"Fake painting? Xiao Xiao, how do you know it's a fake?"
Qiao Xuanxuan had some difficulty believing that Bai Yingying would present a fake painting as a gift for becoming an apprentice, as the gift traditionally symbolized goodwill, and even a painting by an anonymous street artist was acceptable, but bringing a fake painting as a gift was too much.
"Because that is my painting."
Ye Xiao looked at the excited expressions of the old painters on stage, who couldn't even distinguish between an original and a copy at a glance; their painting skills probably weren't much better. If Zhu Xiang were still alive, he would have been angry enough to vomit blood.
"Xiao Xiao, you're saying that painting is yours?"
Qiao Xuanxuan widened her eyes and covered her mouth, disbelief written all over her face.
"Of course it's my painting. Why would I give them one of our family's Zhu Xiang's paintings? They're not worthy."
Ye Xiao laughed.
