Little Puppet, I told you to paint, not to put makeup on me!

Shen Le patted the little one's head and placed the order for that string of Jujube Wood beads, making sure to communicate with customer service that he specifically required beads without holes drilled in them.

Then, with patient composure, he continued to slowly carve and refine the various nicks and dents on the Ink Marker.

He cut a small piece of wood, chiseled a mortise, and patched the spot that had been knocked off the outside of the ink reservoir.

He picked up the Woodworking Glue and wood dust, filling the gaps in the lion's ears, the tiny crevices across the lion's body, and smoothing it over the lion's head.

Then, he picked up his carving knife, Woodworking Chisel, and electric drill, carving away bit by bit with meticulous care.

All the seams were sanded smooth one by one and polished; on the ridges formed by the wood dust and Woodworking Glue, he carved out the missing tufts of hair on the lion's head, strand by strand.

"Mmm... my carving skills are still pretty decent, aren't they..."

Shen Le picked up the Ink Marker, inspecting it from left to right, feeling quite satisfied.

The hair on the lion's head was gathered into small, chrysanthemum-shaped tufts. They were evenly distributed with fluid lines, blending seamlessly with the original hair; if you ignored the color, you couldn't tell it was a new addition at all.

As for the color, was that really a difficult task?

"Xiao Ling! Help me bring over the paint box!"

"Coming~~~"

The Little Puppet ran over with a pitter-patter. With a wave of her small hand, dozens of Silk Threads danced through the air, lifting the paint box and delivering it to the table.

With a hook of two threads, the paint box opened automatically, and the threads then dipped down to pick up the paint tubes one by one, ready for action:

"Which one do you need?"

"This one, this one, this one..."

Shen Le pointed them out one by one, and the Silk Threads unscrewed the caps and handed them to him.

Xiao Ling grabbed a brush herself and began stirring the paint palette, mixing the colors until they gradually matched the original shade of the Ink Marker:

"Hey, don't rush the brushing! Let me teach you: when applying paint, you can't be impatient. You have to go layer by layer, slowly. Follow the original wood grain and the lines of the carving. Look, dip a little paint, thin out the tip of the brush, and hold it like this..."

After teaching her once, he handed her a scrap piece of wood and told Xiao Ling to go play elsewhere. He held the Ink Marker himself and, with great patience, colored the repaired areas stroke by stroke.

The Ink Marker had the potential to become a spirit; such an important object couldn't be left for the Little Puppet to practice on.

If she liked it, she could slowly paint the beams and pillars of the mansion later on; that would save him from having to set up a ladder to reach the ceiling...

Shen Le chuckled to himself, calculating his plans as he continued to restore the Ink Marker.

This was delicate work, and to make the carvings on the Ink Marker look lifelike, the coloring had to be precise.

With a paint brush in one hand and a high-powered hair dryer in the other, he had to ensure that every stroke of paint was dried as quickly as possible so it wouldn't pool or clump in any one spot...

"Ugh, this hair dryer is so big and heavy, and the noise is deafening. It's so tiring to hold. I wonder when I'll be able to afford a Dyson, and I wonder if a Dyson would be more efficient at drying this paint...

Xiao Ling! Don't you dare drip paint on my head!!!"

Honestly, I let you play with the paint, not so you could splatter it everywhere, and certainly not so you could give me a makeover!

If you keep acting up, you're going to be the one sweeping the courtyard!!!

Restoring antiques to their original state is a technical job that requires patience; it isn't something that can be finished in a moment.

Shen Le worked all night, sent the Little Puppet off to work the next day, and returned home to continue. He applied one layer of paint, then another, then switched to a fan-shaped brush to meticulously paint in the wood grain.

Afterward, he used an airbrush to spray the patterns on the wood, polished it, and applied wax...

Shen Le found this woodworking task leisurely and enjoyable, losing himself in the process.

He had a house and money—though not a fortune, it was a steady stream, and he didn't have to worry about food or clothing.

If he ever truly needed a large sum of money, he could sell any piece of furniture in the mansion and have hundreds of thousands or millions in his account in an instant.

Financial freedom and the ability to do what he loved—it was truly a happy life...

His happiness, however, did not mean all carpenters were happy.

By the time he finished his work near dusk, he slung a bag over his shoulder and took the Ink Marker out for a stroll. At the bridge at the end of the Old Street, he immediately spotted a group of people scattered about, some standing and some squatting, each with a sign at their feet:

Fixing faucets, replacing toilets, clearing drains, cleaning range hoods, installing ceilings, building cabinets...

Plus a long string of digits for a phone number. It was obvious they were day laborers, standing there every day, hoping to land a temporary job to earn enough money to support their families.

And it was already nearly night. For those still standing there at this hour who hadn't found work...

How would they cover their expenses for the day? How would their families survive?

Shen Le sighed inwardly and walked slowly past them, silently making a mental note: if the mansion ever needed a tile replaced or a leak fixed, perhaps he could come here to find someone.

Passing that intersection, he was drawn to a nearby shop selling pork knuckle rice and wandered inside. Just as he sat down to wait for his meal, he heard muffled, tense arguing coming from behind him.

He turned his head and saw the couple who had sold him the Ink Marker sitting at a table behind him, their backs to him. To be precise, it wasn't a fight; the wife was tugging at her husband, pulling him hard while lecturing him one-sidedly:

"How could you only charge 100 yuan! Installing a ceiling—that's such a big job, how is 100 yuan enough! Others charge at least three hundred, what were you thinking charging 100! Go back after we eat and ask for the rest!"

"I..."

"Don't 'I' me! Tell me, did you take a fancy to that woman?!"

"No! Absolutely not! It's just that they're a poor widow and her child..."

"So the widow and her orphan are pitiful? Then why don't you go live with them!" The wife's voice grew increasingly shrill.

"They're pitiful, but Linlin and I aren't, right? You work away from home, while I have to hold down a job, raise Linlin, and look after two elderly parents all by myself. When your father had that cerebral hemorrhage and Linlin was running a high fever at the same time, I was running around like a headless chicken, and you didn't lift a finger. I carried it all on my own, didn't I!"

"Xiulan... that was so long ago..."

"It's in the past for you, but it never left me! When Linlin broke his leg, I was the one who carried him to school every single day—carried him there in the morning and carried him back at night. And you? What were you doing?"

"Xiulan..." The man's voice carried a hint of pleading.

"Stop it, just stop... I'll treat you all well from now on..."

"From now on? Zheng Xiaohua, I don't care about 'from now on,' I just need you to earn some money right now! Go, go get it back!!!"

"Xiulan! Let it go this time!" The man struggled to anchor himself to the chair, trying his best to resist his wife's tugging.

"I heard her say her son doesn't even have money for food at school!"

"And your son does?!"

Shen Le hurriedly pressed his hand against his backpack.

This is bad. He could feel Little Ink Marker starting to bounce around inside!

Ink Marker, don't you dare make a scene!