Tian Jiao refused to budge, so Jiang Wu pried her hands off him and walked forward, one step at a time.
In truth, he already knew the answer. He had woven those few wicker baskets with his own hands; he could recognize them with a single glance.
But he couldn't accept it and still wanted to see what was inside.
The villagers also crowded around to get a look.
"Whoa, what is this stuff? It's all black and shriveled."
"It looks like vegetables, but not quite..."
"This sold for ten taels? Only a fool would buy it..."
When the restaurant owner heard someone say only a fool would buy it, he shot a furious glare at his son. Seeing the boy's dead-eyed, heartbroken expression, he wished he could just kick him to death on the spot.
Suppressing his rage, he asked Jiang Wu, "Is this from your family?"
Jiang Wu hadn't inherited his mother's talent for barefaced lying, so he nodded.
