard ti finding a student he liked, yet this student wasn’t motivated at all.

Others would wait eagerly for a couple of pointers from him.

Yet this student, he offers to teach her, but she pushes him away as if she dislikes it.

Alia Wright explained, half joking, half serious, "No, I’ll be there in at most an hour."

"Where are you going to get them? I’ll go with you."

Alia Wright: "..."

This teacher, isn’t it too obvious he doesn’t trust her?

Alia Wright had no choice but to take Robert Reed along to the old neighborhood.

Most of her previous paintings at the Wright family were almost entirely burnt in a fire; now there are only a few pieces at number 32 of the old neighborhood, and so art books she brought back from school to the Shaw family ho.

She didn’t want to return to the Shaw family for now, so she could only go to the old neighborhood.

The two quickly arrived at the old neighborhood. This place was too chaotic, Alia Wright worried about the elder’s safety, instructed, "Teacher, you wait for in the car, I’ll go ho to get my paintings and co right out."

Alia Wright finished speaking, not waiting for Robert Reed to refuse, opened the car door, and dashed out.

Robert Reed gazed at this rundown street, furrowing his brow—go ho to get them? Is this girl’s ho here?

Isn’t she the adopted child of the Wright family and married to that guy from the Shaw family? How could this old, rundown house be her ho?

Robert Reed didn’t ponder for long, Alia Wright ran back with an art book and had also changed out of her dress.

Robert Reed took the art book, thought of that Red Plum Blossom Painting, and had so expectations for his student’s work.

Then, as he flipped open the art book, the smile on his face gradually disappeared, his brows furrowing into a deep line.

These paintings, slightly raw in their strokes, whether vibrant or muted in colors, seed to express an emotion—loneliness, helplessness, despair.

What had his student been through?

Actually, to the present Alia Wright, these paintings didn’t pose much issue because there was still a semblance of vitality.

Like a pitiful child leading a tragic life, she still believed the world was beautiful, that the future held hope.

But now...

Robert Reed closed the art book, not saying much, taking Alia Wright to Ink Manor.

Jade and Gold Pavilion and Ink Manor were the two unique places in Riverwood City.

Jade and Gold Pavilion was the hub for auctions, filled with gowns, jewelry, sparkling in fine brilliance.

Ink Manor specialized in books and artworks; rare editions, genuine pieces from masters, could all be found here.

Ink Manor was founded single-handedly by Robert Reed. As he led Alia Wright inside, many craned their necks to sneak a peek.

Until Robert Reed took Alia Wright to the third floor.

The third floor of Ink Manor was Robert Reed’s private studio—no one else had been up there, everyone in the circle knew that Old Mr. Reed had taken on a student.

Today, seeing Old Mr. Reed bring this young student to his private studio at Ink Manor, it was clear the importance he placed on her.

A super large studio, walls, floors, corners filled with paintings.

Seeing these full colors and majestic, flowing lines, Alia Wright’s heart slowly settled.

After taking Alia on a tour, Robert Reed spoke, "How is it? Being my student isn’t bad, right? If you like any paintings here, take them as you please, no need to let that guy from the Shaw family spend money buying them."

Alia Wright nodded; it truly wasn’t bad.

These paintings, if auctioned off, could surely create a tycoon.

But her teacher probably wasn’t lacking in money.

Otherwise, how could he be so generous with this student?

As Robert Reed spoke, he had already brought out paints, prepared blank papers, and then told Alia Wright,

"Nothing to do anyway, let’s have you take a test today. Take divinity as the the and make a painting. I’ll take a look at your skill and figure out the direction for your teaching."

Alia Wright hesitated slightly; her current painting style was too eerie and dark to reveal casually.

But the teacher before her was soone she willingly apprenticed under, and since she did, one day he’d discover the issues with her works.

Alia Wright nodded in agreent.

Divinity?

Alia Wright closed her eyes slightly; naturally, in her mind, ca forth an image of the painting she envisioned.

The brush fell onto the paper.

Broad swathes of ink spread out.

Robert Reed sat nearby, slowly observing, full of patience.

They say handwriting reveals character, painting reveals the person.

Watching soone paint might reveal a thing or two.

Robert Reed wanted to understand what had happened to this little student of his to create such an art book.

Ti ticked away.

Alia Wright remained imrsed in her painting, as if nothing existed but those contrasts in colors.

Robert Reed’s expression grew more solemn.

After so unknown ti, Alia Wright laid down her brush.

She seed overly fatigued, her energy drained, her small face appeared even paler.

On the paper, broad swathes of dark hues, a divine figure with a detached face, walked the earth in a white robe.

But beneath his feet, the vivid red mixed with dark mud, countless sinister hands stretched from the earth grabbing at the divine figure, one even clutched his foot.

The white garnt contrasted starkly with the blood-stained mud.

Alia Wright slightly bowed her head.

In this world, there are no gods; if there were, why didn’t they save her in her past life?

The so-called divine figure is rely an illusory comfort; let’s all be dragged into this hell.

The darkness and madness in her heart couldn’t be concealed in her paintings.

After Alia Wright stopped painting for a while, Robert Reed ca back to his senses.

He seed utterly stunned; he thought that the Red Plum Blossom Painting and the art book he had seen before already embodied so repression and despair.

But having witnessed this painting up close today, he realized his imaginations fell far short.

What did she go through to beco this way?

Robert Reed solemnly said, "Alia, this world isn’t only made of darkness and despair."

Robert Reed had always addressed Alia Wright as his young student; this was the first ti he seriously and sternly called her by na.

Alia Wright still bowed her head, her voice slightly hoarse as she said, "But I... can only see the dark."

Robert Reed’s heart trembled.

It reminded him of his youth, the child’s accident, the passing of his wife, important people leaving one by one, despair overwheld him like a tide, even after thirty years, he couldn’t forget that pain.

He hadn’t remarried, remained bad-tempered, close to no one.

Until he saw the Red Plum Blossom Painting, the pain in the painting had a resonance with him, birthing a desire to take on a student.

But the pain and despair experienced through multiple farewells, what could have possibly happened to this young student for her to feel even more intense agony?

Robert Reed suddenly reached out and gently ruffled Alia Wright’s head, saying softly, "Don’t be afraid, you have a teacher now."