Chapter 71: The Exhibition Begins

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Saturday, September 16. The weather was cloudy, turning clear.

Longbin Exhibition City, East Road District, Xinzhou City.

Within the newly constructed exhibition center—sprawling on a scale comparable to a sports stadium—a grand exhibition of religious and cultural arts was being held over these two days.

This exhibition focused exclusively on religions and folk cultures originating in Asia, with no place for belief systems from Europe, America, or other major regions.

It was jointly organized by religious associations from the mainland, Hong Kong and Taiwan, Thailand, Japan, India, Nepal, the Philippines, and other countries.

Since the event was being hosted in China, a total of fifteen publicly listed corporate groups from the southwestern provinces sponsored it as local partners.

Major museums, Buddhist temples, Taoist associations, and folk cultural organizations from all participating countries had contributed more than four thousand rare artifacts for display.

The dome-shaped exhibition city was divided into multiple halls according to religion.

There were halls for Mahayana Buddhism, Theravada Buddhism, Tibetan Buddhism, Shinto, and Taoism; halls jointly for Chinese folk mythology and Confucianism; as well as one for Brahmanism…

Over two hundred clergy and research scholars from various cultural and religious backgrounds attended.

More than six hundred staff from various departments of the exhibition participated, including guides, security personnel, fire safety workers, technical staff, order maintainers, receptionists, professional photographers, and logistics workers, among others.

The aim of this art exhibition was to promote the essence of Asia’s major religious cultures, to foster the most correct understanding of faith, and to serve as a valuable opportunity for cultural exchange.

But though it was only a little past nine in the morning, the area outside the exhibition city was already bustling.

There were many entrances and exits of all sizes, and the parking lots around the building—bordered by lush lawns—were filled with vehicles.

Because the exhibition ran for such a short time and no matter how ample the venue, it could not accommodate unlimited visitors, tickets had long since sold out in limited pre-sale.

Aside from staff, who had the greatest freedom of movement, visitors could only explore within designated areas under the guidance of order maintainers.

Qi Yan had been dragged here after a barrage of frantic calls from his father a little after eight, without even time for breakfast.

His father was impeccably dressed for the occasion today, with his work badge and professional camera equipment all in place.

“How do you like it? Pretty interesting, don’t you think?”

“What’s so interesting… My colleagues really wanted to come, but I just wanted to sleep in and enjoy my weekend.”

Qi Guoheng shook his head at his son’s lackadaisical manner. “Young people these days are too restless. You’re not interested in such a meaningful, profound exhibition, but you get all excited about those odd anime conventions…”

Qi Yan muttered, “Heh… Didn’t you also get invited to an anime convention before?”

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“That was for the money!”

As a photographer, Qi Guoheng brought Qi Yan straight in through the staff entrance.

Of course, flammable or explosive items like lighters still had to be handed over at the front desk for safekeeping.

“Go take a look around on your own later—I have to work,” his father said.

Qi Yan nodded lazily. “Got it… So, when do you finish work?”

“I’ll be busy until the exhibition closes tonight—after ten.”

“What?!” Qi Yan was even more dismayed.

“What do you mean ‘what’? There’s a restaurant inside. If you’re hungry, buy something to eat yourself. And if you dare sneak out early, I’ll deal with you.” With that, Qi Guoheng left him in the lobby and walked off, turning back only to add something that nearly made Qi Yan cough up blood, “Make sure you pay attention, listen to the guides’ explanations, enrich your spirit, and best of all—write a reflection afterward.”

A reflection?

Qi Yan’s eyes widened. “Dad, do you think I’m some middle school student going on a field trip? A reflection? Are you serious?”

But his father ignored him and walked away, shaking his head.

Qi Yan stood there, exasperated, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, muttering to himself as he wandered off.

From the entrance he’d come in, the first hall he entered was the Theravada Buddhist section.

The hall was impressively spacious, reminiscent of a science museum.

Spotlights illuminated a dazzling array of display cases, large and small.

Of all the exhibition areas, this was the one Qi Yan was most familiar with—the Thai Theravada Buddhism hall, filled with artifacts mostly from Thailand and India.

Buddha statues, paintings, sculptures, and of course… many amulets.

In the third hall, there was a long glass case along all four walls, displaying a wide variety of amulets.

Just in that one room, there must have been three or four hundred amulets!

Those selected for display here were, of course, not the commercial or ordinary temple amulets found in the market.

Without exception, these were all rare pieces crafted by revered monks from different periods of the Thai Buddhist calendar.

Their colors, types, forms, sizes, and craftsmanship were all distinct.

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There were powder amulets, clay amulets, metal amulets…

But what surprised Qi Yan was that there were even some rather infamous yin-amulets on display.

Yan Tong, Nine-Tailed Fox, Khun Paen, and many others whose names he didn’t know—even a few rather eye-catching items… clay sculptures of male genitalia!

At that moment, a guide’s voice drifted to his ears: “What you see before you are Thai amulets—protective charms with deep cultural significance…”

“The original purpose of the amulet was to be worn around the neck for the protection of warriors engaged in holy wars. The Thai people believe that the Buddha blesses those who sacrifice themselves for others.”

“In recent years, many of you may have heard about Thai amulets through various sources. But I want to emphasize here that… in Thailand itself, there is actually no distinction between ‘positive amulets’ and ‘yin amulets’.”

“The different forms and rituals are simply variations in what or how one worships. The categories of ‘positive’ and ‘yin’ amulets are inventions of commercial sellers. Whether one prays to gods and Buddhas for peace, or forms karmic bonds with spirits, the underlying aim is the same—to guide people toward goodness.”

Qi Yan was enlightened—so the distinctions between positive and yin amulets only existed domestically? In Thailand itself, they made no such divisions…

Of course, there were still differences in how one worshipped gods versus spirits, but ultimately, all were simply called amulets.

It wasn’t exactly wrong for people here to make that distinction, but yin amulets weren’t as terrifying as depicted online… at least, setting aside Qi Yan’s own amulet! Ordinary yin amulets were not some forbidden evil.

He was unconsciously drawn in by the atmosphere and the guide’s explanation, listening intently from the sidelines.

“Qi Yan?” Just as he was finally engrossed, a very familiar voice called him from behind.

He turned—and sure enough, it was a face he recognized instantly, despite the changes brought by the years.

A short-haired woman in a white blouse and black trousers, an orange work badge on her chest, a tablet in hand.

Their eyes met, and both could see a mix of complex emotions in each other’s gaze—some surprise, some astonishment.

Chen Huiting… Qi Yan’s girlfriend from his university days, and the most serious relationship he’d ever had.

She’d worn her hair long in college; now it was cropped short, her makeup professional and understated, giving her a mature, competent air.

“You… you… uh?” Qi Yan was at a loss for words, still not quite believing it—she was no ordinary acquaintance.

Chen Huiting stepped closer. They hadn’t seen each other in at least two years, and she smiled with genuine surprise. “It really is you, isn’t it?”