The Smoke Pipe
Irving carefully looked at the pipe in his hand, but he couldn't figure out its origin using his perspective power. He decided it was better to call home first and ask. He dialed his father's phone number.

"Dad, how are you over there?... How's mum too?...." Holding the pipe in his hand, Irving played with it carefully. "Dad, did you send me a pipe?"

There was the sound of pots and pans clattering on the other end of the phone, and at the same time, his father's voice also sounded. "Yes, I sent it. I was busy cleaning up my old house a few days ago? Then I found a box with this pipe in it. The wooden box seems to have been crushed, but the pipe is still intact. Since I don't know what to do with it, and you just told us of your antique works, so I sent it to you first. I hope you can identify it, because I don't know how old this thing is."

Hearing this, Irving stopped playing with it and grabbed the pipe. Could this be an antique from our house? Observing carefully again, Irving se
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