Chang Zhi naturally saw it—the red box. If not for the impact of the torrential rain, it would have been truly difficult to discover; at least, he had not noticed it on his previous visit, nor had his elder brother seen it during several ancestral veneration rituals, nor had the clan members who came to tend to the graves each year.
The young servants looked around left and right, while Steward Ding also waited for Fourth Master to speak.
Chang Zhi's heart thudded wildly. Even when he was a child, uninvolved in worldly affairs, he knew his family had some small secrets. For instance, they seemed to have a wealth that was slightly too substantial. Their branch of the family tree was thinly populated, especially by the time of his grandfather, who was the sole scion—yes, his father was also the last of his line.
