He Xiyan sat in front of the easel, picked up his paintbrush, and carefully observed the man in front of him. The brush in his hand moved slightly, deep and shallow, and in a few moments, a rough outline was outlined.

"Jiahang, don't laugh." When the expression was drawn, He Xiyan reminded him. This guy laughs every time he takes pictures and paints.

Chen Jiahang obediently no longer showed his signature smile, but sat on the stool seriously.

"Yan Yan, you have to paint me handsome."

He Xiyan: ......

He Xiyan continued the paintings in her hands, especially when she painted the face, she was very careful and serious, and every stroke was just right.

Normally, a sketch takes only 20 minutes to complete, but this time she drew it in 40 minutes.

When she was done, she put down her pen and looked at the drawing in front of her.

Jia Hang is seen sitting on a wooden chair with a book in his hand. He seemed to be reading very seriously, with that kind of attentive look between his eyebrows, and then looking at his face, he was very handsome, and his facial features were three-dimensional like carvings.

In fact, Jia Hang has a pair of very deep eyes, and that kind of profundity has an unpredictable calmness every time he is serious.

He Xiyan has painted more than a dozen paintings for Jiahang, I don't know why, she always feels that the Jiahang in her paintings is not the same as the Jiahang in reality.

It's the same with this one.

Chen Jiahang saw that He Xiyan finished painting, walked over happily, and looked at the handsome self in the painting, he showed a satisfied smile. In lip language:

"Yan Yan, you are so good at drawing!"

He Xiyan smiled faintly, she just put the painting away. Then put away the easel and everything. 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 the car on a lawn, and there was a short and dark man who got out of the car with him. The man's name is Wang Zhi, he is thirty-eight years old, and his appearance can be described as ugly, especially the scar on his face, which looks hideous and terrifying.

Such two men stand together, in stark contrast, one tall and handsome, the other short and ugly. The picture is somewhat comical.

It was already more than nine o'clock in the evening, the moon was dark and the wind was high, and the countryside without street lights looked pitch black, only a few houses not far away were still lit, but the lights were also very dim and dim.

Mo Yixuan stood on the lawn, the dew wet his short hair on his forehead, she stared at the faint light with a hesitant look.

He had followed the navigation to this village an hour earlier, and because it was night, he could not see the village as it was, so he could only ask for directions from a house with a light on.

He felt incredible, how could his Yan Yan come to such a backward place, there was not even a straight road, could it be that this Chen Yan was not Yan Yan at all, but just very similar.

What was expected turned into doubt. The huge gap made Mo Yixuan look very lost for a while, he took out the cigarette in his pocket, handed one to Wang Zhi, and smoked one himself.

"Which household?" Mo Yixuan asked Wang Zhi.

Wang Zhi pointed to a light five hundred meters away, the house at the foot of the mountain, but because it was too dark, he couldn't see the original appearance of the house.

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

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