"Didn't I ask yet?"
Zhou Xuan was intrigued by the eyes in the Blood Well, as they engaged him in a direct stare without being divined.
Then he saw a picture—a vintage bookshop that also sold small antiques, paintings, and calligraphy.
The shop had a door curtain made of white cloth, with three words written on it: Old Painting Pavilion.
Zhou Xuan remembered this bookstore. Earlier that morning, when he and Lv Mingkun came from East Market Street to Shande Hospital, he had noticed this shop on East Market Street.
A street full of funeral businesses, and a bookstore right in the middle of it, stood out remarkably.
"Is this a refinement of the last divination's guidance?" Zhou Xuan began to understand.
Last time he went into debt with the Blood Well to inquire about a more specific tattoo opportunity.
