Jiang Yu and Shen Zhiwei had exchanged contact information and beyond discussing the Liangshan heroes painting, they also chatted about other topics. Over time, they developed a friendship.
Shen Zhiwei was particularly fond of Jiang Yu’s artwork. According to her, Jiang Yu’s paintings had a warmth to them – like sunlight – that made people feel at ease.
In a way, Shen Zhiwei could be considered one of Jiang Yu’s fans. So, when she saw the chaos unfolding in the comments under Jiang Yu’s Weibo post, she didn’t care about the time and immediately called her.
“…These haters are aggressive. They don’t seem like ordinary trolls but rather an organised and disciplined group. In other words, someone might be deliberately targeting you,” Shen Zhiwei said, her years of experience in the entertainment industry making her keenly aware of online smear campaigns. These hired attackers were commonly referred to as ‘water armies’.
Jiang Yu scrolled through Weibo, seeing the overwhelming negativity flooding her comments. Her fans were struggling against the haters, some getting so angry they seemed ready to explode. A few more combative fans were fighting back fiercely, but overall, the haters had the upper hand, controlling the narrative on her Weibo page.
Jiang Yu was confused. “I don’t think I’ve offended anyone. Who would go to such great lengths to slander me?”
She was just an artist who posted her paintings online. Her works were beautiful and naturally attracted some fans who appreciated her style. But even so, she had only a little over ten thousand followers – not enough to make waves on Weibo. Why would anyone hire a smear campaign against her?
“From the comments, it looks like it’s related to The Ladle Chronicles.”
“The Ladle Chronicles?”
“You haven’t heard of it? When The Ladle Chronicles was serialised, it was extremely popular – practically a top-tier IP. Its author, Xia An, is a well-established writer. For illustrators, working on this project is a great opportunity.”
Jiang Yu found it a coincidence – before today, she had no idea what The Ladle Chronicles was. But just this morning, Xu Ruyi had mentioned it to her, so she had a vague impression of it now.
Recalling what Xu Ruyi had said, Jiang Yu had a strange thought. With a complicated expression, she asked, “Am I… the newbie illustrator?”
She quickly dismissed the idea. “That’s impossible. No one has contacted me.”
Shen Zhiwei rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “If someone is trying to smear you, it means there’s at least some truth to the rumour. Otherwise, why would anyone bother targeting an unknown artist? Of course, there’s a chance you were caught in the crossfire, but I think the former is more likely.”
Shen Zhiwei was lying in bed, holding her iPad while scrolling through Weibo. Her Persian cat curled up in her arms, its bright blue eyes staring at the screen. The cat, unable to resist, stretched out a paw and playfully swiped at her phone.
“Behave, sweetheart,” Shen Zhiwei said, petting the cat before turning back to Jiang Yu. “Regardless of who’s behind this, your priority now is to clarify things and refute the false accusations. It’s honestly ridiculous – they’re claiming your paintings are actually photos just because they’re too realistic. These haters clearly have no taste.”
Jiang Yu thought for a moment and came up with an idea. “How about this – I’ll hold a giveaway. The prize will be one of my paintings. The winners can choose any artwork I’ve posted on Weibo. That way, the rumours will collapse on their own.”
After all, the paintings were right there. It would be obvious that they weren’t photos.
Shen Zhiwei stroked her cat’s chin. “That could work, but people might claim the giveaway is rigged and that the winners are in on it.”
That was possible…
Jiang Yu chuckled, unconcerned. “Let them say whatever they want. I don’t care about online opinions. I know my own skills better than anyone.”
Shen Zhiwei nodded. She admired Jiang Yu’s talent and knew she was the real deal.
“For other illustrators, The Ladle Chronicles might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but for you, it doesn’t seem that important.”
Shen Zhiwei continued petting her cat. “I can tell, Jiang Yu – you have bigger ambitions. And I admire people like you.”
Jiang Yu wasn’t particularly interested in The Ladle Chronicles. She had taken commissions in the past simply because she needed money. Now that she was financially stable, she wasn’t keen on illustrating manhua.
The conversation shifted back to Shen Zhiwei’s Liangshan heroes painting.
Jiang Yu took a sip of water, walked over to her desk and said, “I’ve finished 46 characters so far. I’ll take a picture and send it to you – see what you think.”
The painting depicted a large ensemble of characters, starting from the top with Song Jiang. Beside him, Jiang Yu had written his name in elegant calligraphy. Her brushwork was graceful, exuding a sense of effortless freedom.
Jiang Yu had deliberately practised her calligraphy, mastering multiple styles. Different paintings required different scripts, so she put in the effort to refine her skills.
Song Jiang stood at the forefront, followed by the other heroes of Liangshan, arranged one below the other.
The painting had a warm, aged yellow tone, giving it a slightly antique look – perfect for portraying historical figures. Each character’s expression and attire reflected their personality, making them feel lifelike.
“How is it? What do you think?” Jiang Yu asked after sending the picture.
“I love it! I couldn’t be more satisfied!”
On the other end of the call, Shen Zhiwei had sat up straight, abandoning her previous relaxed posture. Her cat, which had been lounging on her stomach, rolled onto the bed in confusion, staring blankly at its excited owner.
Staring at the painting on her iPad, Shen Zhiwei’s eyes sparkled with admiration. She was ecstatic. “Jiang Yu, your character work is incredible! Every hero’s personality is so vividly portrayed – this is exactly what I wanted. I knew I made the right choice hiring you.”
She couldn’t help but feel proud of her decision. Trusting Jiang Yu despite her young age had been the right move. And now, she had a painting that was worth far more than what she had paid.
In fact, as she looked at it now, she felt like she had underpaid. With this level of craftsmanship, this artwork should be worth at least a million.
Even her cousin, a so-called young painting prodigy, wasn’t as skilled as Jiang Yu.
Hearing Shen Zhiwei’s praise, Jiang Yu chuckled. “As long as you’re happy with it. But this painting will take some time to complete. Besides drawing, I still have schoolwork – high school courses are tougher than I expected.”
The coursework was intense and teachers packed the students’ schedules to the brim, leaving them little time for anything other than studying and doing practice tests.
Jiang Yu spent most of her time either working on Shen Zhiwei’s painting or studying. Occasionally, she drew for relaxation, but even then, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day.
Shen Zhiwei nodded in understanding. “I almost forgot – you’re still in high school. Wait… are you even an adult yet? If not, am I exploiting child labour?”
Jiang Yu: “…”
Her silence gave Shen Zhiwei the answer.
She rubbed her forehead. “So I really am exploiting child labour… Every time I see your artwork, I forget how young you are. Your skill is way beyond your years.”
“My teacher says I was born to paint… Maybe I was a famous artist in my past life,” Jiang Yu joked.
Shen Zhiwei laughed. “Who knows? Maybe you really were.”
After chatting a bit more, Shen Zhiwei went to apply a face mask while Jiang Yu drafted a Weibo post announcing the giveaway.
Her fans were thrilled. Her artwork was stunning – owning one would be a dream.
As for the haters? Well, they were still at it. But Jiang Yu’s fans had shifted their focus to the giveaway, ignoring the trolls. Xiang Weiwei even encouraged everyone to stop engaging with them.
After all, what was the point of arguing with people who only knew how to spread negativity?
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