My Wife is a Hidden Big Shot-Chapter 196 - 190: Detrimental to Family Harmony
After Aurora Sinclair left, Professor Sherman grew more and more delighted as he examined the paintings. Using a magnifying glass, he compared the two works. The brushstrokes were truly identical—from the direction of the ink flow to the color of the ink, the technique was virtually the same.
Traditional Chinese painting emphasizes the varying shades of ink. The interplay of water and ink is said to create five colors: clear, pale, dark, heavy, and charred. These different ink tones are used to express layers, distance, and the play of light and shadow within the painting.
He couldn’t believe someone as young as Aurora Sinclair had such a profound mastery of traditional painting. She must have been painting since she was a small child. Her talent was exceptional.
"Professor, isn’t this painting from The Calligraphy Association? Why was it painted by Aurora Sinclair?" a student suddenly asked in confusion.
Professor Sherman froze, his brow furrowing. He turned to look for Joyce Guthrie, but she had already left the classroom.
Outside, Joyce Guthrie’s expression was as dark as it could be. She hadn’t expected Aurora Sinclair’s painting skills to be so superb. No wonder Master Flora Guthrie had taken her as an apprentice.
Damn it!
Joyce Guthrie’s nails dug viciously into her palms, a crazed glint flashing in her usually composed eyes.
Meanwhile, Dean Hale of the Academy of Arts made a surprising appearance outside the physics laboratory. He was currently chatting with Chester Greene just outside the lab, looking agitated and glancing inside from time to time as if searching for someone.
A post had just gone viral on the university forum. It contained several short videos of Aurora Sinclair creating the traditional painting.
Now, all the professors at the Academy of Arts were in an uproar. They had stormed the dean’s office, all wanting to recruit Aurora Sinclair for their respective project teams.
Among them was a senior member from the main branch of the Veridian Calligraphy Association, who happened to be in charge of a national-level project for restoring ancient paintings and calligraphy.
This project was incredibly prestigious. The wars of the past had destroyed much of Veridia’s cultural heritage, and his project was dedicated to restoring these cultural treasures and carrying on the legacy of that former glory.
The moment Dean Hale heard about this, he couldn’t sit still. He immediately hopped on his bicycle and rode straight from the Academy of Arts to the College of Physics.
Aurora Sinclair’s class schedule was a hot topic on the Arcadian University forums, so a quick search was all it took to find out which classroom she was in.
Dean Hale was in such a hurry he was practically trying to turn his bicycle into a mythical Wind and Fire Wheel.
But he didn’t expect to run right into the notoriously difficult Chester Greene the moment he arrived at the lab’s entrance. Greene promptly blocked him from going inside.
"Greene, this is extremely urgent. Can you please be a little flexible?"
Chester Greene remained perfectly composed. "I’m afraid not. Aurora Sinclair has already joined our project team. Now isn’t the time for distractions."
Hearing this, Dean Hale knew he was just being difficult. "What you say doesn’t count. I need to ask the person in question."
"It doesn’t matter who you ask. She doesn’t have time." Chester Greene wore a roguish expression that clearly said, ’What I say goes,’ infuriating Dean Hale so much he nearly coughed up blood.
"Chester Greene—" Dean Hale shouted, his neck stiff with anger. "This is a national project! Don’t make us issue a formal notice."
But Chester Greene wasn’t scared of him. When it came to being stubborn, he was famously one of the toughest nuts to crack in the College of Physics. "According to the university’s project application regulations, unless she applies for the project herself, any submission you make on her behalf is a violation and will be invalid. The chancellor won’t approve it..."
"You..." Dean Hale thought of the chancellor, who was always on the same side as Greene, and ground his teeth in frustration.
The two men argued outside the lab until they were red in the face, their voices raised. Fortunately, the laboratories were all soundproof, so they didn’t end up embarrassing themselves in front of the students.
***
At the same time, in his office, Benjamin Morgan suddenly received a message from Ray Morgan, whom he hadn’t heard from in a while.
[Ray: Pip, the madam wants you to send her all of Aurora Sinclair’s files.]
Benjamin Morgan’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly replied:
[Benjamin: Ray, what happened? Why does the madam suddenly want Aurora’s files?]
[Ray: The madam just received a phone call. She’s not in a good mood.]
Benjamin Morgan’s brow furrowed instantly. For some reason, he suddenly thought of Joyce Guthrie, and a bad feeling washed over him.
Their madam had a straightforward and decisive personality. She was usually busy with company matters and didn’t meddle too much in her son’s affairs.
For her to suddenly demand an investigation into Aurora Sinclair meant that something must have happened involving Aurora that crossed one of her lines.
And at that moment, in the chairman’s office of the Morgan Group, a woman in a business suit and light makeup was sitting behind her desk, looking at a computer.
