Mr. Li stepped forward, his eyes suddenly widened.
"Is this embroidered?"
"Of course," Mr. Song lifted his chin, a pride naturally emerging as if he had embroidered it himself.
"This is double-sided embroidery; look at the back. Each stitch, each thread, is simply divine, a national treasure, it’s just..." He glared fiercely at Jian Zhiqing.
Jian Zhiqing just smiled without saying a word.
Sorry, it’s not his, he can’t decide.
When Qin Xiangnuan returned, she found the atmosphere at home strange. She was about to take an exam and was so busy she was almost crying. Not finishing her daily problems, she had basically become a good-for-nothing who only ate and slept. She didn’t have the spare energy for other things.
As for the elderly man who appeared at the stone table, she didn’t seem too surprised; perhaps a friend of Mr. Li’s. She placed all her books in her room. She was still returning home recently to get a few extra days of review in the system. Not being very smart, she could only make do by starting early.
Touching the hair that had grown down to her neck, she couldn’t help but gaze outward.
Sometimes, hopes are plump and beautiful, but reality is desperately disappointing.
For example, she had once thought Mr. Li might spark something with her grandma, but nothing happened.
It might be because of the era. Decades later, such things often happen, but now, her grandma is a rural woman. When Grandpa Du wasn’t around, she lived with her son, a typical one-husband rural woman. It seemed difficult for her to entertain such thoughts.
So now, she no longer thought of pairing Mr. Li with her grandma. Sometimes, when she thought about it, she was overly concerned. Their backgrounds and habits were just too different; they probably couldn’t get past the initial phase.
Mr. Li would think of his grandson and come to stay for a few days, complaining when it got too noisy before going back.
Between the two, there really wasn’t the slightest spark, no, not even a sparkler.
When she came out again, several pairs of eyes were glued to her, as if they wanted to poke a few holes in her.
Fortunately, she had thick skin now, having lived two lifetimes. No matter what, she had good composure.
"Are you Qin Xiangnuan?" One of the elders stood up, sizing her up with an unfriendly gaze as if she owed him something.
"Yes, that’s me," Qin Xiangnuan was puzzled. She did not recall ever meeting someone with his appearance. What, had she done something wrong?
"Is that Qingming River Painting yours?"
"It is mine," Qin Xiangnuan now understood something. Could this be that Mr. Song who wanted to buy her Qingming River Painting with money? She once considered selling it for the money, but she was afraid that her achievement would end up as cheap as cabbage. So, she decided not to sell.
"How much will you sell it for? I’ll buy it."
Mr. Song really did have deep pockets, making it clear that she could name her price, not fearing she’d ask for the moon. It seemed that Qin Xiangnuan now trusted Jian Zhiqing’s words; you can ask for the moon if you want to. This old man could make it happen, even if you asked for a hundred thousand.
But Qin Xiangnuan just didn’t want to sell.
"Sorry," her face was full of apology, yet her eyes remained steadfast as ever.
"I’ve been embroidering for many years and want to keep some memorabilia, so I don’t want to sell."
"Really not selling?"
Mr. Song’s eyes dangerously narrowed, his aura suddenly filled with killing intent.
"Yes, not selling," Qin Xiangnuan gently curved her lips, deflecting the issue. She really didn’t intend to sell. And surely, it couldn’t be that someone would forcefully execute a sale. Without Jian Zhiqing’s involvement, she might believe that someone would force a sale, but now, it was different, relationships mattered. You have to leave some face.
Even if it came to a forced sale, she would rather burn it than sell it to such a person.
Jian Zhiqing had said he could take her Qingming River Painting back today. And with Mr. Song present, it should be in the living room. She nodded slightly to Mr. Li and headed to the living room.
Indeed, the large screen was there, matching well with the antique furniture inside; and the frame seemed to be made of redwood or similar timber. She wasn’t sure, but it was red, not painted, and close up, she could smell a fresh wooden scent, the natural smell of timber.
She placed her hand on the screen, unaware of what had been applied to it. It felt like the texture of fabric to the touch, yet the overall sense was much thicker, and the colors seemed to saturate more. Not having seen the painting before, she did not want to sell it. Now having seen it, she wanted even less to sell.
She liked this screen very much because it resonated with her.
You can’t buy favorites with money. And the Qin Xiangnuan of today could say she wasn’t short on money, so, not selling.
Mr. Song eventually left, but his face was stretched long like a horse’s. Qin Xiangnuan felt a twinge of guilt, yet it was not enough to make her transfer the screen to someone else. Though it would not be a gift but rather a paid transaction, she still didn’t like it.
Throughout, Mr. Li didn’t say a word. Mr. Song repeatedly tried to hint to Mr. Li, perhaps wanting his help in saying a few good words, but Mr. Li acted as if he had suddenly become temporarily blind and didn’t respond a single time.
"Well, this thing can be passed down. It’s a pity to sell," Mr. Li finally spoke after Mr. Song had left, probably not wanting to lose face in front of Mr. Song.
"Some things are priceless; money can be made, but once sold, seeking the same again is difficult. Moreover, who knows if it might appreciate in the future? Mr. Song’s offer was high, but years or even decades later, if sold, the price could be even higher."
No one is a fool, so Mr. Li had not spoken in favor of Mr. Song. Furthermore, he himself quite liked the piece.
Qin Xiangnuan knew that these people who had lived long lives were sharper and more thoughtful than one another.
She touched the screen again; it was quite smooth. She really didn’t know what was added on top. Unlike Mr. Song, she didn’t handle it over-cautiously; she couldn’t move or touch it. With two pieces of experience behind her, a third embroidery would be easier. She wondered if she should embroider another one to sell to the system and earn a few more Gold Coins.