The exhibition hall at the upper floor glowed in soft golden lights, falling upon the edges of the canvases.
At the center of it all walked Zhong Sihan, his sharp but bored eyes scanning the walls like a hawk ready to tear down his opponent. Some people who recognized him murmured in hushed voices, stunned to see him at the gallery today.
"Isn't that Zhong Sihan who killed his brother? Wasn't he in prison?"
"He has been out for quite some time now. I think this is the first public appearance he has made since his release."
"I cannot believe his brother's family is also here! Don't they hate each other?"
"That seems messed up…"
Sihan paused before a landscape depicting a fog-covered mountain range. The painter's attempt at melancholy was apparent, but his eyes lingered only for a moment before he turned away.
"Technically decent," he muttered, "Just barely enough though."
