The phone at Lu Tingyuan's home suddenly rang, and a low and threatening voice came from the receiver: "Do you think you can protect everything by hiding in Xiaojiang's workshop?" The phone was hung up instantly, leaving only a "beep" sound. Lu Tingyuan looked out the window at the dark night with solemn eyes. He knew that under the calm surface of Xiaojiang's workshop, a storm was quietly brewing.
Lu Tingyuan, 65, spends his days in Xiaojiang's workshop polishing paint shells with concentration. He looks like an ordinary old craftsman immersed in his craft. Unbeknownst to others, quietly lying in the inner pocket of his overalls was a commemorative silver pen from the Wall Street Financial Summit. This man who has made great changes in the capital circle is willing to hide here just to silently protect his daughter Lu Xingyao's dream of starting a lacquer art business.
Lu Xingyao wanted to get rid of the aura of "Lu Tingyuan's daughter". She clutched the reminder note with red eyes. In order to prove herself, she decided to devote three years of her savings to the lacquer art career. She never realized that the contact information of the upstream suppliers in the toolbox and the precise annotations on the raw material list were all the paths paved for her silently by her father.
