Love is not a math test; you can’t score it with fixed right or wrong answers.

Gu Weijing’s brushwork still seemed a bit immature, with strokes weaving complex lines on the canvas, like a fledgling learning to build a nest with small twigs and feathers for the first time.

It is not without flaws.

Koizumi Katsuko had seen many masterful paintings in the gallery, strokes almost perfect and flawless, but she particularly loved this painting before her eyes.

Not just because the picture was painted well, but because she loved the sense of resonance, and because she loved the person holding the brush.

Love is an irrational affection.

It’s like judging from social status, wealth, resources, and other universal social mate selection standards,

If there were professionals like bank asset credit evaluators carefully crafting a meticulously made "quality lover ranking list."

Everyone might think Koshiba Tarou could score 95 or even 98 points as a boyfriend, while Gu Weijing might barely make 60 points.

The vast distance between potential stock and blue-chip stocks is generations of wealth accumulation and countless fortunate choices of seizing opportunities.

There may be at least thirty limit-ups in between.

In East Asia, a place full of competition, geniuses are worthless.

In this world with eight billion people, there are close to one million who possess one-in-a-million talent.

Talented art students might not be as commonplace as cabbages, but those who can convert talent into money are always few.

But the moment Miss Sakai fell in love with him, all the scores lost their meaning.

Even if someone were to slam such a list in front of her, like a bank manager pitching insurance, begging: "Miss, take a look, don’t be foolish, after our evaluation, Koshiba Tarou is the most suitable for you. See, their family can sell paintings worth ten million dollars a year, their assets are as solid as gold, marry him, and you can hold art exhibitions however you like."

Koizumi Katsuko would still tear the list to pieces without saying a word, because she doesn’t love Koshiba.

Miss Sakai clung to Gu Weijing’s neck like a koala for a long time before letting go, her face still flushed with excitement.

"I want to make a part of this painting my main icon on INS, is that okay?"

Koizumi Katsuko covered the canvas with her left hand, holding her phone with the other to seek Gu Weijing’s opinion.

She used her palm to block the essential composition and one-third of the main subject of the painting, keeping only the foreground and part of the ink details, as well as Uncle Ah Lai’s figure outline.

Paintings are afraid of having their composition and creativity plagiarized,

The rendering of ink details depends on the painter’s skill. Technique is something that cannot be stolen; the museum is filled with paintings far superior to this one, so there’s no fear of showing it to others.

"If you want to take a photo, just take it; there’s no need to block it, right?"

Gu Weijing, a local in Yangon, still had a student mindset and hadn’t developed such sophisticated copyright protection awareness as Miss Sakai.

"No, its first complete appearance shouldn’t be on my INS." Koizumi Katsuko said seriously, "I’m looking forward to that moment this summer when it draws the world’s attention."

Koizumi Katsuko not only updated her main icon on INS but also synced the draft to her photo wall, captioning it—[MY LOVER].

My beloved,

A double entendre.

The girl newly in love wants to announce to the world,

She is in love.

"After a few months, when I finish the limitations of this agency contract, I’ll post our intimate photos." Shengzi said to Gu Weijing with slight regret.

"You have an agency contract?"

Gu Weijing wasn’t too surprised; given Koizumi Katsuko’s abilities and resources, it would be strange if no gallery paid attention to her.

"The Tokyo Gallery + BTAP new artist agency contract, lasting six years, during which from age twelve to eighteen, including various allowances and creation grants, their foundation account delivers me a salary check of about twelve thousand dollars annually and fully reimburses my international airfare to overseas art galleries for inspiration, with no fixed creation requirements, just some minor constraints."

Koizumi Katsuko shook her head explaining: "In short, it’s like they spend six years’ worth of money to buy a priority signing right after debut."

She is currently under a management contract.

This contract was a prize for winning the gold award in the Asian Foundation-hosted All Japan Juvenile Artist Competition.

Such activities are abundant in Japan, Korea, and Singapore.

The musical string group’s champion reward was a five-year performance use of an antique violin from 1832, whereas the visual arts group’s champion could receive the new artist contract from Japan’s oldest art gallery—the Tokyo Gallery.

She is not considered a formally represented artist of the Tokyo Gallery, akin to a youth training contract for a football team, except the sum is nowhere near "youth training."

In the art industry, it’s drought for some, flood for others.

High earning of one million dollars, ten million dollars, or even tens of millions of fixed salaries are not unusual.

But a twelve-thousand-dollar annual salary has firmly stepped into the international artist’s threshold.

Currently, the vast majority of mid-level painters are in this income range.

Koizumi Katsuko is favored because of her good image, her famous father, and the Tokyo Gallery is willing to take a gamble, which also includes hiring Koizumi Katsuko as their juvenile artist image promotion ambassador’s pay.

The normal gold award contract for emerging talents over six years totals at only ten thousand dollars.