Li Ming entered inside the shop and the first room that came into her view was a spacious and professionally decorated sitting area.
She wasn't expecting to see such a well-maintained shop and the workers who were busy in their works.
A woman in her late forties was sitting behind a desk, busy writing something in a very thick bounded notebook, which Li Ming guessed was probably an account book.
She was holding a brush in her right hand and was scribbling in the notebook, dipping the brush in the scraped ink every now and then.
If not for her pens, Li Ming had no idea if she could have the ability to even write in this world. Her calligraphy could be considered at the very bottom of the Pacific ocean.
But since she had two cabinets full of new boxes of her favorite pens, she didn't need to worry about her poor calligraphy skills.
The sitting area was empty except an eleven or twelve-year-old girl who was playing chess all alone.
