Jin Hua, on hearing this, had nothing more to say, "Then... later, I’ll call off the search."
"Mm," Cengran responded indifferently.
Just at that moment, the door to the study was suddenly pushed open.
"Ah Ran, have you seen my sack?"
As the door swung open, a discordant voice rang out, followed by the disheveled Little Uncle Jin walking in.
"If there’s nothing else, let’s end the call," Cengran said, disregarding him and turning to Jin Hua first.
"Nothing else," Jin Hua replied immediately.
Cengran turned off the video and looked up at Little Uncle Jin, "What?"
"A sack, one with half a sack of items in it, about this big," Little Uncle Jin said, gesturing with his hands to show the size to Cengran.
Cengran thought for a moment and then remembered, "It’s thrown into the storeroom."
"What?!" Little Uncle Jin exclaimed, "You actually threw it in the storeroom? Inside are my treasured calligraphy brushes."
Little Uncle Jin spoke and promptly turned to leave, limping toward the study door. Reaching the door, he suddenly stopped, turned his head to give Cengran one last look, "I’m going to the black market later; my assistant will come to our house to pick up a painting. Remember to give him the Dried Well Painting from my painting studio."
"What, setting up shop at the black market again?" Cengran asked casually in response to his statement.
"Yeah," Little Uncle Jin replied offhandedly.
"Going to find an heir again?" Cengran asked, his tone laced with a hint of teasing.
"Of course," Little Uncle Jin said, then muttered softly, "I refuse to believe I can’t find someone who appreciates its true value."
Cengran just smiled and didn’t speak again.
Not long after Little Uncle Jin left, his assistant came to pick up the painting.
Cengran rode the elevator up to the fourth floor.
The Jin Family had several studies: a large one on the second floor, three smaller ones on the third floor, and the remaining rooms were all painting studios.
Seated in his wheelchair, Cengran pushed open the door to one of the studios.
Inside the studio, thick curtains were drawn, making the light extremely dim.
In such dark light, Cengran really couldn’t tell which one was the Dried Well Painting, so he switched on the light.
With a "click," the entire room brightened.
The studio was filled with paintings and paints.
The Dried Well Painting was positioned by the door, clearly visible at a glance, but Cengran’s gaze fell on another painting instead.
This painting was hung on the wall. There were many other paintings on the walls, but only this one occupied a wall all by itself.
Named Whale Falling into the Starry Sea Painting, it was one of his uncle’s favorite paintings, acquired two years ago; no one knew who the artist was, but everyone in the family liked it a lot—though none could win it from his uncle.
Cengran sat in his wheelchair, eyes slightly raised, staring at the painting for a long time.
The longer he stared, the more he felt like he was plunging into the starry sky; the whale in the painting seemed to come to life, whimpering lowly as it emerged from the starry sea, gliding between stars, then diving into the deep, boundless expanse of the cosmos.
Those whimpers, like calls from ancient times, sounded like crying yet were incredibly healing to listen to.
After gazing for a long time, the whale played in the starry sea for quite a while, then suddenly, it changed direction.
As if it had become aware of his presence, it turned its head, looking straight at him, and then let out a low cry. Though still a whimper, Cengran felt like he heard a cheer.
The whale leaped from the starry sea, flying straight towards him.
Just as the whale was only centimeters away, a ringtone sounded.
The illusion shattered, and Cengran came back to reality.
The painting was still just a painting, and the whale remained quietly settled within it.