Shen Qingyu raised his head and showed his usual gentle smile: "It's almost done. It will be finished tomorrow." Broken pottery figurines? He retorted silently in his heart, this is the happiness of the Eastern Han Dynasty, a smile that travels through time and space. But he didn't say it, just like he never said that he was from the "Jinling Shen family" - an ancient restoration family that had not been famous in his grandfather's generation. His father died early, leaving him only a room of old tools and half a incomplete notebook. My skills were broken, and my glory became a stone weighing on my heart.
Returning to the small rented apartment filled with old books and imitation cultural relics, Shen Qingyu habitually wiped an imitation Western Zhou bronze jue on Duobao Pavilion. The cool touch made him feel calmer. At this moment, a slight "click" sound suddenly came from an old wooden box left by his father that he had never cared about in the deepest part of the pavilion.
