With the divorce finally settled, Yunshu’s visit time was over and she had to return to Guangzhou.
When she heard Grandma was leaving, Su Niannian’s little face crumpled and her eyes reddened—she was clearly holding back tears. She clung to Yunshu’s arm, burying her head in her grandmother’s embrace. “Grandma, I don’t want you to go,” she mumbled.
Yunshu stroked her granddaughter’s head tenderly. “Niannian, Grandma will miss you too. But it’s okay—when you have winter break, come to Guangzhou early and visit Grandma, alright?”
She paused, remembering something. “Have your uncle come from Nanjing when he’s headed home, and he can pick you up in Shanghai. Then you can take the train together to Guangzhou.”
The uncle Yunshu mentioned was Su Minyan, Su Minzhi’s little brother, currently a senior studying architecture at Nanjing Institute of Technology.
Thinking about winter vacation, Niannian cheered up a little and nodded obediently. “Mm, I’ll miss Grandma.”
At school, the math bell had just rung when the teacher walked in holding a stack of graded papers, a pleased smile she could hardly hide.
She didn’t hand the papers out immediately. First she praised the whole class for their progress on this unit test, then raised her voice slightly and announced, “I’m especially happy this time—because two students scored full marks!”
Instantly the classroom erupted in applause and excited murmurs as everyone guessed who they were.
“The first full mark goes to Li Yuancheng.” No one was surprised—he’d always been the math ace.
The teacher smiled and turned her gaze, clearly saying, “The second full mark goes to—Su Niannian!”
Applause broke out again. Many classmates turned to look at Niannian in astonishment. Li Yuancheng sat at his desk feeling oddly conflicted when he heard the name.
Perfect scores were routine for him—he practically lived on math contest problems after class, chewing through tough and weird questions.
But his deskmate Su Niannian? She had no interest in olympiad math; she always refused invitations to study it.
In class she often propped her chin on one hand, her eyes drifting to the window, lost in thought; after class she never discussed problems—she’d eagerly pull out picture-storybooks and read them with great pleasure.
She used to read Sun Wukong’s Three Battles with the White Bone Demon, and now she’d moved on to Wu Song Fights the Tiger. Whenever the fight scenes got exciting, her eyes widened and her small fists clenched—she was totally absorbed in the comic-strip world.
What puzzled Li Yuancheng even more was that she sometimes took out a little notebook and sketched.
He had sneaked glances before and noticed she seemed to be drawing Nezha from Journey to the West, but not exactly—her Nezha had two uneven little buns on his head, eyes so big they took up half his face, a look that was both cocky and cute.
“Could she really be a genius among geniuses? Daydreaming in class, reading picture books at recess, and still get full marks?” Li Yuancheng muttered inwardly, his frustration mixing with curiosity.
He prided himself on being smart and hardworking, firmly holding the top spot—yet someone could now effortlessly tie with him. It challenged everything he believed.
That evening at his desk, homework waiting, he still mulled over it. He glanced at the row of thick books on his shelf—the Hua Luogeng Math Competition Guide, Olympiad Math Practice and Tests—then looked at the well-thumbed picture books tucked in Niannian’s desk. Suddenly a bold, absurd idea popped into his head:
“Maybe… reading comics develops intelligence and makes you smarter? Maybe I should buy some picture books too?” He was surprised by the thought and almost laughed.
Meanwhile Niannian carefully folded her perfect-score paper and slid it into her bag, already planning how to tell her mother the good news tonight—and to ask for a new picture book as a reward.
She hummed a tuneless song as she walked home, light-footed and unaware that she had already become a huge mystery in the mind of her studious deskmate.
Su Minzhi always respected her daughter’s interests and wishes when it came to education.
So when she discovered Niannian’s strong interest in picture-storybooks, she didn’t forbid them as many parents would—claiming they’d harm studies. Instead, she treated it as an opportunity to cultivate reading and aesthetic taste.
She carefully selected books in bookstores, considering everything from art style to text. She chose adaptations of classics—Dream of the Red Chamber, Romance of the Three Kingdoms—as well as revolutionary-themed stories like Railway Guerrillas and Red Crag. She even searched out picture-book versions of foreign classics such as The Count of Monte Cristo, giving Niannian another cultural lens on the world.
Su Minzhi believed these comics, though simple in form, were rich in content: they could nurture reading habits and subtly raise literary taste and aesthetic sense.
One day while tidying the room, she unexpectedly found a stack of hand-drawn comic drafts on her daughter’s desk—and she was deeply stunned.
What surprised her most was that these sketches weren’t random doodles. They contained complete storylines, each panel accompanied by concise captions.
“Niannian, did you draw these?” Su Minzhi asked, holding the pages with a tone of incredulous delight.
Niannian blushed and nodded shyly. “I thought those picture books were really interesting, so I wanted to try drawing one myself.”
Su Minzhi flipped through the drafts page by page, growing more astonished. Her daughter’s imagination and creativity far exceeded expectations.
Niannian then pulled out a thicker, more finished set of drawings from a drawer. “This story is called The Legend of Nezha. I want to submit it to Shanghai People’s Fine Arts Publishing House.”
Su Minzhi examined the sheets more closely. Although the tale drew from traditional myth, Niannian had woven in much of her own interpretation and innovation.
“If Shanghai People’s Fine Arts accepts my manuscript,” Niannian said, voice full of hope and excitement, “I plan to draw about a hundred panels to make a complete picture-book.”
Su Minzhi crouched to meet her daughter’s eye level and looked into those clear, focused eyes that held passion beyond her years. She was moved and proud.
She reached out, gently took her daughter’s small hand, and said softly but firmly, “Mom supports you.”
Those five simple words contained a mother’s wholehearted backing of her daughter’s dream.
Su Minzhi understood: perhaps the submission would fail, perhaps this was only a fleeting interest—but she was willing to accompany her daughter, to try with her, to chase and learn through every step of the journey.