CHAPTER 132: CHAPTER 132: HOLLY CROWE IS FRAMED (PART 1)

The enormous glass dome of the exhibition hall cast fragmented light patterns on the floor.

On one side, bamboo trees stood gracefully, swaying in the breeze, with their dappled shadows filtering through the carved window lattice, flickering among the crowd.

Amidst the crowd, Holly Crowe could feel an unmistakable gaze resting on her.

Lifting her eyes, she met the look of Shannon Yarrow, standing beside Master Theodore Roth.

That glance carried an indescribable complexity, part examination, part provocation.

"Teacher Holly," a junior who had exchanged pleasantries with her during sign-in reminded her softly, "Old Mr. Roth has arrived. Let’s go over and say hello."

Holly steadied herself and stepped forward.

Theodore Roth was from Cadence. In his youth, he left his hometown and ventured alone to Beldon, where he climbed the ranks from an interior designer to a pottery master and founded The Hall of Timeless Grace, becoming a revered figure among ceramists and holding a significant position.

Near sixty this year, he nonetheless radiated energy and clad in an exquisite Zhongshan suit, cut an imposing figure.

Seeing Holly, Theodore Roth beamed warmly, his enthusiasm noticeably greater than with others.

In a thick Brelond accent, he spoke, "Holly, isn’t it? Quinn had tea with me half a month ago and couldn’t stop smiling, saying he found a great apprentice in you with extraordinary pottery skills!"

Holly slightly bowed, her tone poised and respectful, "Old Mr. Roth, you overpraise me. Teacher Miles often talks about you, saying your insight in pottery is unrivaled and encourages me to learn from you."

"Haha, you’re too kind!"

Theodore Roth was clearly pleased, his gaze increasingly approving, "It’s good to stay humble and not be proud at your age! But don’t be too modest; show off your talents!"

Theodore Roth patted Shannon Yarrow’s hand, turning to nod at her, "Ah Shu, see Holly, so young yet so composed. When you work with her, learn from each other, alright?"

An unusual expression flickered across Shannon Yarrow’s face as she smiled in response, "Old Mr. Roth is right. I’ve long heard of Teacher Holly’s pottery skills and indeed should learn more."

Upon finishing, Theodore Roth introduced Shannon to Holly, "This is Miss Shannon Yarrow, an old friend from Brelond. Though her primary focus is oil painting, she has great insights into pottery. When you collaborate, exchange ideas!"

"Collaboration?" Holly felt puzzled.

Shannon stepped forward with an elegant smile, yet her eyes held no warmth, "Teacher Holly, Masters Miles and Roth have both recommended us for next month’s ’Blue Orchid Cup’ innovation art unit. I look forward to your guidance."

Blue Orchid Cup?

Holly’s heart trembled.

This was a prestigious award in the domestic arts and crafts sector, with its gold prize being a crucial reference for the annual "Craft Master" evaluation.

But the Blue Orchid Cup has always been pottery-focused; since when did it include oil painting?

She wasn’t naïve to some rules of the art world, and stories of awards manipulated for certain titles were known to her. A few years back, there were exposés of people hosting competitions just to nab awards. Was even the Blue Orchid Cup now possibly...

Holly suddenly realized that this might be laying the groundwork for Shannon, even capable of changing the Blue Orchid Cup’s rules.

A chill filled her heart, growing colder and colder.

Theodore Roth seemed to notice her doubts, laughing casually, "Art needs innovation! The fusion of oil painting and pottery holds great potential! Miss Yarrow has fresh ideas, and you young people should spark off each other to surely create good work!"

Holly remained silent, casting a glance at the faint smile hanging on Shannon Yarrow’s lips, merely nodding politely.

After the art exhibition officially began, Holly politely bid farewell to the two and focused on viewing the exhibits.

But while observing, she consistently felt subtle gazes upon her.

Some even carried a tinge of sympathy, like hooks, making her back stiffen.

Especially when Shannon Yarrow passed by, those gazes became more pronounced, faintly hearing words like "Weibo," "trending," and "pulled out quickly."

Holly assumed everyone was still discussing that mishap during the live broadcast recording the other night without much thought, though the discomfort lingered in her heart.

After the viewing concluded, everyone moved to a private banquet room on the mountain.

The exhibition was held in a scenic park in Beldon, with the banquet set in a private restaurant at the mountaintop, the room exuding an antique charm, looking out at the Beldon mountain scenery.

As Quill’s representative, Holly sat at the main table with Theodore Roth, and Shannon remained beside him, the two chatting happily.

Theodore Roth enjoyed strong liquor, particularly fiery Baijiu. The organizers catered to his preference, providing heritage White Spirit.

After a few glasses, Theodore Roth was in high spirits, his face glowing red, praising, "This liquor’s just right! Smoother than what I’ve had in Cadence!"

As he spoke, his hand naturally landed on Shannon’s shoulder, his fingers gently rubbing a couple of times.

Watching this scene, Holly involuntarily furrowed her brows.

Others around pretended not to see or smiled and toasted, with no one daring to speak up.

The redwood round table was laden with dishes, and the spicy aroma of White Spirit mingled with the scent of food filled the room.

Soon someone held their wine glass towards Old Mr. Roth, "Old Mr. Roth, cheers to you!"

"Alright, cheers." Old Mr. Roth drank glass after glass.

Full cups of White Spirit swirled with liquor flowers, and Holly frowned a little.

The pack with hangover medication was still in the driver’s car, leaving now would be awkward and inappropriate.

While hesitating, she suddenly noticed a new jar of iced wine on the table, beads of water clinging to the porcelain exterior.

But Holly recalled no such beverage on the menu.

The iced wine looked similar to White Spirit in color, yet she wasn’t sure if it contained alcohol.

Just as she was about to ask the waiter, Shannon Yarrow called out before her.

She asked something softly, and the waiter shook his head.

Then Shannon acknowledged Holly’s glance, picked up the iced drink, and poured a glass for herself.

Noticing Holly’s gaze, she smiled slightly, "I’m on my period recently, so I can’t drink alcohol. This is non-alcoholic, just juice mixed with soda. If you don’t want to drink alcohol, you can have this too."

Saying so, she moved to block another glass for Theodore Roth, a practiced motion like she’d done it countless times.

Holly eyed the iced wine, hearing the approaching toasts, reluctantly poured herself a glass.

The banquet concluded.

The night wind swirled with leaves.

Everyone bid farewell at the entrance.

The driver, shawl in hand, waited at the door, draping it over Holly upon seeing her exit.

Theodore Roth, drunk and unable to stand steady, leaned against the doorframe, cursing, "Damn kid! Where’s the car? Tell him to hurry up!"

His special car wasn’t here yet, preventing others from leaving first.

Shannon supported his arm, turning to Holly, "Teacher Holly, could Old Mr. Roth ride with you back? Seeing him like this is truly worrying."

Holly’s gaze froze for a moment.

With so many people present, why did Shannon specify her to escort him?

She was about to decline politely.

Before she could speak, the driver stepped forward to refuse, "Sorry, Miss Yarrow, President Sinclair expressly instructed to ensure madam gets home safely tonight, so please make other arrangements."

Shannon’s smile faltered momentarily, quickly resuming normalcy.

She casually glanced around at the people, a faint bitter smile stretching, "Given Mr. Sinclair’s instructions, I dare not insist."

With those words, the surrounding onlookers’ gazes on Holly became odder, now familiar with curiosity, sympathy, and even a sense of watching a drama, even more evident than before.