Ruan Xianxian punched the spitting auntie, and when she saw it, she realized that there was more fear in her eyes than sadness.

“My grandfather is no longer here. You’re defiling the dead. Aren’t you afraid of your tongue rotting?”

After being hit, the woman didn't dare to retaliate. She turned around and ran into the neighboring yard faster than a mouse.

"Excuse me!" a young man said. "We are newly arrived educated youth from this area. May we go in and buy some furniture?"

"Get out!" the junior brother roared.

Looking dejected, Lin Wenmao stopped his junior brother, glanced at the crowd, and made way for them: "Come in."

Ruan Xianxian understood. Although Abe Tomoya had killed Old Lin, he had not given up on what Old Lin had. He had tried to win over or control the two brothers, hoping to find a breakthrough through them.

Seeing this, Ruan Xianxian felt relieved.

Da Huang once said that no one except Lin Miao himself knew about his treasure trove.

It's one thing if Dahuang is a dog, but Lin Miao, with his black heart, would never easily reveal the location of the treasure to others.

Having obtained the information she wanted, Ruan Xianxian returned to the oil mill with complete peace of mind.

Inside the factory building, which is over five meters high, the oil presses were rumbling. Mu Xia and the others were standing next to three very old oil presses.

The middle-aged woman, who looked like a junior manager, shook her head repeatedly. "Are you kidding me? The oil press is scrapped. You can sell it for scrap metal and still get a good price. Don't even think about getting less than a thousand."

When the group saw Ruan Xianxian walking over with her hands behind her back, they felt like they had seen a savior and took a step back in unison, giving up their spot.

Regardless of whether the person wanted it or not, this guy, acting all familiar, stepped forward and shook hands with the deputy director.

"You must be Director Song Jie from the oil press. I've heard Director Jia Yongjun mention you before, saying that the oil press you manage has an astonishing output."

At first I didn't believe it, but after seeing the spirit of your factory's workers today, I finally understand Uncle Jia's discerning eye.

"May I take up a little of your time? Shall we find a quieter place to sit down and talk?"