"You're too impulsive; you weren't like this before."
After everyone had dispersed, Hughes' face immediately turned serious as he began to reprimand Ethan.
"Don't you know about his strength in classical painting? His connections in the Royal Capital are not to be underestimated either. Yet, you still choose his strongest field. Don't you know how good his painting 'The Faerie of Spring' is? And talking about skilled laborers—are you implying you want me to ghostwrite for you? I can't paint better than him."
Seeing the old man blowing his beard and glaring, Ethan couldn't help but want to laugh.
"Don't worry, teacher, I've got a plan."
Listening to Ethan's words, Hughes sighed: "Forget it. I can't control you anymore. If you really can't explain it then, just say I painted it and forced you to do it this way. I'm old, it's no big deal to lose a little reputation. But you're different..."
Hearing these words, Ethan felt a bit touched.
