"If it wasn't a knife, what was it? I saw it clear as day yesterday; that knife was just three meters away from me! The living room lights were on, I couldn't have seen it wrong, could you have stitched it together incorrectly?"
Le Wenfeng looked bewildered and leaned over to take a look.
Tang Jin also poked his little head out from Tang Wenhuo's embrace.
The shattered porcelain pieces had been pieced together, and aside from the white of the broken edges, the rest of it presented a light green color.
It surely wasn't a knife—the thing that had been assembled fit tightly together, forming two palm-sized scales.
"I just spent half an eternity trying to fit it into the shape of a knife."
Rong Yinghui muttered to himself, standing up.
Le Wenfeng was dumbstruck.
"It's completely different, I mean, even if I were blind, I couldn't possibly mistake this thing for a knife, could I?"
Little Milk Jin wasn't surprised at all.
