Chapter 259: Artistic Genius Qin Yun

"This works?"

Qin Yun watched as Su Huan quickly brought the characters in the image to life, feeling utterly astonished.

He remembered that last year AI was still just a large language model—only a year passed, and now there are videos? Doesn't this mean a huge number of mid-to-low-end video editors will be put out of work?

"Yeah, short dramas and animated comics are done this way. AI evolves almost every month now—it's changed too much."

Looking at the characters on the screen, Qin Yun suddenly had an idea.

"What if I turn my livestream content into an animated comic? Any potential?"

Su Huan paused, then nodded: "Definitely has potential, but as long as you're there in person, nothing beats the thrill of the real you."

Qin Yun smiled: "Not necessarily. Animation can better express cinematic angles. I'll design the characters, let Lin Nan and the others give it a try, then launch a dedicated account under the company's name on Douyin just to post and see."

Su Huan shrugged: "Fine, you decide. It'll be quick to produce anyway. But character design? You're going to use AI?"

Qin Yun shook his head: "I'll draw them myself."

"Draw them yourself?" Su Huan knew Qin Yun was excellent at carving, so him being able to draw wasn't surprising—but he'd never actually seen Qin Yun pick up a brush before.

"Get me paper and a pen. I'll draw you one right now, so you can see how good I am."

Su Huan quickly fetched paper and pen. Qin Yun spread them on the table, picked up the brush, and began—his right hand moved like a printer, without a single hesitation. Less than two minutes later, a cute, exquisitely detailed cartoon "Su Huan" appeared on the paper.

Looking at the chubby "Su Huan" on the paper, Su Huan burst out laughing: "Naughty, you drew me so fat. But you're really good—you instantly captured my essence. Anyone who knows me will recognize it's me at a glance."

Qin Yun hadn't thought that far—he saw this drawing skill as instinctive, effortlessly identifying features, just basic stuff.

"I'll present it in comic form, then have Lin Nan and the others turn it into an animated comic. That should be pretty interesting." Qin Yun grew more excited as he spoke, "I could even turn this into a series and get it published by a publisher."

Seeing how excited he was, Su Huan supported him: "So where are you starting? Fanzi Cliff rock climbing?"

Qin Yun thought for a moment, then shook his head: "Start from Beijing. I need to redesign the details."

Over the next few days, aside from the house matters, Qin Yun threw himself entirely into comic setting. Since it was a comic, he couldn't replicate everything one-to-one—it had to undergo artistic refinement.

As the setting progressed, his original ideas quickly became unrecognizable, transforming into tens of thousands of words of text for an entirely new story character.

Qin Yun always worked this way: either don't do it, or do it as well as possible.

Thus, time passed slowly in the calm of creation.

"Honey, where should I put these two erhus?"

"I ordered a music stand—it'll arrive in a couple of days. Just put them anywhere for now."

"Oh, what about the bamboo flute?"

"My stand is multifunctional—it can hold the bamboo flute too."

As he spoke, Su Huan walked out of the room holding the bamboo flute, smiling: "Master Qin, play us a tune."

Qin Yun was assembling something; hearing this, he chuckled: "What do you want to hear?"

Su Huan pulled out her phone and switched to recording mode: "Just play something cheerful."

Qin Yun took the bamboo flute, stepped onto the spacious balcony, and, inspired by the view outside, said: "I'll play 'Swords and Swords Like a Dream' by Zhou Huajian."

Su Huan dragged over a chair, knelt on it, and prepared to listen.

Qin Yun placed the bamboo flute to his lips, lightly traced his fingers over the finger holes, focused for a moment, and a clear, mournful tone drifted out, spreading with the summer breeze.

The bright, undulating flute melody made Su Huan feel as if she were galloping across the martial world, amid flashing blades—filled with heroic passion, yet also the melancholy of life's fleeting illusions.

The summer wind carried the flute's sound beyond the balcony, drifting over the garden below, seeping through the windows of nearby buildings. The clear bamboo flute was especially captivating—pedestrians on the street, residents resting indoors, all involuntarily paused, turning toward the sound, listening in silence.

Inside, Su Huan watched the man's figure, listening to the mournful yet free-spirited flute, her eyes soft with tenderness.

