Eyes that are the same as those of evil

Chapter 226 Clay Sculpture Exhibition

Two neighboring families who lived in harmony are now half dead.

With a life-or-death feud looming between them, and having lost his "sharp" wife and daughter, Liao Wenxiang's father, an invisible man hidden behind his wife and daughter, is left with only his estranged neighbors. How will he live his life?
Tan Jia was quite curious.

Two days later, while having dinner with the criminal investigation team, Xiao Chen told her about the follow-up to the speculation that Wang Yaohua's family had discovered their son's murder but pretended not to see it, and that they had used someone else to kill their son.

“The Wang family wasn’t very sad. After Liao Wenxiang’s mother killed Wang Yaohua, they said they were too ashamed to pursue the matter. Later, when they met with Liao Wenxiang’s father, they even cried and apologized. Meanwhile, Wang Yaohua’s brother was playing on his phone the whole time and didn’t even look up, let alone express any sadness or grief.”

"Judging from their reactions, your guess is very likely true. But we cannot prove it based on their behavior. The law is not a product of idealism."

Tan Jia expressed his understanding.

"The sense of honor brought to them by their son's childhood as the pride of heaven replaced their love for him. Later, when Wang Yaohua became mentally challenged, and so mentally challenged in a way that was so heartbreaking, their pain and shame replaced their pity for their son... Standing at a crossroads, between a route with few cars and a green light and a route that is stuck in traffic, it is easy to understand to choose the former."

The gossip, the stares, and the feigned sympathy of others were like needles, pricking not only Wang Yaohua himself but also his parents.

It is obviously easier to give up on others than to give up on yourself, so Wang Yaohua's parents completely abandoned him, even though this abandonment had actually begun from the moment his younger brother was born.

A few days later, Tan Jia was still thinking about finding out about Liao Wenxiang's father and the Wang family's "neighborly life" when she heard Zheng Yan say that Wang Yaohua's family had moved away.

"The pharmacy is quite profitable. They also have a house in the county town. They put the house in Wenqu Township up for sale, but moved out before anyone took it over."

Where is Liao Wenxiang's father?

"I heard she went out to do odd jobs. She'll probably remarry and go back to living an invisible life."

Tan Jia remained silent for a while, then sighed deeply.

-

In late July, the heatwave was extinguished by several torrential rains, and the weather finally cooled down a bit.

Having some free time recently, Tan Jia took her best dough sculptures, the best she had made in the past few months, to an exhibition.

It wasn't a particularly formal event, but my aunt said it was rare to find an exhibition opportunity without any barriers to entry, so she suggested that she give it a try. Maybe she could even meet an unassuming master craftsman who would be impressed by her skills and insist on taking her on as an apprentice.

But she could still understand her uncle's hesitant expression, so she just listened to what he said.

The exhibition was organized by amateur enthusiasts of traditional crafts through crowdfunding. It is said that in previous years there were only about ten works, and the visitors were limited to passersby who accidentally stumbled upon the place.

Later, tourists came specifically to buy the works as souvenirs, which started to gain some popularity. This also attracted professional craftsmen, and they actually discovered a few very good works, making those amateur enthusiasts an overnight sensation.

Then the number of exhibitors and visitors suddenly increased. Now they can afford to rent an entire venue to hold exhibitions, and the number of visitors is so large that security guards are needed to maintain order.

On her way to the exhibition hall, she was searching on her phone for the most popular works from the last exhibition. She saw that a landscape painting of tree bark had been bought for 800 yuan. The artist was a fourth-grade elementary school student.

She watched intently, while Lin Zhiyue, standing beside her, kept touching her hand and turning to look at her, more restless than an ant on a rainy day.

"What's wrong with you?" Tan Jia looked up at him.

Lin Zhiyue pursed her lips, looked into her eyes, and asked carefully, "Can I buy it? That room can be converted into an exhibition hall."

She can understand these truncated sentences.

"That room" refers to his former bedroom next door, and "it" refers to the clay sculpture she brought to the exhibition. It was a murder story she had conceived herself, unrelated to the actual crime; a corpse in the corner, three shocked eyewitnesses pointing to others, and a knife that appeared to be the murder weapon—these elements combined to create a crime scene.

With Lin Zhiyue's help in coloring and depicting expressions, the artwork looks very eye-catching.

She understood what he meant.

"That's it? You've been hesitant the whole way. Why are you like my brother, afraid that no one will appreciate my work and I'll be devastated? Do I look like someone who can't handle setbacks?"

Lin Zhiyue looked at her again, pursed her lips, and said, "I want to keep it."

"But these are my works, and I want to exhibit them. Isn't it enough that you occasionally smuggle one or two of my little dough figurines over?"

He stopped talking, sat back down, and looked at the road ahead.

Tan Jia raised an eyebrow, hooked her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Their relationship had been developing steadily for some time, and they were now quite used to kissing, exchanging breaths lip to lip. At the end of the kiss, Tan Jia pulled away, and Lin Zhiyue, with his eyes closed, subconsciously leaned forward to follow, only to have a finger press down on his lips.

He opened his eyes and met Tan Jia's smiling gaze.

"Well, actually I'm quite concerned about my image. If no one really likes my work later, you can pretend to be a discerning and wealthy person who knows its value, and make a grand entrance to buy it at a high price. How about that?"

Lin Zhiyue actually nodded.

The exhibition features many intangible cultural heritage works made by amateurs, including bark paintings, calligraphy, and grass dragons. Some follow the techniques of the older generation, while others are highly innovative.

Tan Jia's dough sculptures belong to the category of innovation.

She handed her work to the staff at the club, and together with Lin Zhiyue, they strolled around other areas and compared it with other works. They found that her "Crime Scene" was actually not bad, at least it wasn't sensational.

Looking at them again, I realized I should have brought my earlier works as well. Quite a few people at the event went out of their way to buy the ugliest dough figurines as souvenirs.

One of the Ultraman Tiga figures, with his hands on his hips and a smile, is so ugly it's almost abstract, surpassing even her Harbin sausage, watermelon spoon, and droopy-faced zombie.

She bought the clay Ultraman figurine and told Lin Zhiyue, "Take it back and put it in a separate compartment. Every time I look at it, I'll feel a little more confident."

Lin Zhiyue: "...Okay."

After she had finished browsing around, she went back to look at her own work.

There were quite a few people standing outside the exhibition area, whispering about her "Crime Scene". She pretended to be a passerby and squeezed in to listen. Most of them were discussing who the murderer was among the three people in the work.

Amateur exhibitions lack detailed descriptions of the works and expert explanations, leaving everyone to guess. When people with similar ideas meet, they exchange glances and begin discussing the details.

Tan Jia heard several versions, all of them wildly imaginative and nonsensical.

When someone asked her, she pretended to be a passerby, pondered for a few seconds, and said, "I don't think this is a split personality or a parallel universe; it's more like three murderers conspiring to deceive the audience."

The person next to him let out a hesitant, sudden realization.

Then everyone continued their discussion.

In the crowd, someone withdrew their gaze from the clay sculpture, lowered their head, and walked away against the flow of people.