On the ancient street in the early morning, the weather was slightly cool.
At the door of the gallery, which was usually sluggish, there was an unexpected gathering of people today. After a brief silence, there was a fierce noise immediately.
Old man Wu, Pan Shengcheng, and Zhang Qitian had different expressions on their faces at the door of the antique shop.
"Damn it, when did this bastard come? When did I say that I would sell the wooden sculpture to him?" Wu Sanri gritted his teeth and said one after another, his complexion turned blue and white.
Zhang Qitian frowned, "That surname Yin has been stable for a long time. He himself is a tyrant in this Ancient Street. Today, a good thing was discovered in the earthen jar, so he came and mixed his feet here, there is nothing wrong with that."
It is the same life whether we spend it crying or laughing.