A year older, the third master of Beijing circle kissed her to tears

Huo Yan's tongue trembled, "5, 5 years ago."

"Is the painting collected by the old gentleman from your hand?" Zhuang Zhoucheng asked again.

Huo Yan's heartbeat suddenly quickened, and the man in front of him suddenly became very scary.

She didn't know what else he knew and shook her head mechanically.

The man's eyes were dark, and he looked at her casually as if he were staring at prey:

"Huo Yan, as you said, people like me do have plenty of ways to find an accurate answer to my doubts."

He said, his hand gently caressing her neck.

"If I find out you've lied to me, I'll..." He exerted force on his palm, "break your neck!"

"what!"

Huo Yan screamed in fear, then nodded vigorously, "I... I understand, I understand."

Zhuang Zhoucheng withdrew his hand, ignoring the feeling of her delicate skin between his fingers, and his eyes fell on her face with full oppression.

Huo Yan opened his mouth and finally nodded in agreement:

"I can only say that the painting that Grandpa Ji collected was painted by me."

"Did you really draw this?"

Zhuang Zhoucheng had some guesses, but after confirming that it was her work, he was still shocked.

The painting treasured by the old father was actually painted by this... 20-year-old little girl!

If the old man knew this, he would faint.

Zhuang Zhoucheng's eyes changed when he looked at Huo Yan at that moment.

Huo Yan raised his eyes and said, "No, that's just a copy I made. I copied it one to one from the original painting. It's not my painting. My skills are not that high."

Zhuang Zhoucheng had a strange look in his eyes, still in shock at the truth.

After Huo Yan finished speaking, he felt uneasy and said:

"Mr. Zhou, I'm sure the old man wasn't looking for me. The most I can provide you is evidence that the painting is a fake."

After much thought, Zhuang Zhoucheng also felt that the person the old man was looking for could not be such a young girl.

It should be the painter of the original painting.

"Since you have seen the original, do you know the painter himself?" Zhuang Zhoucheng asked.

Huo Yan shook his head, "I really don't know him."

Zhuang Zhoucheng looked at Huo Yan, thinking about how much the old man treasured the painting. This also made him curious about what the real secret of the painting was.

It was an indisputable fact that the painting was a fake, but the old man didn't care.

So, who is the old man looking for?

Huo Yan's scalp tingled from being stared at by Zhuang Zhoucheng, and she turned her face to the car window.

It didn't matter that she turned her head, she actually found Xie Ke at the school gate, and his eyes seemed to be looking at her.

Huo Yan was frightened and turned to Zhuang Zhoucheng in a hurry.

Zhuang Zhoucheng saw her drastic movements, glanced outside, and didn't find anything unusual.

"what happened?"

Huo Yan pursed her lips and said, "I saw my classmates."

Zhuang Zhoucheng smiled, but the oppressive aura he exuded did not diminish in the slightest.

"Are you afraid of being seen?"

Huo Yan nodded. Fortunately, he hadn't stood outside the car stupidly. Now he just hoped Xie Ke would leave quickly.

But Xie Ke outside seemed to be standing at the school gate on purpose, as if he was making a phone call, or maybe waiting for someone.

Zhuang Zhoucheng raised his eyebrows and was about to say something when his cell phone rang.

Zhuang Zhou answered the phone and spoke in a foreign language that Huo Yan could not understand, which sounded like Spanish.

Huo Yan kept observing Xie Ke outside, feeling a little anxious.

Zhuang Zhoucheng hung up the phone and turned to Huo Yan, "Not leaving?"

Huo Yan was stunned with embarrassment and asked softly, "Mr. Zhou, how about I tell you a joke?"

Zhuang Zhoucheng: “???”