Yu Pingchuan was a famous oil painter in China. He was a gentle and noble scholar.
Now that he had said this, it was obvious that he was mad, especially when the other party was Lu Qishan.
Ning Li's eyelids twitched. She almost did not dare to imagine Old Master Lu's reaction on the other end of the phone.
She looked at Lu Huaiyu and saw that the man's expression was still calm. There was a faint smile on the corners of his eyes and brows. It was as if he was not bothered about Yu Pingchuan's undisguised scolding.
She took a deep breath and felt that she had underestimated his shamelessness.
On the other side, Old Master Lu, who was about to eat, was stunned when he received the call.
"Pingchuan, what's wrong?"
Yu Pingchuan laughed coldly.
