Inside the courtyard, the ground was almost covered.
Some shells were still sealed, their rough surfaces catching the light, while others had already been cracked open, their broken halves lying scattered around like discarded bowls.
A few guards sat cross-legged with tools in hand, their faces so serious that anyone who did not know better might think they were performing some sacred ritual instead of prying open shells with awkward strength.
"Ah! This one has something!" one suddenly shouted, holding up a small pearl with shining eyes.
"Of course it has something, Young Miss chose it," another replied immediately, his tone full of blind confidence, though he had not understood the process at all.
Near the center of the courtyard, Uncle Shen stood with his hands behind his back, watching everything with a face that looked both proud and deeply troubled at the same time.
