Chapter 178 The Nameless Corpse (3)
"Damn it!" the fisherman cursed again, rubbing his rough hands repeatedly on his trousers, as if he could only repeat these two phrases over and over: "So unlucky."
"You're the one trying to extort us! I haven't even said anything bad about it yet!" Rennagi's face flushed with anger.
The fisherman spat, "What are you pretending for if you don't have money?"
After saying that, he didn't ask them for the money anymore. He snatched the banknotes from Rennagi's hand, went to the back of the house with his head down, and left the rest of them there.
Forgotten along with them was the frail young man huddled on the ground.
Rennagi glanced at him for a moment, then, feeling a sense of shared misfortune, reached out and helped him up: "What's your relationship with him? Were you also extorted by him?"
The thin young man said in a low voice, "He is my father."
Rennagi immediately let go of her hand.
The young man, oblivious to the situation, hugged the child in his arms and said, "This is my child."
Xiao Jiang couldn't understand, so she asked Shu Ningmiao what he had said.
Shu Ningmiao translated for her, and Xiao Jiang clicked her tongue: "He's a grandfather now, and he's still so immoral."
“I… wanted to borrow some money from my dad to pay for his medical treatment. There are doctors elsewhere who can treat him, but he is unwilling to pay for the child’s treatment.”
The young man held his forehead, looking extremely confused and pained: "He said there was no need to save him, that saving him would be useless, but how could he be so heartless, not even willing to take a gamble!"
To some extent, the fishermen's words, though cruel, were not wrong. Even Pinheis had no effective cure for Manla disease, let alone Pingyi.
Seeing the young man's miserable state, Rennagi couldn't help but help him up.
The young man waved his hand, indicating that they didn't need his help: "Thank you, I'm going back now. We live in the city, and it will be difficult to get back if we stay any longer."
His gaze swept hesitantly over Shu Ningmiao and the others, "...You guys should hurry up and get into the city, otherwise there will be pollutants outside."
After all that trouble, the old fisherman's children and grandchildren all live in the city, while he himself lives alone in this house by the sea, which shows that his family relationships are not harmonious.
Loud thumping and clanging noises came from inside the house; the fishermen were working loudly, clearly venting their frustration.
Shu Ningmiao glanced back, and was about to leave when her peripheral vision inadvertently swept over the corner of the porch, causing her to stop in her tracks.
Xiao Jiang, who was walking ahead, noticed that neither she nor Shu Changyan had followed, and stopped in confusion.
Shu Ningmiao turned around and walked back to the fishermen inside the house, saying, "I can give you money."
The sounds of banging and smashing inside the house stopped abruptly.
The old fisherman was stunned, and instead showed a suspicious look, looking her up and down as if assessing a trap.
Shu Ningmiao's gaze fell on the corner of the porch, where some miscellaneous items were piled up casually. A dusty picture frame wrapped in a waterproof cloth leaned against the wall, becoming one with it. Through the semi-transparent waterproof cloth, one could see that the picture frame contained a black and white sketch.
“Sell this painting to me.” Shu Ningmiao pointed to the trash-like frame in the corner: “I can do it for the price you just quoted.”
The fisherman looked in the direction she was pointing, then suddenly stood up as if his tail had been stepped on, pacing irritably: "This one won't do."
"Come here," he called to Shu Ningmiao, beckoning her into the house. "I have plenty of this kind of junk, you can pick whatever else you like."
Shu Ningmiao remained unmoved and insisted, "I only want this one."
"Then get out!" The old fisherman became even more agitated, pointing to the door and telling her to get out.
Rennagi quietly moved closer to her, watching her stare intently at the portrait, and whispered, "Is there anything special about this portrait?"
"It looks kind of familiar."
Shu Ningmiao snapped out of her daze, took a deep breath, and said patiently, "It's okay if you don't want to sell, just let me take a look."
The fisherman stared at her as if she were a fool, his chest heaving, but he couldn't resist the lure of money. He went over, pulled the picture frame out of the clutter, and roughly tore open the tarpaulin.
The drawing paper inside is yellowed, and the charcoal pencil roughly depicts the half-length portrait of a young man. His eyebrows and eyes are soft and youthful, his hair is left blank, and he has a smile on his face. It is a rather kind baby face.
Shu Ningmiao paused in her breath.
Her fleeting feeling was right—the person in the portrait was Lanxi!
She immediately looked up, her gaze sharp as an arrow: "Where did this painting come from?"
The fisherman clutched the money, speaking in a gruff voice as if he were saying something utterly ordinary: "I drew it."
"What?" Before Shu Ningmiao could react, Lian Naqi showed a look of utter shock.
He assumed the fisherman had picked up the painting from nearby, but he never expected to hear him say that he painted it himself.
Looking at his hands, weathered by time, he doesn't seem like the skillful master capable of creating such paintings.
Even if he doesn't understand art, he can tell that the painting has refined lines and is of a high standard.
After receiving the money from her, the fisherman's attitude softened somewhat, and he even let her into the house to look at the paintings, saying, "I have plenty of these kinds of paintings. I'll sell you the others for a thousand each, except for this one."
