Cao Weining prattled on patiently, “‘By the riverside I exclaimed, the corpses flow like a river.’ It describes how the elderly Laozi felt as if his spirit had visited the riverside one night in a dream, and looked down to see the dead flowing downstream with the running water. Extremely melancholic, he was inspired…”

Eyes wide, Gu Xiang exclaimed, “Master, Cao-dage knows so much, he even drops literary references!”

Zhou Zishu immediately understood why Zhang Chengling’s and Wen Kexing’s expressions were so solemn. Assuming indifference, he turned on his foot, and headed outside.

But he was spotted by the sharp-eyed, loose-lipped Wen Kexing, a person who had to bring others down into the muck with him regardless, who immediately yelled with fervour, “A-Xu, why are you walking out? We’ve been waiting for you for so long, come over quickly!”

...Zhou Zishu thought, this jinx[8] Valley Master Wen really embodied eight bloody lifetimes’ worth of iniquity.

Wen Kexing happily pulled a chair out, told Zhou Zishu to sit down, and personally poured wine for him, eagerly attentive as he said, “Quick, taste this tavern’s good wine, the taste is traditional, it’s not bad.”

Expressionless, Zhou Zishu attempted to use his gaze to convey his evaluation of him. Wen Kexing looked at him for half a beat, then all of a sudden, said in a coy voice, “We’re still in public…”

Seeing this, Gu Xiang covered Zhang Chengling’s eyes with a hand and said, with a grimace, “Even a dog’s eyes will be blinded.”

With a red face, Cao Weining stammered, “Miss, Miss, Miss Gu, a-actually, you don’t have to envy Zhou-xiong and Wen-xiong’s deep love, you’re as beautiful as a flower, there must be...must be...someone who secretly admires you…”

Gu Xiang blinked her wide, innocent eyes at him, asking, “Ah? Really? Where?”

Cao Weining stared at her in a daze, half a beat later, he asked in a non-sequitur, “Miss Gu, c-c-can I call you A-Xiang too?”

Zhou Zishu lowered his head to drink his wine in great concentration, reminding himself that it was impolite to have seen or heard anything; it was as agonising as sitting on a carpet of nails, disgusting him until even his tongue was numb. It was the first time in his life where he failed to taste what was in his cup.

But at this moment, a person walked in through the door. Upon laying eyes on this person, the raucous tavern quietened down in an instant--this was a woman, who walked in with her gaze fixed on something in particular. Noticing the waiter carrying plates staring at her, completely floored[9], she smiled slightly, and the plates in the waiter’s hands fell and shattered on the floor.