Gu Yi'an truly didn't understand what Tan Jincheng meant.
That painting, wasn't it just a painting? She didn't know how to appreciate it, familiar or not.
Tan Jincheng couldn't help but sigh, "Nothing, that painting has special significance to me. Three hundred million, it's worth it."
Since Tan Jincheng said so, Gu Yi'an didn't ask anymore.
The real value of paintings and calligraphy is hard to determine, after all, they can't be eaten or drunk, their value is somewhat illusory.
So as long as Tan Jincheng felt the price of three hundred million was appropriate, then it was appropriate.
She closed her eyes and slowly fell asleep.
But she didn't know that his hand was gently stroking her smooth naked back, her skin was delicate and smooth like the finest silk, and in the middle of her back, near her spine, there was a black mole.
The black mole was about the size of a pinky nail, crescent-shaped. It was exactly the same as the one in the painting!