As the flute melody rose, Qin Yun fully immersed himself in the clash of swords, pouring the martial world's freedom and the transience of human attachments entirely into the bamboo flute's notes.

Soon, the piece reached its end; the flute's tone slowly faded, gradually dissolving.

Qin Yun released his breath, set down the flute, and looked at Su Huan: "How was it?"

"Clap, clap, clap!"

Su Huan clapped enthusiastically: "Beautiful! Why didn't you show off these talents in college? If you'd been this multi-talented back then, your admirers would've lined up from the library to the campus gate."

Qin Yun laughed heartily: "That just proves how humble I am."

"You play the erhu, the bamboo flute, even write lyrics and compose music." Su Huan counted on her fingers, amazed: "I think you could break into the entertainment industry."

"The entertainment industry isn't that easy to break into," Qin Yun shook his head. "And that world is too chaotic, too full of temptations. Walk in as a blank sheet, walk out colored in every hue."

"But surely there are still pure people there?"

Su Huan didn't believe it.

Qin Yun couldn't help smiling: "You're too naive. That world is a dye vat—especially now. Whoever enters loses control."

"Alright." Su Huan stuck out her tongue. "I think Brother Chao and Sister Li are fine."

Qin Yun's expression turned strange: "In this world, especially for women, unless you're like that Second Princess, everyone ends up tainted. Go look into Sister Li's past—you'll see."

After interacting with Chen He, Zhao Liying, Deng Chao, Qin Yun gradually learned how dark this world truly was.

Of course, at his current level, entering this industry would be effortless.

He handed the bamboo flute back to Su Huan and continued unpacking boxes. The items he'd ordered had been arriving gradually, and he didn't need any staff—he handled everything himself.

Tasks like lifting refrigerators or carrying sofas—extremely physically demanding—were effortless for him.

The two worked all afternoon and only returned to their old neighborhood by nightfall.

Qin Yun had boundless energy, but Su Huan couldn't keep up, so she went to bed early; Qin Yun didn't bother her.

After Su Huan fell asleep, he began studying his next livestream in the living room.

For the past half-month, the system had been completely silent—no tasks appeared at all. Qin Yun had rested enough, so he planned to launch a new livestream.

But where to livestream or what challenge to take on—he had no clear idea.

There were plenty of options, but he couldn't decide.

"Should I just do a poll again, like last time?"

The thought came to him, and he felt it was worth trying. But this time, he wouldn't do the poll during a livestream—he'd set up a voting channel on Weibo, and promote it on X and Instagram—that would be enough.

Open Weibo, find the voting plugin, and Qin Yun uploaded five candidate options.

One: Sahara Desert, survival by foot traversal

Two: Svalbard Islands, Norway, survival by ice plain traversal

Three: Siberian primeval forest, survival in extreme cold

Four: African savanna, survival by savanna traversal

Five: North Slope of Mount Zhufeng, oxygen-free summit

These five options were the result of his careful deliberation.

Even for him, they were all highly challenging, prone to catastrophic failure. Among these five, oxygen-free summiting Mount Zhufeng was comparatively the simplest.

After further consideration, Qin Yun directly clicked send.

He then copied the link and posted it directly on X and Instagram; foreign netizens could enter Weibo via the link, and since voting was anonymous, no registration was required.

Afterwards, Qin Yun posted a Weibo update.

【Eighteen days have passed since the cave diving livestream on July 3rd. I've launched a vote—feel free to choose what you'd like me to do for my next livestream. Voting ends on July 31st.】

Qin Yun rarely goes live, so his Weibo updates are infrequent.

But he has many fans, so as soon as he posted, countless users received app notifications and immediately clicked in.

"Qin Ye has rested long enough."

"Hahaha, finally another livestream from Qin Ye—turns out we get to pick."

"Vote for the Sahara Desert—I want to see Qin Ye die of thirst."

"Vote for the African savanna—I want to see Qin Ye get eaten by lions."

"Haha, you guys are too much—Qin Ye's probably sweating buckets already."

Qin Yun read these comments and shivered; how come his fans weren't mindless idol worshippers like those cute boys had? Every single one of them clearly hoped he'd fail—absolute madness.