At mid-5 p.m., Wang Jian, sweating profusely, hurried back with a freshly organized list and a copper box sealed with a paper strip.
Just this day alone, he'd gone to the Imperial City in the morning, then Xinliang City in the afternoon, and had run between three places, which had tired him out greatly. Still, the smile on his face showed that he'd had quite a fruitful trip.
After knocking, Wang Jian strode quickly inside. Without waiting for Shen Hao to ask, he said directly, "Sir, we've found plenty!"
Earlier, Wang Jian had sent a message with the Thousand-Mile Sound, but now, seeing Wang Jian open the copper box in person—inside was a pile of correspondence half a foot thick and seven or eight Thousand-Mile Sound pieces—Shen Hao felt a great wave of relief.
"Are all these…?"
"All of them! Seventy-seven letters in total, and eight Thousand-Mile Sound notes. Some are even from more than ten years ago; the Zhou Family kept them all."
