Chapter 257: Self-Portrait?

Wisconsin, inside an ordinary farm.

Two middle-aged male farmers were cheerfully drinking whiskey.

"Ha, I never thought that our grandfather would die in poverty but leave us a huge fortune."

"Indeed, George McCarthy is basically our family's Van Gogh."

"From 1960 to 1985, that novel brought us about a hundred thousand dollars in copyright income."

The older male, somewhat tipsy, said, "When I was a child, I thought I could live off royalty money all my life."

"Who knew that no one would come seeking to adapt it after that."

"Ha," the younger one laughed, "I never expected that now some fool is willing to pay one million dollars just to buy the rights to that obscure novel."

The two clinked their glasses and laughed together.

"Excuse me, are you the descendants of George McCarthy?" a young man in a suit walked in, led by the hostess.

Hmm?

The two farmers turned their heads simultaneously to look at the opposite side.