After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 63.2

Fortunately, the air conditioning inside the venue was cranked up high. The centerpiece was a grand exhibition hall, its roof partially open to allow ample natural light to pour in, casting the finest display conditions over the exquisite porcelain exhibits.

The interior of the hall was adorned in muted, elegant tones, with large historical paintings of porcelain hanging on the walls, creating an atmosphere of serene sophistication. The display platforms showcased precious porcelain pieces from the Inner City and various districts, their delicate luster seeming to whisper tales of antiquity.

Unexpectedly, Master Zhao did not arrive at the scheduled time instead, he appeared early.

Master Zhao was nearing sixty this year. Dressed in a black Tang suit subtly embroidered with pine and bamboo motifs, he exuded an air of distinguished elegance. His critical gaze swept over the porcelain works displayed on either side as his assistant explained beside him,

“These porcelain pieces were all crafted by newcomers shortlisted for this year’s Hua Guo Hui Rising Star Award. Master Zhao, we’d appreciate your comments.”

A swarm of reporters surged forward, eyes brimming with anticipation for his critique. Master Zhao’s eyes lingered on each porcelain piece in the venue before he finally shook his head with visible disdain.

“Nothing worth commenting on. All utterly uninspired works.”

Song Shizhou wiped sweat from her brow.

He really is as sharp-tongued as they say…

The reporters scribbled furiously, already drafting headlines about the porcelain master lambasting newcomers’ works as soulless and shallow. The stark contrast between the traditional master’s rigor and the young designers’ superficiality would make for perfect clickbait praising veteran artists while criticizing novices.

Master Zhao’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Which media outlet are you from?”

“I said ‘uninspired.’ Did I mention ‘soulless’ or ‘shallow’?”

“After nearly fifty years studying porcelain, I still wouldn’t dare claim my works have soul or depth. How dare you burden these young designers with such grandiose labels? Is that appropriate?”

The reporter broke into a cold sweat.

The assistant smoothly deflected the tension.

“Friends from the press, let’s dedicate more time to the emerging designers on stage.”

Thanks to this intervention, the reporter fled as if granted a second lease on life.

Master Zhao casually approached the exhibition platform.

The first work before him was Song Shizhou’s porcelain series themed around the four seasons.

His critical gaze lingered.

“Rather conventional theme, but the coloring shows boldness. Did you fire this porcelain yourself?”

Song Shizhou shook her head. “The porcelain was fired by specialized masters. I completed the painted designs independently.”

He gave a knowing nod and offered brief feedback:

“Fundamentals matter most.”

With this terse comment, Master Zhao turned to leave.

Song Shizhou quickly stopped him.

“Teacher, please wait.”

“Regarding the porcelain… I owe you an apology.”

Master Zhao paused, seemingly struggling to recall who she was or what incident she referred to.

“Did you break the porcelain?”

Song Shizhou hesitated, then shook her head.

Master Zhao chuckled.

“Exactly. If it wasn’t you, why apologize?”

“Claiming responsibility for things you didn’t do… Are you a saint or a bodhisattva?”

“Nothing in this world is perfect except the dead.”

His eyes rested on Song Shizhou.

“You seem very much alive to me.”

“Why be so hard on yourself? Your mother and I were friends. I know something of your family situation. Besides, didn’t I gift that porcelain to you? What’s there to apologize for?”

His words left Song Shizhou momentarily speechless.

“You’d do better studying porcelain than keeping company with madmen.”

Little Zheng had scheduled Song Shizhou’s meeting with Master Zhao from 4 to 5 PM. But the master, never one for convention, arrived in the morning instead leaving Song Shizhou’s entire afternoon unexpectedly free.

Master Zhao’s words lingered in her mind for a long time, refusing to fade away.

She never considered herself a saint, nor did she aspire to be one.

Perhaps worldly matters were simply this perplexing people’s thoughts differed. Since she couldn’t comprehend it, she might as well follow Master Zhao’s advice and focus on studying porcelain.

She browsed through other designers’ works. The theme of this year’s Floral Exhibition was “Chasing Clouds and the Moon,” so most exhibited pieces incorporated cloud and moon elements in their coloring and carvings.

The predominant hue of the porcelain was moon-white, resembling the bright moon in the night sky fresh and elegant. Each piece seemed gently bathed in moonlight, shimmering with a soft glow. Against this moon-white backdrop, intricate patterns of drifting clouds and moon shadows were meticulously painted. The cloud motifs flowed gracefully while the moon shadows appeared faintly visible, creating a poetic and picturesque scene that enchanted viewers.

The porcelain came in various forms plates, bowls, teapots, cups each carefully designed and crafted. Their lines were smooth, proportions harmonious, blending classical charm with modern simplicity. The exquisite detailing particularly showcased the artisans’ superb skills and profound expertise.

