Rebirth in 1980: The Farm Wife Makes a Comeback
Chapter 348: Not for Sale

Chapter 348: Chapter 348: Not for Sale

Qin Xiangnuan grabbed his wrist, looked at the watch face, and felt an urge to bite Jian Zhiqing. She knew she woke up late today, yet he still talked so much with her, it was like he was intentionally making her late, wasn’t he?

Still not leaving, Jian Zhiqing continued to urge her, but no matter how you look at it, it’s already this time, it won’t wait for you for a moment.

The more he talked, the angrier she became.

Qin Xiangnuan directly grabbed Jian Zhiqing’s arm and bit down.

What a little rascal, Jian Zhiqing rubbed his wrist, truly proving the saying that women and villains are difficult to raise. Conghua is a big dog, and now Nuannuan has started to follow in Conghua’s footsteps.

Having bitten Jian Zhiqing, Qin Xiangnuan was in quite a good mood; even if she was late, it was worth it.

Jian Zhiqing returned to his office, touched his arm, and felt the bite. This girl really did bite down hard, painful indeed. It seems it would be wise not to offend her in the future, otherwise, the bitter consequences would follow.

After finishing his work, he went to Mr. Song’s place after work.

He didn’t know if his eyesight was failing, but as soon as Mr. Song saw him, his originally fine expression instantly soured, looking as though Jian Zhiqing had come to rip out his heart.

"Is the girl willing to sell?"

Mr. Song stood up, and with a straightforward first question, he didn’t ask anything else but this.

"This..." Jian Zhiqing found it difficult to answer.

"Sorry, Mr. Song," he could only apologize sincerely, "The girl said she won’t sell it. She’s been embroidering it for years, just to keep it as a memento."

"Didn’t you tell her that I would pay any amount of money?" Mr. Song wore a Zhongshan Suit, his hands behind his back, and although he was getting on in years with white hair, he looked spirited, especially now, his eyes sharp and his upright posture almost tense.

"I did," Jian Zhiqing felt helpless about Mr. Song’s persistence. Mr. Song’s manner appeared as if he did not want to let go of the screen. Perhaps Mr. Li made a mistake, entrusting the screen to Mr. Song, and now goodwill had led to trouble.

"I’ll give her twenty thousand," Mr. Song’s eyes widened, "This should be enough, right?"

Jian Zhiqing shook his head, "Sorry, she won’t sell it, it’s not about the money."

"Fifty thousand," Mr. Song’s face instantly fell. This should be enough, right?

"Sorry, Mr. Song," Jian Zhiqing repeated, "The girl, she won’t sell."

"Really won’t sell?" Mr. Song’s face grew even longer, his voice stern with authority. If it were anyone else, they might have been scared by his imposing manner already. But the person before him wasn’t just anyone, it was Jian Zhiqing, who was accustomed to living under the pressure of Mr. Li from a young age.

"Be careful, don’t damage it." Mr. Song’s voice was filled with anxiety, fearing these young people might handle the screen clumsily and damage it, even though he’d wrapped it with three layers inside and out and erected wooden frames on top. He was nervous, almost ready to accompany it in the vehicle himself.

The vehicle was also laid with a very thick quilt, almost as if Mr. Song had pulled it right off his own bed.

Jian Zhiqing truly felt helpless. Was it necessary to be so cautious? It was just a screen, and a soft one at that. He’d seen the original Qingming River Painting embroidered by Qin Xiang, very sturdy, resistant to even a knife cut, let alone casual knocks. It wouldn’t break to pieces that easily.

Furthermore, Qin Xiang had originally placed it in the living room, the busiest space in the house. Inevitably, there would be bumps and brushes against the screen. Surely after taking it back, they wouldn’t just keep it rolled up to collect mold, would they?

The vehicle finally arrived, and the driver couldn’t help but wipe the sweat from his forehead. All along the way, Mr. Song had sat beside him, repeatedly cautioning to be careful, drive slower, and even slower. What was usually a matter of minutes turned into an hour’s journey. Even bicycles on the roadside were faster than them.

The driver looked at Jian Zhiqing with a pleading face, seeking help.

"Brother, are we really here?"

"Yes, yes, we’re here." Jian Zhiqing also felt rather embarrassed. He had not expected Mr. Song to personally come over. Initially, he thought they would just bring the screen directly home. But unexpectedly, the usually reclusive Mr. Song insisted on delivering it himself.

Personally delivering it to their door.

Their house was small; it was truly difficult to invite such a grand figure over.

Mr. Song was considered one of the nation’s foremost cultural vanguards, a master artist of national treasure status. His visit was sure to add luster to their humble home, but Jian Zhiqing couldn’t help but rub his forehead, feeling that this kind of honor was more than they could bear.

"Why are you here?"

As Mr. Li stepped out of the house, he saw Mr. Song had come, his face stern, "What, did someone offend you, giving me such a long face upon arrival?"

Mr. Song snorted. Seeing those workers starting to unload the screen from the vehicle, his face changed with fright.

"Be careful, what need is there for such force? If it breaks, I’ll have your heads."

The old master was just as he always had been, loud and clear.

Mr. Song had no time to care about Mr. Li at the moment. In his heart and eyes, there was only the Qingming River Painting screen. He had crafted this screen by his own hands; it took over a month to complete. Every step, he had done personally, never entrusting it to another’s hands.

The screen should have already been ready, but he couldn’t bear to part with it. Since Jian Zhiqing hadn’t come to claim it, he didn’t feel the urge to notify them. If they forgot about it altogether, so much the better. It was a bit shameless, throwing away all he stood for in his life, but he couldn’t care less.

In his entire life, he had only seen such an embroidery of the Qingming River Painting, how could he not be moved? Of course, he was greedy. But the item was not his, it did not bear the surname Song. He just couldn’t let go, so he shed his ego to follow it here, fearing that those people, with their clumsy hands, might spoil it. If even a corner was marred, he would be heartbroken. If it were a large corner, the pain would sear through his guts, and he might die from the agony.

Mr. Li had no idea what Old Man Song was up to. When the workers opened the wooden crate and carefully lifted out the screen, not only Mr. Li, but even the unlearned workers were astonished.

The painting was truly beautiful.

Although no one truly understood it, the ambiance, the profoundness, the depth belonging to the river of time, the thick memory of history, truly penetrated from their eyes deep into their hearts, deeply shaking even their souls.