Looking down from the window, Wu Tiansheng watched the two people's brisk backs and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He picked up the phone tremblingly and called Zhao Kangmei.
"Mr. Zhao, the police came to see me just now and asked about the blood painting." Wu Tiansheng's voice was full of worry, "How come they suspected me so quickly?"
"What?" Zhao Kangmei was also incredulous. "Didn't you say that it was copied completely according to the original painting, without any personal style?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's nothing of my personal touch in it. Could it be fingerprints, or maybe it was captured on camera when I delivered the painting?"
"My people can't be tracked by the police. But you, didn't you say you painted it with gloves on?"
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