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“please stop talking about that, mr. Lee, have you felt anything special since you came here?”
“Yes, it’s too much, isn’t it?” Li duojin pointed to the top of his head. this was the attic of a villa.
home of 142 madmen
Li duanen found out that the dead Zheng Yu was a man with good sense. It was impossible to pinpoint exactly who made the contemporary art pieces on display in his home, and their production methods were not unified, each with a different style. he has a unique temperament, and even people like him who have not studied modern art very much can feel that he is beautiful and excellent at first glance.
what convinced him of Jeong Yu's hobbies was the antiques scattered in the cabinet in the hallway. they were probably dancer pottery from the han dynasty, silver jars with tiger heads from the Zhenli dynasty, burning palace incense from the ming and Yong dynasties...all antiques is real and valuable. .
of course, there was one antique item that Li tajin didn't see the signboard for.
It was an inplete bination of words, and he had never seen a similar poem in the books he had read since childhood, but he vaguely knew the style of the words.
mr. Zheng, are you also involved in culture and art? Li tajin asked.
chen xiaolin glanced at him and nodded, \"Yes, he used to be a famous art editor, but then he changed his career and became a writer.\"
he noticed that Li duanen's inplete words were special
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