Chapter 4Rebirth of the Artist They Buried Alive

I immediately called Professor Bennett.

When the call connected, her impatient voice came through.

"Eliza, have you thought it through? Are you here to admit your mistake, or are you still being stubborn?"

"Professor," I said calmly, "my thesis project is ready."

Professor Bennett paused: "You've painted another one?"

"Yes."

"I hope to hold a small personal exhibition in the school's art gallery before the National Young Artists Gold Medal Competition starts the day after tomorrow."

Professor Bennett was silent. She probably thought I had gone mad.

At a time when the plagiarism scandal was at its peak, not only was I not laying low, but I was actively stepping into the spotlight.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'm sure," my tone was firm, "I hope you and Vanessa will definitely attend."

The next day, my requested personal exhibition was held as scheduled in the school's art gallery.

Students and teachers who came to see the commotion packed the small exhibition hall.

Vanessa stood at the front of the crowd, arm in arm with Professor Bennett, her eyes full of disdain for me.

Everyone wanted to see what tricks this plagiarist would pull.

Under the spotlight of all eyes, I walked onto the stage carrying a painting covered with a black cloth.

I placed the painting on the easel, then lifted the black cloth.

On the canvas was an exquisitely beautiful work.

A low murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd.

This painting's technique was masterful, the concept ingenious, far surpassing previous works.

Vanessa's expression changed slightly the moment she saw the painting.

I could see the greed and jealousy flashing in her eyes.

I surveyed the audience, then did something that left everyone stunned.

I took out a lighter, lit it, then brought the flame close to a corner of the canvas.

"Eliza! What are you doing!"

Professor Bennett was the first to react, shouting at me sternly.

The flame licked the canvas, quickly spreading.

A masterpiece that had crystallized blood and sweat turned to ashes before everyone's eyes.

The audience was silent at first, then erupted into thunderous applause.

"Holy shit! This is performance art!"

"Using destruction to interpret rebirth? This concept is brilliant!"

"I knew Eliza was a genius. Her mind works differently from ours!"

Most people thought this was a carefully planned performance art piece, an artistic response to the plagiarism accusations.

They didn't understand it, but they were deeply shocked.

Only Vanessa turned pale, screaming out: "Are you crazy? Eliza, how dare you? How dare you treat art like this!"

She panicked.

Because only she knew that destroying my painting was equivalent to destroying hers.

The professors and classmates who had just praised me also changed their expressions, saying I was seeking attention and disrespecting art.

I dusted off my hands and looked at the pale-faced Vanessa.

"Why so agitated?" I curled my lips, "My painting is burned, but yours is still there, right?"

"Why don't you bring out the work you prepared for the competition now, and let everyone have a look?"

Vanessa was so stunned by me that she couldn't say a word, her eyes darting around as she stammered.

"My painting... is still undergoing final adjustments, it's not... not finished."

"Oh?"

I feigned surprise, "The competition starts tomorrow, and it's not finished? That won't do."

Backed into a corner, Vanessa lashed out in anger: "Eliza! What are you up to? Constantly asking about my work, are you still trying to plagiarize me?!"