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"Yes, all the men here have this disease, so I've never dared to marry in my life, for fear of harming the children," Zhoo Weixin said.
"Master Zhoo, did your grandfather and father do the same job as you when they were young?" Xiao Ruo asked.
"Indeed, this craft is passed down from my ancestors. However, when I was young, I found the work too exhausting; I used to switch to lighter jobs after just one or two years. It's only in recent years that I've truly taken up the art of grinding pigments again."
Hearing this, Xiao Ruo felt sure of something and said, "Master Zhoo, starting from tomorrow, you should no longer go to the pigment workshop."
At these words, Zhoo Weixin's expression changed slightly. "Madam, I know my days are numbered, but I haven't yet served you properly. I beg you to give me a chance. I promise to pass on this ancestral skill..." he coughed and wheezed.
Zhoo Weixin became anxious and started coughing again, accompanied by light gasping.