In the study, Mr. Cheng looked at the son-in-law duo before him, then turned his gaze to the painting on the wall—"Nation." The calligraphy was regular and upright, yet it fit perfectly.
"How many paintings has the Chairman given to Jiao Jiao?"
Zhou Xiaozheng smiled at the question.
"Uncle, quite a few indeed. Every year there's at least one. Sometimes, when he's in a good mood, he even includes a calligraphy book."
For these matters, Mr. Cheng knew more than outsiders. For example, the child's thoughtful gesture of giving handmade shoes as a return gift—a genuine display of affection.
She's a caring girl, wise and discreet. Who wouldn't want a dozen daughters like her?
Mr. Cheng took the cup handed over by Zhang Guoqing. "A few days ago, Old Man Mo and the others kept asking me why a bunch of you kids were making such a fuss for a gathering?"
