Chapter 1447 Qiao Zhihe's Extra Story (1)

The driver was not in an accident. When he climbed out of the car and saw Qiao Zhihe unscathed, his expression almost made him cry.

He was scared to death just now. If he ran a red light and killed someone, he would have no hope in this life. Fortunately, God bless him.

Regardless of Qiao Zhihe's push and refusal, he just stuffed him a large sum of money, saying that Qiao Zhihe didn't accept him and felt uneasy.

Qiao Zhihe finally accepted the money and put this matter on the back of his mind.

...

Many years later, Qiao Zhihe became a very famous painter.

He was young, had no bad habits, and kept himself clean, and had a face that could be called a god.

On top of that, he doesn't have a girlfriend yet.

Such a man is simply the dream of countless women.

His paintings can fetch high prices, but no one has ever seen him paint any portraits.

His rivals attacked him, and his admirers offered tens of millions of dollars for him to paint a portrait, but he never paid any attention.

No one ever knew that in his villa, there was a special room that only he could open.

As soon as the lights are turned on, the easels are full.

The content on these easels can be seen at a glance that they are all the same person.

Black cloak, black sickle, can't see the appearance.

Such images are the vast majority.

In a few of the portraits, there is a beautiful woman with a delicate appearance, but her hair color and eye color are a little different from those of humans, and even in a few portraits, this person also wears a pair of gorgeous black wings.

These portraits are vivid, and the expressions of the people on the portraits, even their eyes, seem to be conveyed through the drawing paper.

As long as you see these paintings, you can know that the well-known painter Qiao Zhihe is not good at figure painting, which is absolutely nonsense.

The level of these paintings even exceeds that of several of his works that have fetched sky-high prices.

Qiao Zhihe stretched out his hand and rubbed lightly on a painting.

His movements were gentle, gentle, as if he was not touching a painting at all, but the owner of the painting.

"Sister Death." Qiao Zhihe, who had grown into a mature man, called her softly.

"Eleven years, three months, and thirteen days. You said you have something to do, and you won't come for a long time. However, this time is really too long."

He looked at these paintings with gentle eyes: "I actually decided to paint because of you. I want to paint all your appearance, your appearance, and your movements. Of course, only I can do it alone. See.

"I want you to be the first person I paint, so I never paint people before I have absolute confidence, because I'm afraid that the works I draw will tarnish your image."

"Now, I have been able to draw works that satisfy me, and I want to show you my works. But..."

But, Sister Death, why don't you come back and take a look at me?

From eleven years ago, no, from earlier.

He kept thinking in his heart that when he was able to draw her perfectly, he would bring his own work to confess to her.

He is a painter, so he expresses himself in the form of a painter.

He puts all his emotions and desires into these paintings.

Just by looking at it, you can know how much affection he has poured into the people above.