"How much did Zhou Mingbao sell the screen for?"
Xiao Xiao asked.
"..."
Grandpa Xiao smacked his lips. "Four million."
"That kid really was selling it as if it were a Qing dynasty master's work."
"He sure asked for a lot."
Xiao Xiao fell silent.
Four million, times three, came to twelve million.
Even if Old Zhou sold his antique shop, he still wouldn't have that much money.
Unless all the antiques displayed in Old Zhou's shop were genuine.
Perhaps he could scrape together enough by selling them all.
"Twelve million."
Grandpa Xiao sighed. "Where would Old Zhou get that kind of money?"
"If it were a smaller amount, he could just pay it and be done with it."
"After all, Little Zhou was in the wrong to begin with."
"Just think of it as paying for a lesson and buying peace of mind."
"But a sum this large..."
"Even if Old Zhou was willing to pay, he couldn't come up with that much."
"Even though he doesn't have the money, Old Zhou can't just stand by and watch his son get beaten badly enough to end up in the hospital."
"If you ask me, that kid Little Zhou needs a lesson."
"Just let him get beaten up."
"Clearly, what happened with Old Wood last time gave him the wrong idea."
"He thought this sort of thing wasn't a big deal."
"He was wrong."
"I went to see Little Zhou just now."
The kid was lying on the bed, grimacing and sucking in breaths through his teeth. "Apart from looking a little worse for wear, he's doing fine."
"The other side really is professional. They knew how to hold back."
"I think what they said about keeping Little Zhou in the hospital for a few