The old Confucian scholar lifted his drooping eyelids, turned in place, raised two withered fingers, pressed against the sword, moved the swing aside, and slowly walked forward. He passed by the pretty young girl with a rigid smile and wide-eyed, murderous look, casually accepting the steaming "hometown dish" she held in her hands.
In the silent courtyard with bamboo leaves gently falling.
The old Confucian scholar, holding a smoking pipe behind him with one hand and a dish with the other, walked to the table where Zhao Rong and Zhang Huizhi sat, under Zhao Rong's silent gaze.
Zhang Huizhi, who hadn't spoken since just now, glanced at the old Confucian scholar, then gently turned his head, looking towards the southern direction of Dawei, and did not look at Zhao Rong.
"Ziyu, this elder Qin is my benefactor... When I was downcast and traveled south, it was the Qin family of Dawei that supported me..."