Shu Ningmiao and Shu Changyan exchanged a glance and followed him inside. The fisherman dragged out a large stack of drawing paper from a dusty corner. The paper was piled up like waste paper and contained black and white figures roughly sketched with charcoal pencils.
Shu Ningmiao flipped through a few pages, took a deep breath, looked at Shu Changyan, her brows trembling almost uncontrollably: "These are original artworks from 'Superheroes'."
The one she randomly flipped to was a classic composition of the protagonist taking flight in "Superheroes," and as she flipped further down, every picture featured a familiar character.
Shu Changyan's previous investigation revealed that the author of "Superheroes" had not been in contact with the studio for a long time, and the clues ended in Pingyi.
The clue she was looking for appeared before her unexpectedly, piled up here like garbage, and casually picked up by a fisherman.
The unassuming, stubborn old man in front of me is the original artist for "Superheroes," and he knows about the past of Wei Sheng Qian Heng, Edwina, and Lan Xi.
He painted a portrait of Lanxi, and may even have met Lanxi in person!
This enormous surprise fell from the sky and was delivered right to her. Countless questions churned in Shu Ningmiao's throat, and she couldn't speak for a moment.
Shu Changyan ran his fingertips across the rough drawing paper, confirming that the charcoal marks were not fake, and quoted a price: "Two thousand, can you draw one for us right now?"
The fisherman's eyes widened: "You don't believe I drew this?"
He bent down and picked up half a charcoal stick from the extinguished stove, pulled out drawing paper from under the bed, and began to paint in front of them.
At first, Rennagi and Xiaojiang were filled with anger, but they also surrounded him. People are always unconsciously more tolerant and curious about talented people. When they saw the stacks of drawings, their anger was replaced by curiosity.
In the simple room, only the sound of charcoal sticks scratching on rough paper could be heard. Those rough hands were now incredibly nimble, sweeping horizontally and drawing fine lines with sharp points, completely unlike the rude old man from before.
Xiao Jiang stared in disbelief, then quietly tugged at Lian Nagi beside her, whispering, "Doesn't he use any other tools? He just draws like this..."
The fisherman didn't even look up, and said in a low voice, "I don't know how to use those things, I only know how to use this."
There wasn't even an eraser to wipe it off. In just a moment, in one go, Shu Ningmiao's figure was already leaping off the paper, capturing even the inquisitive and sharp look in her eyes perfectly.
"Clatter".
The fisherman threw the charcoal into the stove and reverted to his rude old man form, saying to the pile of drawing paper beside him, "Take all this junk, a thousand a sheet."
"You really haven't gone anywhere to learn?" Rennagi stared in disbelief, blurting out, "You draw so well, why are you still here, why... why..."
He was too embarrassed to say what he was going to say next.
This painting would be worth less than a thousand dollars for a Pinheismann piece, and with the added fame of the original artwork from "Superheroes," it's hard to imagine what kind of astronomical price it could fetch at auction.
He spoke harshly, as if someone had touched a sore spot: "Painting can't put food on the table."
The group fell silent for a moment. Shu Ningmiao realized something was off about his words and broke the silence: "Didn't you receive your royalties?"
After investigating the original author of "Superheroes," Shu Ningmiao believed that even if the author lived in Pingyi, he should be living a comfortable life there with the huge copyright income.
She even speculated at one point that the author of "Superheroes" was actually Lanxi himself.
Now, all her guesses have been completely overturned.
"Did you really draw this... a superhero?" Rennagi stepped forward, picked up the stack of original drawings, and said in a low but clear voice, "I saw it when I was a kid. It was really, really well drawn."
The fisherman turned his head, the wrinkles on his face appearing even deeper in the dim light: "They said no one looked at it, so they sent the painting back without giving me a single penny."
Shu Ningmiao immediately chimed in, "I can help you hire a lawyer to recover the income you've been entitled to over the years."
"Then why did you help me?" The fisherman picked up a dirty rag and vigorously wiped his hands. He turned around, his eyes full of mockery and distrust: "Aren't you also Pinnesians? Why should I trust you?"
"Because I want to ask you about something." Shu Ningmiao met his suspicious gaze, looked at the portrait of Lan Xi at the foot of the porch, and stated her purpose directly: "Why did you paint him?"
“He…” The fisherman stared at the portrait, gradually becoming lost in thought, and did not answer immediately.
Shu Ningmiao took a step forward, pressing closely: "Have you seen him in person?"
"I've met him." The fisherman was pulled back to reality by her voice. His tone was somewhat dissatisfied, but he still gave her an affirmative answer: "He's the one who taught me to draw, so I painted his portrait as a memento. Is there a problem with that?"
The answer appeared clearly and directly before her, but Shu Ningmiao's heart gradually sank.
She cared about the fishermen's answer that they had "seen" him, but she cared even more about the unchanging face in the portrait.
The fisherman in front of me is no longer young; his hair is gray and his face is covered with wrinkles. He must be at least fifty or sixty years old.
However, three hundred years have passed, and Lanxi's face in the portrait has not changed at all. It is no different from the appearance in the photos she has seen. It is still a young and lively baby face.
Lanxi is alive and has never grown old.
So what exactly has he been doing all these years, and how has he managed to survive?
A chill slowly crept up her spine and spread to her limbs and bones.
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