Ding Chenmo furrowed his brow tightly. Gifts? There was such an event? How come he, the person involved, didn't know about it?
At that moment, he heard a man laughing and asking, "So, Martial Hall Chief, do tell us, what exactly has Chief Ding given you?"
Ding Chenmo was also interested in this question.
He saw Wang Ye chuckle, pointing to the fan in his hand, "This house in my hand, as well as the tea I'm savoring right now, aren't they both gifts from Ding Chenmo? One of these days, I'll take some out, and have Zishu brew it for you to taste."
That broken fan?
Ding Chenmo's frown deepened. Could it be that fan he had bought for ten yuan on Antique Street years ago? It had been so many years; how had it not fallen apart yet?
"Thank you, Chief."
The group knew that Wang Ye was boasting, but they tactfully didn't expose him.
