HOÀN THÀNH
The Mask Isn't Real
The price alert bell rang loudly on the phone screen, and Vuong Uyen Nhi almost dropped the bowl of sticky rice paste she was stirring on the factory floor. At nine o'clock in the evening, the Moon Painting workshop was deserted, only she was sitting at a wooden table stained with the colors of three generations of craftsmen, on one side was a stack of uncle Cuoi's masks not yet covered with paper, on the other side was a phone propped up on a clamp stand, opening the online auction "Southeast Asian Folk Art" of Indochine Heritage Auctions. She came in to take a look out of curiosity, because sometimes people still sell some items...
✓Nội dung đã được biên tập và kiểm duyệt chất lượng
DANH SÁCH CHƯƠNG
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