All pieces were made from premium kaolin clay, meticulously screened and refined to ensure fine, durable texture. Using traditional wood-fired kiln techniques, the firing process strictly controlled temperature and timing to achieve jade-like luster and texture.

Perhaps humans would always be moved by beauty. These man-made porcelain masterpieces embodied the craftsmen’s dedication. Just standing before them, Song Shizhou felt waves of cleansing emotion wash over her heart.

Someone drifted up behind her unnoticed. Sun Mengchen said,

“Hey, Shi Zhou, have you heard? About 800 meters up the mountain from the main venue, there’s a temple halfway up the slope.”

Song Shizhou paused.

“A temple?”

Sun Mengchen looked mysterious.

“They say whatever you pray for there comes true. Since you’re free this afternoon, come with me!”

Little Sun had never been interested in porcelain. Had Su Ziqing still been in the country, she would have skipped this Floral Exhibition long ago. But with Su Ziqing abroad and no partner-in-crime, she could only wander bored around the venue, itching with restlessness.

“Sun-jie, I’ve never seen you particularly interested in anything before. What are you praying for romance?”

Sun Mengchen clicked her tongue.

“In this life, who doesn’t have something they desperately want?”

Perhaps to match the theme, this year’s exhibition was held at the foot of Dongheng Mountain in the northern suburbs. Though not high in elevation, Dongheng’s mid-slopes were perpetually wreathed in mist due to the Inner City’s unique climate, their solitary clouds drifting from peaks created breathtaking scenery that attracted many nature enthusiasts.

The temple Sun mentioned, called Treasure Box Temple, sat precisely at this most scenic mid-slope.

Song Shizhou initially refused but eventually yielded to Sun Mengchen’s persistent wheedling and ascended the mountain.

The path to Treasure Box Temple was rugged, but the low altitude made the hour-long hike manageable. Finally, they reached the legendary temple where all prayers were answered.

Little Sun lit incense before a solemn-faced deity on the tall altar.

Unfortunately, due to the passage of time, the golden paint on the deity statue had begun to peel,

Even the tightly closed eyes of the statue showed faint cracks.

Sun Mengchen knelt on the prayer cushion with a devout expression, remaining there for a long while before finally rising.

Song Shizhou didn’t believe in gods or spirits at all, yet she herself was someone who had been reborn. Perhaps there really was some kind of mysterious force in this world, waiting at an unknown moment, in an unknown place, for you to reach out and touch it.

On the way up the mountain path, a light rain had begun to fall, dampening a strand of Sun Mengchen’s black hair. She seemed about to share the wish she had just made with Shi Zhou, but a temple staff member interrupted her,

“Miss, since you’ve already made your wish in your heart, it’s better to keep it devout. Speaking it aloud will make it lose its power.”

A cool, detached voice suddenly cut in,

“Fate plays tricks on people. What in this world can be determined by devotion alone? So what does it matter if it’s spoken or not?”

Song Shizhou instinctively turned to look.

On such a warm and beautiful spring day, most people had shed their dark winter attire in favor of lighter spring clothing. Yet that person, just as she had been months ago, still wore a deep brown suit. The dark patterns on the hem of her jacket seemed faded, and she hadn’t even switched to a lighter fabric.

As if she had remained trapped in winter.

The temple staff member, interrupted in such a tone, said nothing in response.

The worshippers in the temple were momentarily stunned by these words, but Song Fengyu paid no mind. She stood before the deity statue, lit a stick of incense on her own, then turned around.

“Shizhou, long time no see.”

The atmosphere grew tense for a moment. Sun Mengchen’s gaze flickered between the two of them.

She had heard about the recent discord in the Song family but wasn’t sure about their current relationship. Moreover, Song Fengyu’s sudden appearance was undeniably strange. Sun Mengchen was sharp-witted, she greeted Song Fengyu, then said to Song Shizhou,

“Shizhou, I think I’ve twisted my ankle. Maybe we should head back down the mountain. I’ll rest at the hotel.”

Feng Yu said calmly,

“Since Miss Sun is injured, why not rest nearby? I recall there are a few guest rooms in the temple’s backyard. Miss Sun can rest there for now.”

Sun Mengchen waved her hand.

“No need, no need. I’d rather go back down.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a clap of thunder suddenly roared outside the temple.

Raindrops splashed like crystal beads on the stone path in front of Baoxia Temple. Under the torrential downpour, Song Fengyu glanced back, a faint, knowing smile on her lips.

Song Shizhou chuckled lightly.

“Sister Yu, what a coincidence. You came to offer incense too?”

She still called her “Sister Yu.”

The familiar address made Feng Yu’s eyes flicker. Her brows furrowed slightly before quickly smoothing back into composure.

“Yes.”

She paused.

“And no.”

“This temple is a famous historical and cultural relic in the North District. But recently, the North District underwent urban redevelopment, and this land was zoned for residential use. The temple is set to be demolished along with it.”

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