Shen Yan never thought that an antique auction would lead him to Xie Linzhou's madness.
The man smelled of rust and turpentine, and locked him in the villa with iron chains. His fingertips were dipped in the ink mixed with old blood in the inkstone, leaving paranoid marks on his eyebrows - "You are my living sacrifice, you must recognize the Lord."
He thought it was an unwarranted imprisonment, but when he was investigating an old case from the old kiln twenty years ago, he was hit by a yellowed photo that made his ears ring. The man with similar facial features to his own in the photo was actually the enemy that Xie Linzhou said "killed his father" and the father he had never met.
Xie Linzhou already knew everything. Three years of spying, chaining his body, and marking it with ink and blood were just a gamble with a crazy heart - a bet that the enemy's son would stay, a bet that this bloody feud would be entangled and heated.
The twin inkstones are cracked with old marks, and the enamel bowls hide secrets. When the truth surged in his bones and blood, Shen Yan looked at the bleeding wound on Xie Linzhou's eyebrow bone, and suddenly understood: they had long been like the pair of inkstones, bound together by obsession, and they could not be separated even if they got scars.
"Your father killed my father." Xie Linzhou bit the side of his neck, his voice was cruel and trembling, "But I still want to lock you close to me."
No one can escape unscathed from this gamble that relies on madness.
Intention: crazy criticism
