Not a Bad Story, Don't Tell It Next Time

Inside Qian Qiangyu's villa, Wei Wenqiang and Li Yidao sat back down on the sofa.

Qian Qiangyu, on the other hand, got up and went to a nearby liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle of red wine and a glass. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat back down.

"In fact, neither my father nor I knew what that inkstone, you mentioned, really is."

"But..." At this point, Qian Qiangyu's eyes showed a hint of fearful expression.

"In truth, if you were to ask my father about it, he probably knows even less than I do."

The tone of the story took a turn, and Qian Qiangyu forced a bitter smile.

"Five years ago, the reason we bought the house was the same as Mr. Wei's—because of the collectibles in the room."

"However, back then, the original homeowner was selling because they were planning to go abroad."

"My father also had a great fondness for these things, which is why he decided to purchase the house."