I Became an All-round Artist

In the following days, Lin Yuan continued his routine, traveling between the classroom and the art club, maintaining his pace of teaching two students sketching each day.

What he didn’t notice was that Zhong Yu had been quietly huddling with other club members recently, whispering about some "big news" he was cooking up.

Of course, even if Lin Yuan had noticed, he wouldn’t have cared.

After teaching sketching for so many days, Lin Yuan began to consider whether he should expand his lessons to include more common techniques like gouache and watercolor, broadening his clientele. However, when he thought about how overwhelmed he already was just teaching sketching, he decided to put that idea on hold for now.

There’s no rush. There will be plenty of time in the future.

He planned to teach every type of painting eventually, even the most challenging—Chinese painting. The blessing of being a "Teacher" was his confidence in teaching.

Besides, the system had mentioned it: the more people he taught, the more effective the "Teacher's Blessing" would become.

Once the blessing became potent enough, Lin Yuan would have no choice but to raise his rates. And rightfully so.

This was Lin Yuan's greatest motivation for teaching.

Speaking of money, Lin Yuan’s favorite day of the month was the fifth.

The fifth of every month was a good day.

April 5th was one such good day.

Because on this day, his salary account would receive a large deposit!

However...

This time, when Lin Yuan received the bank notification, he was pleasantly surprised!

He discovered that even after taxes, his royalties from the songs this month exceeded 600,000 yuan.

In fact, Lin Yuan’s royalties had been steadily increasing each month because he now had four songs earning him money simultaneously.

The more songs, the faster the income!

Adding in last month's sales revenue from Prince of Tennis, the side income from teaching at the art club, and the signing fee for his short story with Tribe Literature…

All in all, his total income last month surpassed three million!

This was the first time Lin Yuan had earned this much money, and for a moment, he almost wanted to ask the system for a list of works he could use to make even more.

But after some thought, he decided there was no need to rush.

When he really needed something, he could spend his points on it later. Too bad the company hadn't assigned him any new orders lately.

“Spending points,” Lin Yuan mused.

He didn’t like that term.

If someone had told him earlier that one day he would be spending points to achieve a goal, he would’ve thought they were joking.

As the saying goes: luck doesn’t change with magic, and fate doesn’t change with points.

But Lin Yuan realized that if he truly wanted to change his fate, there was no way around spending points. After all, how else would he earn prestige?

At Starlight Entertainment.

On the 10th floor, in the Composition Department, the composers were busy with their work.

Suddenly, a man in a black coat appeared at the doorway.

One of the staff members in the department noticed him and abruptly stood up, stammering, “M-Mentor…”

“What’s wrong?” Wu Yong, who was nearby, followed his colleague’s gaze, and his eyes widened in shock. He blurted out, “Master Yang is here!”

The words exploded like a bomb in the 10th-floor composition office.

Everyone stood up, their eyes filled with awe and disbelief as they looked at the calm, black-coated man.

“Mentor!”

“Good to see you, Mentor!”

“It’s been a while, Mentor!”

A chorus of greetings filled the room.

The black-coated man nodded and asked, “Where’s Old Zhou?”

Even a gold-certified composer wouldn’t dare to call the supervisor “Old Zhou,” but this man said it so naturally that no one in the department found it strange.

Because this man was the department’s only master composer—Yang Zhongming!

Wu Yong quickly responded, “Please wait a moment, Mentor. I’ll call the supervisor right now.”

“No need,” Yang Zhongming said, then walked over to the window.

When he arrived at the desk by the window, however, Yang Zhongming frowned slightly, his expression filled with confusion.

It was his desk.

He was the type of person who rarely came to the office.

But even so, the desk should have been spotless, cleaned daily.

After all, this was Yang Zhongming's desk.

Yet now, it was cluttered with books.

Books like The Complete Guide to Composition Theory, Simple Chord Explanations, and Three Easy Steps to Songwriting.

The mere sight of these books in Starlight’s composition department felt bizarre and out of place. Yang Zhongming stood there for a long time.

“Oh no!”

Seeing Yang Zhongming standing at Lin Yuan's desk, Wu Yong felt a jolt of panic.

Others in the department also exchanged nervous glances, their palms sweaty.

This desk used to belong to Master Yang.

But since he rarely came to the office, Supervisor Zhou had assigned it to Lin Yuan.

Many people had felt uneasy about this arrangement, worried that if Master Yang ever found out, there’d be trouble.

Now, their worst fears seemed to be coming true—Master Yang appeared to be upset.

“Here.”

Yang Zhongming gestured at the desk and asked in a neutral tone, “Who sits here?”

Master Yang really was upset!

Even though he wasn’t showing it, everyone could sense the tension. The entire department fell silent, no one daring to respond.

“Do I need to ask again?” Yang Zhongming swept his gaze across the room.

Wu Yong swallowed hard and forced himself to answer, “L-Lin Yuan…”

“Who’s Lin Yuan?”

Yang Zhongming’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Wu Yong, looking miserable, explained, “Mentor, please don’t be offended. He’s just a newcomer and didn’t know this was your desk. It was assigned by the supervisor…”

“That’s right!”

Several colleagues chimed in, trying to protect Lin Yuan from the impending storm: “The supervisor assigned it.”

“Xianyu didn’t know.”

“He thought no one was using the desk.”

There was no other way. Only the supervisor could stand up to Master Yang.

Yang Zhongming glanced out the window, his expression thoughtful. “Xianyu?”

Wu Yong’s face grew more pained. “Xianyu is Lin Yuan. Mentor, please don’t blame him—he’s still a college student and just recently joined our company. He doesn’t know anything yet…”

Yang Zhongming said nothing.

The others remained silent as well. While they all wanted to defend Lin Yuan, no one wanted to incur the wrath of Master Yang.

Lin Yuan would have to fend for himself.

But just when everyone thought Yang Zhongming was about to explode, the master composer suddenly nodded, gave a casual laugh, and said:

“Then it’s fine.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving the stunned composition department behind.

It was as if a storm had never arrived at all, disappearing without a trace.

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