Guan Qi shook her head, her tone very firm, "An imperfect work of art doesn't need to be kept."
That sentence inexplicably made Lin Zhi's heart skip a beat.
But it made sense; she was a top-tier painter who strove for perfection, and she couldn't settle for less in her works.
Just then, Guan Qi's assistant walked in, and upon seeing the painting torn up, she said with heartache, "Professor, why have you torn it again? This is the third time!"
Guan Qi's expression seemed a bit tired, but her voice remained gentle and soft, "It's okay, I can just paint it again."
"But you've been painting for half a year now, and your belly is getting bigger. If you keep painting, your body won't be able to handle it!"
"Half a year?" Lin Zhi expressed her surprise.
Guan Qi smiled and said, "Yes, typically it takes me about half a year or a year to create a painting."
"You're so amazing." No wonder her artwork sold for such high prices; after all, she had put in so much effort.