Rebirth in 1980: The Farm Wife Makes a Comeback
Chapter 328 - 238: Masterpiece

Chapter 328: Chapter 238: Masterpiece

"Got it," Jian Zhilin went to the kitchen and in a moment, he soaked some pancakes in a small basin, then added some meat soup to it, and brought it out for Conghua to eat.

Conghua wagged its tail, trailing Jian Zhilin here and there, the poor guy, always giving a little extra, as he was the one feeding Conghua every day.

The boys of the Jian family seemed destined to do household chores, those poor sons of the Jian family.

Jian Zhiqing carried one child and led another, preparing to drop them off at school, then head to work himself.

"We’re heading out," he turned and said to Qin Xiangnuan, who was sweeping the yard.

"Okay, see you," Qin Xiangnuan waved her hand and continued sweeping.

They rarely had mornings like this. Usually, Qin Xiangnuan was the one who got up the earliest in the house. By the time they left, Qin Xiangnuan would already be out selling scallion pancakes. So, she seldom stayed at home at this time.

There were indeed many chores to do at home. Such a big yard required some time to tidy up. Time here wasn’t like in the system where you could waste it freely. She spent her mornings cleaning the house, washing the bedsheets, and even Jian Zhilin’s and Taotao’s little blankets.

Now the only one left was Jian Zhiqing’s.

Should she wash it? She hesitated, after all, he was an adult male. Even if they were siblings, it was not appropriate to just barge into his room.

She had no choice but to pick up the phone, dialing Jian Zhiqing’s office landline. At this moment, she really missed that thing called a mobile phone, which did exist now but was like those huge bricks, only good for showing off or hitting people—very effective.

"Hello..."

"Uh-huh, Nuannuan."

Jian Zhiqing could tell it was her just by listening, "What’s up?"

"It’s not much," Qin Xiangnuan played with the telephone cord, "I washed the bedsheets today and was wondering if I should wash yours too, Brother Jian?"

"Sure," Jian Zhiqing leaned back in his chair, feeling as if the files stacked on his desk suddenly looked adorable, "Please wash them for me, and I’ll treat you to dinner when I get back."

"You mean it," Qin Xiangnuan said as she prepared to make a list, planning to have a hearty meal at Jian Zhiqing’s expense.

"Of course, a meal from Brother Jian is still affordable. You decide where to eat," he hung up the phone, picked up the reports on the desk, and felt in a good mood. The seriousness in his eyes dissolved into a smile, brightening like delicate sunlight breaking through the clouds, warming the atmosphere.

"Why, you’re in a good mood," said a man who sat across from Jian Zhiqing, "Did your little wife call?"

Jian Zhiqing lifted his face and tossed a pile of files onto his desk, "Handle this."

"Why me?" the man pointed at his nose, "I have to chase a woman later. How can I do all this? I won’t have time."

"Quit nagging," Jian Zhiqing picked up another pile, "If you say another word, this pile is yours too."

The man then reacted as if he’d seen a ghost, quickly taking his share of the files and leaving. That was enough to keep him busy for a day, and if he got another stack, he might have to stay the night. He wasn’t like Jian Zhiqing, a workaholic with terrifying efficiency.

When you compare yourself to others, it’s exhausting.

After Jian Zhiqing finished his work, around five in the afternoon, he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Mr. Song, it’s me, Jian Zhiqing. Remember the thing we talked about this morning... Well, I’ll bring the item over in a bit. I’m sorry to trouble you. Alright, see you soon."

He hung up the phone, organized the files in order, tidied up his office a bit. Compared to the chaos in most offices, his was well-organized, there was no sudden searching, no rummaging through drawers.

After work, he first went to Mr. Song’s. That’s the person he had an appointment with. Mr. Song’s family had been making furniture for generations, and Mr. Song himself was a craftsman. It wasn’t easy to ask Mr. Song for a favor. He was peculiar. If he didn’t like the style or appearance of an item, he wouldn’t take it, no matter how much money was offered. The only thing that moved him was if he took a liking—what he called having the right "eye."

If he liked it, he were willing to do it even for free.

The reason Jian Zhiqing could form a relationship with Mr. Song was because his recuperating grandfather had connections with Mr. Song; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to ask Mr. Song for this favor. Qin Xiangnuan’s Embroidery of the Qingming River Painting might not be known by her to be valuable, but Jian Zhiqing knew that it could be considered a national treasure. There aren’t many who understood this embroidery craft, only the Shi Family and Bai Family, both of which are ancient Embroidery with hereditary skills, and yet are rivals, never dealing with each other.

He had seen the embroidery passed down in their family once or twice. Although it was exquisite, it wasn’t as impressive as what Qin Xiangnuan embroidered, which seemed to transcend the ordinary, not confined to a single embroidery technique. But that’s beside the point.

He didn’t trust anyone else with the Qingming River Painting other than Mr. Song.

He brought the item first to Mr. Song.

Mr. Song had been waiting early on.

"Have you brought the item?" Mr. Song, dressed in a Chinese-style tunic suit, sat upright on a grand-master’s chair, with a set of teaware in front of him, all antique blue and white porcelain. It seemed well-used, and whether these were antiques or not, considering Mr. Song’s taste, even if they were not antiques, they surely weren’t substandard.

"I have brought it, please have a look, Mr. Song."

Jian Zhiqing respectfully placed the item in front of Mr. Song.

Mr. Song didn’t look at it immediately but instead poured a cup of Longjing Tea for Jian Zhiqing.

"Top-quality Longjing, have a taste. It’s water from our own well, your grandfather did quite like it."

"Thank you," Jian Zhiqing took the cup, and mentioning his grandfather, he knew that Mr. Song was indeed doing him a favor this time.

After a cup of tea, Mr. Song leisurely took out the item from the bag without haste or rush. Although his demeanor seemed nonchalant, his actions were extremely careful. Anything Mr. Song chose to work on was certain to be extraordinary.

If it was a product of his craftsmanship, it would without a doubt be excellent.

He took out the item from the bag, and upon seeing what was inside, he was momentarily startled.

"This is..."