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The bespectacled elder shook his head as he ate from the dish of lamb. “From our research and discussion, we’ve reached a preliminary conclusion: what the Mingde Great Encyclopedia recorded was true. What was false was the statement made by that Daoist master in front of all those covetous rogues. In truth, the painting remained with the Dou family.”
“Then the Daoist did that in order to…”
“To divert the eyes of the martial world, protecting the Dou family and their painting. He himself had no desire for the so-called ‘Greatest Painting of the Ages.’“
“…”
The group exchanged looks.
“A man of great virtue…”
“How I’d love to see it.”
“Yes…”
Lady Calico listened in silence, expressionless.
Perhaps because she had such stories to accompany her meal, she finished the entire clay pot of congee, polished off half a braised chicken—bones and all—and cleared the lamb flatbread long before the end of the discussion. Only the plate of cherry flatbread remained, nearly untouched, save for one piece with a neat bite mark, placed back on the dish.
The girl slipped her hand into the brocade pouch, drew out a plastic bag, and swept the cherry flatbread, bite-marked one included, into it, intending to freeze them and take them back to feed the Daoist. She rinsed her private little porcelain bowl with some water, then stood to leave.
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