This should also be considered a special historical remnant.
Generally speaking, prisons are usually located in more remote areas.
Surveying the crowded downtown surroundings, Fu Qian seed to imagine the past glories.
It’s easy to envision a developnt where, during prosperous tis, the town expanded outward, encompassing what should have been a desolate place, allowing criminals to successfully buy houses within the inner circle.
Unfortunately, as the overall decline occurred, even such a place couldn’t be maintained.
And the stark contrast between its forr bustle and the silence now, combined with the special concept of a confinent place in a bustling market, truly makes it a favored spot for artists—even appearing to attract enigmatic figures.
Among the many graffiti, one piece succeeded in capturing Fu Qian’s attention.
Only in red and green, even the hues were consistent with the graffiti viewed from the breakfast shop, yet it effortlessly depicted a remarkably vivid pattern.
Vines and blood.
The unsettling red, like the decayed flesh exposed beneath peeling wall skin, interwoven not with blood vessels but with vines seemingly drawing sustenance from it.
Though only a few ters wide, the lushness of the vines seems palpable.
And not just hidden within the flesh of the wall, but extending all the way to an invisible location within the prison, forming a towering—decayed flower?
In that mont, Fu Qian seed to feel his artistic talent recognized.
The creator of this painting shared a similar philosophy with him.
Driving slowly past, feeling the artistic impact, Fu Qian did not stop, instead heading straight to the forr prison entrance.
This place retained its original essence, and the wide open gates showcased a new openness and inclusivity, or the vitality of the decayed flower.
From this vantage point, one can see more than one car parked in the yard.
Just like the rumors, this place seed to be burning with the town’s last sliver of energy.
Though for now, like the surroundings, no living person could be seen in sight.
Fu Qian still didn’t linger, imdiately turning in.
...
So where should one begin?
Successfully entering the prison, Fu Qian, with his intrinsic empathy, quickly entered the stage of choosing a cell.
And it was at this point that the drawbacks of being artistic beca evident.
Though still a participant in the market economy, and even with galleries open to the public, such as within this remodeled building, there were still many signs visible at a glance.
Unfortunately, perhaps to emphasize uniqueness, each establishnt refrained from using mundane words associated with money, ultimately leading to a unified language that didn’t speak human words, making it impossible to discern what they actually did.
But this was not a major issue, casually searching for Ms. Rachel who might have skipped work and co here was rely a side task.
The core reason for visiting here was the possible whereabouts of two young people.
Let think... What kind of style might a normal fourteen-year-old be interested in?
For a mont, Fu Qian continued to imrse himself, slowly driving past, evaluating each place’s attraction to young people.
Of course, the adjective "normal" is very important here.
While undoubtedly having been fourteen years old, being an honest person, Fu Qian wasn’t about to consider himself as a reference.
Generally, at this stage, it’s hard to resist the allure of dark and edgy thes, but the core should still revolve around the the of rebellion...
And this process didn’t last long, soon Fu Qian’s gaze settled on a particular spot, and he parked the car.
...
It didn’t even have a sign, but careful renovations and repainting of the exterior walls could be seen.
Even the chosen color was refreshingly brighter compared to others, a prominent shade of green, with no other patterns.
Coupled with its relatively modest height, yet distinct as a stand-alone building like a guard tower, making it stand out prominently.
As ntioned earlier, teenagers don’t necessarily like gloomy things, rebellion is key.
A building like this, if placed elsewhere, they might not even glance at it, but precisely because of the surroundings filled with demons and monsters, it tugs at the heartstrings.
"Haha... Is this also such a childish choice..."
Yet just as Fu Qian locked onto his target and stepped forward a few steps, a deep voice tinged with disdain unexpectedly rang out from one side.
Oh?
Though strictly speaking, it was more of a self-directed soliloquy, it was undoubtedly a comntary on him.
And true to the reputation of an insightful artist, he instantly understood the spirit his action expressed.
While rely imrsing himself as a young person, receiving "childish" evaluation, Fu Qian felt no negative emotions.
This had the feeling of triggering character dialogue, without needing to give motivation himself.
As a result, the previous action seed to not only lock onto a target but achieve both goals.
Is this the power of empathy?
With deep sighs, Fu Qian also caught sight of the face of the one who spoke.
Indeed, quite artistic.
Thin and long, sallow complexion, sparse hair, extending from behind a half-open door.
Though the appearance was one thing, the most intriguing was the position of the head.
Everything below the neck hidden behind the door, but the height was truly odd.
The peculiar posture and proactive speech could well be understood as a subtle ans of solicitation.
But the building here had a high ceiling, hard to imagine a normal person standing and tilting their head to such a position.
"Just as childish as you stopping to listen to ."
And certainly not a fake head; seeing Fu Qian truly turn to look, that face continued speaking, even revealing a mocking smile with intensified sarcasm.
As for the intended ssage, it was easy to comprehend—you not only possess the childish rebelliousness of youth but are equally susceptible to influence.
"What is the advantage of being not childish?"
Feeling the unique communication technique, Fu Qian’s steps did not falter, already reaching the door.
...
"Naturally, it allows you to open your eyes and encounter sothing truly interesting."
The person behind the door seed even prepared, ready for a triple mockery should Fu Qian pause again in response to his words.
Yet it’s the sa old saying, the clash of montum is very subtle.
Anke’s tranquil tone and pace evidently exerted significant pressure on him, with a sense of the counterpart walking outside the rhythm.
Despite this, he persistently chose to respond and did not retract his head.
"Like this?"
Fu Qian still held no emotion, casually pushing the door.
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