"Sir, Feng'er has always been naive and incredibly filial since he was a child. You certainly won't go wrong by taking him as your disciple. If nothing else, allowing him to serve you before and after saddle would also be permissible."
Before the counter.
A middle-aged woman begged time and time again, her eyes full of hope as she looked at Zhang Jing.
And beside her.
A handsome young man stood silently on the spot.
His face was exceptionally calm.
He could not remember how many times his mother had come to this Zhang's Clay Sculpture Shop, hoping the owner would take him as an apprentice.
But every time they returned empty-handed.
Over time.
He gradually lost any expectations.
Of course.
If he said that he did not want to be a disciple of the other party, then it would certainly be a lie.
After all, this Zhang's Clay Sculpture Shop has been revered as something extraordinary in their Changle Market, and even in several surrounding ones, over the past few years.