Her hair was pulled back in an immaculate bun, and her eyes conveyed an air of sharp competence.
Yvonne Whitlock was scrolling through various pieces of gossip about Aurora Sinclair on the Arcadian University forums.
One post in particular, titled "The Female King of the Seas," made her extremely uncomfortable.
’If Joyce hadn’t called me today to check in and casually brought up Aurora Sinclair, I would have never known the girl was so... capable!’
The Guthrie Family, the Lowell Family, the Warren Family, the Alden Family... so many young masters from the Great Families were apparently infatuated with her.
’When a girl is put on a pedestal by so many boys, it’s inevitable she’d get some ideas. No wonder she’s been stringing my son along this whole time, refusing to acknowledge their relationship.’
"Ray, isn’t Benjamin done yet?" The angrier Yvonne Whitlock got, the more she read. She slammed her hand on the desk and glared at him.
Ray Morgan’s expression tightened. He looked down at his phone and sent another message to hurry his junior, Pip.
Just then, a phone rang in the room. Yvonne Whitlock glanced at the caller ID—it was her son, who hadn’t contacted her in a long time.
She snorted. "A son is a son ’til he gets a wife..."
Then she swiped to answer, put the call on speaker, and tossed the phone aside.
Alvin Morgan’s cool, aloof voice immediately came through the speaker. "What are you trying to do?"
Yvonne rolled her eyes and retorted irritably, "I’m just trying to learn a little about the girl my son has his eye on. Is that a crime?"
"Did Joyce Guthrie call you?"
Yvonne reflexively checked her phone. "You brat, did you hack my phone again?"
"You don’t trust me?"
Yvonne’s brow furrowed. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her son’s judgment. It was just that the content of these photos was hard to believe. She suspected her son was so busy with work that he had no idea about any of this.
She grew even angrier when she came across several different photos of Jensen Guthrie and Aurora Sinclair together. "What’s going on with her and that Guthrie boy?" she demanded. "They’re seen coming and going together, even going out to eat?"
A few system sounds, DING! DING!, were heard, and her computer suddenly went out of her control.
"You brat!" Yvonne’s face darkened with annoyance.
With a few keystrokes from Alvin’s end, the photos on her screen reverted to their original state. It turned out that in every picture, Joyce Guthrie or other people were also present. They were hardly private dates.
Immediately after, her son’s rather flat voice came from the phone: "It’s a low-effort photoshop job."
Yvonne’s prejudice began to fade a little.
"But there are still too many boys around her..."
Before she could finish her sentence, her brat of a son remotely closed the gossip thread and opened the homepage of the Arcadian University forums for her.
At the very top were several brand-new posts about Aurora Sinclair.
[Top Student and Campus Belle is a Painting Genius, Perfectly Replicates Ten Thousand Miles of Mountains and Rivers!]
[The Calligraphy Association’s ’Ten Thousand Miles of Mountains and Rivers’ Was Actually Painted by Aurora Sinclair?]
[Top Student and Campus Belle Aurora Sinclair Recommended for Direct Admission to Military Academy...]
Yvonne stared at the post titles, utterly shocked. Leaving aside the military academy, *Ten Thousand Miles of Mountains and Rivers* was a national treasure-level scroll. The Calligraphy Association only had a replica, supposedly a copy made by Master Flora Guthrie herself.
’Could it be that Aurora Sinclair was the one who painted that replica?’
If that were true, then she was nothing short of a genius in traditional painting. No wonder Master Flora Guthrie had taken her as an apprentice.
Alvin’s indifferent voice came through the phone again. "I’ve cleaned up your phone. Be more careful about the friends you keep in the future."
Yvonne immediately snatched up her phone. All the contact information for her "goddaughters" had vanished.
"You brat! You only needed to delete one, why did you delete them all?"
"They were detrimental to family harmony."
Yvonne was speechless with anger. She rolled her eyes again. "Why don’t you actually win the girl’s heart before you start talking!"
"..."
"Since Aurora Sinclair is so outstanding, she’s bound to attract a swarm of suitors. You, an old bee, might not be able to compete with all those diligent little bees."
The call on the other end abruptly disconnected.
Yvonne froze for a second, then burst out laughing, causing Ray Morgan to take two steps back.
"Ray, have the car prepared..."
"Where are you going, Ma’am?"
"To Arcadian University, to see my future daughter-in-law. And don’t you dare snitch, or else..." Yvonne gave him a look that was half-smile, half-threat.
Ray Morgan’s heart suddenly clenched. He silently apologized to his boss and nodded before heading out.
He really didn’t want to experience his madam’s methods of punishment ever again.
The memory of being surrounded by dozens of middle-aged women made him shiver.
