"Thank you, ma'am. I'll come see you again next time," Adrian Hawthorne said with a smile.
"Don't bring so many people next time. It draws too much attention," the old lady said in a low voice.
"Alright."
Adrian Hawthorne nodded at her, then left, carrying the bag and the stool. The trip had been incredibly fruitful. New books would have cost at least twenty, but he had gotten all this for only two—plus a red sandalwood stool. It was an absolute steal.
That's right. The stool Tang Xiaonan had her eye on was made of precious red sandalwood. Although Adrian Hawthorne hadn't had an easy life since he was born, the Hawthorne family was a classic case of a starved camel still being bigger than a horse—even in decline, they still had some fine possessions. Red sandalwood furniture was one of them. The cradle Adrian Hawthorne had slept in as a child was made of red sandalwood, and the scent was all too familiar to him.
