Super Righteous Player
Chapter 953 - 11 I’m Your Fan!

Chapter 953: Chapter 11 I’m Your Fan!

Annan glanced at Nigel Elliott sitting across from him, raised his index finger, and made a signal for silence toward Thirteen Fragrances, indicating he should remember to keep quiet later.

Then he placed his "Bicolor Scepter" horizontally at his feet—an area that wouldn’t be seen even when turning around.

Thirteen Fragrances caught on with a glance at Annan, nodded slightly,

Acknowledging that he got the message.

Then, he nudged the Husky beside him to wake her up quickly,

Lest Annan was in the middle of a delicate conversation, and Husky, blurry-eyed and drowsy, would suddenly blurt out "Your Majesty Annan," and throw everything into chaos.

An ordinary person indeed wouldn’t do such a thing, but Husky might.

It’s probably best to remind her a little.

Besides, it’s more polite to wake her up when strangers are around. They were essentially on a business trip with their leader, after all, and it wasn’t very polite to be dozing off without a care.

That’s what Thirteen Fragrances was thinking.

They had just boarded the subway not long ago, and Husky, with no regard for decorum, simply plopped down next to Thirteen Fragrances, closed her eyes, and began to nod off... falling asleep in a few breaths.

It’s only because the tea table between these four seats was a bit low that Husky could only curl up in her chair to sleep.

Otherwise, she’d probably perform her legendary skill of catching up on sleep during class right in front of Annan.

Though this subway wasn’t the same kind they used for commuting to and from work, the only commonality was that they both ran underground.

But the name alone made Husky feel incredibly sleepy.

As soon as she sat on the subway, she’d start feeling drowsy—just like her usual commute. Thirteen Fragrances, on the subway, liked to wear headphones to listen to music, watch videos, or read novels, gathering some intel.

Husky, on the other hand, was the type who could clutch her phone, lean against the subway’s pillar, and begin sleeping while standing.

Because, indeed, Husky needed more sleep.

It wasn’t because Husky worked harder than Thirteen Fragrances—in fact, she usually got off work earlier.

But typically, Husky would play games until past midnight, and even after getting into bed, she’d play on her phone for a while. When she slept really depended on when her group chat friends went to sleep...

"The group is still awake, is it okay for me to sleep?"

Husky would respond in such a righteous manner: "Suddenly disappearing while chatting, that’s so impolite!"

As if she were trying to outlast her friends in a test of sleep deprivation.

—Of course, later Thirteen Fragrances found out that it was all just an excuse.

Because some of Husky’s chat friends were in different time zones, and even if Husky stayed up till dawn, they wouldn’t be going to sleep...

"... Huh... Huh? What?"

Husky, nudged by a foot, made an odd noise and woke up: "What’s wrong..."

"I sometimes envy your quality of sleep..."

Thirteen Fragrances sighed and glanced towards Annan, giving Husky a meaningful look.

"What?"

Husky, now more awake, still didn’t catch what Thirteen Fragrances was muttering or understand his gaze.

She leaned in, her white long hair somewhat tousled from being scrunched up in the chair, making her resemble a fluffy white large dog, and asked with some confusion, "Why are you talking so quietly? Have you lost your voice... Are your eyes bothering you too?"

"No, I mean people without a heart or a brain really do have good sleep quality..."

Thirteen Fragrances finally gave up on trying to explain things clearly to Husky.

He reached out and grabbed Husky’s neck, turned her head toward him, placed his index finger in front of his lips, made eye contact, and nodded for confirmation.

Husky turned her head to look at Annan, and, suddenly realizing, quickly covered her mouth with her hand and nodded vigorously.

"Ah..."

Thirteen Fragrances could only sigh helplessly.

He glanced at Husky and couldn’t help but give another piece of advice, "If you’re going to sleep, remember to tie up your hair and put it in front of you, or at least try to sleep in a decent position. It’s all tousled and messy—are you not uncomfortable?"

"...I’ve been wanting to cut this hair off."

Husky muttered with a distressed face, "I thought long hair looked good when I was shaping my face, but it’s such a hassle to wash..."

...Well, that’s your own fault.

Thirteen Fragrances was about to mutter just that.

But then he thought about it, if Husky felt supported, he might really go through with cutting his hair. But after a few days, he’d regret it, "Ah, why did I cut my hair at that time?"

...How should I put it, my foolish brother turned into a cute girl is actually quite endearing.

Thirteen Fragrances sighed again.

Without even having a wife myself, I’m already feeling like a father...

And what I’m raising is a foolish daughter.

One’s destiny is truly unpredictable—who knows when the idiot son in one’s own dorm would turn into an idiot daughter...

While the two behind him were still murmuring, Annan had already stood up and walked over to Nigel.

They were in the same carriage; it was just that Nigel subconsciously sat down in the corner. That had kept a certain distance between them.

When Annan sat down next to Nigel with the stature of "The Final Work: David," he obviously gave him a start.

Seeing a man with black hair and black eyes, deep features, and a smiling, cheerful demeanor unreservedly sitting across from him, Nigel, who was reading, was taken aback for a moment.

Mainly because his sharp eyes as a famous painter were able to instantly analyze the body and many details of the person opposite him.

That body, neither a bit obese nor full of power and graceful beauty, was like a sculpture crafted by a master sculptor. And if he was considered a battle-hardened warrior, then his overly pale, not rough and dry enough skin appeared all the more discordant.

It was precisely because Nigel knew the human body well enough that he realized something was amiss.

His gaze quickly danced between his fingers, and he soon caught sight of a silver ring.

—Indeed, a Transcendent.

And moreover, a high-ranking silver-tier Transcendent...

Nigel’s heart suddenly tightened.

Hearing the deliberate lowering of voices behind him made him somewhat anxious—this was clearly meant to be a conversation they didn’t want him to hear. Such a reaction usually meant they had recognized him.

But sat on this edge seat, even without carrying a sketchpad... his identity should not have been exposed so quickly, should it?

"Hello, Mr. Nigel... I hope I’m not mistaken?"

The cheerful and smiling middle-aged man sat across from Nigel. "I am a fan of yours!"

"...Is, is that so."

Nigel’s face was a picture of embarrassment.

Clearly, he was not quite convinced—yet the situation before him seemed to leave him no choice but to believe.

"It is true."

The middle-aged man’s face became slightly more serious, "I have loved your paintings since a very long time ago.

"It was a very, very long time ago... I’m not only fond of your current paintings. I also like those from before the ’Silent Twenty Years’... those clumsy, yet determined paintings. Each one seemed to pour out the painter’s soul, with all their strength invested.

"Like a flame struggling and burning in the snowfield— I love the light that burst forth from that effort."

Hearing this unexpected statement, Nigel was a bit taken aback and looked up.

He gazed blankly at the middle-aged man.

For a moment, his eyes turned slightly red.

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