In the afternoon, the sun shines through the glazed tiles, casting mottled light and shadow on the ground of the "Jubao Pavilion" in the antique city.
The air is mixed with the agarwood of old wood, the astringent smell of cheap tea, and a hint of copper rust.
Chen Mo was squatting in the corner, holding a soft cloth in his hand and slowly wiping an imitation blue and white porcelain vase. His movements were very slow and focused, as if it was not a handicraft worth tens of dollars, but a real Yuan blue and white flower.
Three years.
For three whole years, he never touched real "business" again.
The name "Dragon Seeker", along with his past, were buried in the ancient tomb of the Western Zhou Dynasty that collapsed three years ago.
Now, he is just a handyman apprentice in Jubao Pavilion, with a monthly salary of three thousand, taking care of food and housing.
"Hey, isn't this the famous 'Dragon Hunter' in our capital?"
A joking voice broke the silence in the store.
Chen Mo wiped it for a moment.
He didn't need to look back to know who was coming.
Wang Hao.
The eldest son of the Hanhai Group, who stepped on the blood of his master and Su Qing's father and squeezed into this circle, is now extremely famous.
Chen Mo stood up slowly and turned around.
Wang Hao was wearing a well-tailored Italian suit, with a shining Patek Philippe on his wrist, and the arrogance etched in his bones on his face. Standing next to him was Su Qing.
Su Qing was wearing a smart archaeological team uniform, with long hair tied back. She had an oval face and willow eyebrows. She still had the same cold look, but her eyes that could only see Chen Mo were now like knives tempered with ice, so cold that they hurt people.
Chen Mo's heart felt like it was stabbed hard by this gaze, and it ached deeply.
