"So, the moonlit orchids, Daoist Chen Yun…" Yang Qing gingerly prompted as he poured wine for the elderly man seated before him.
The man had a crown of frost-white hair that seemed to have weathered countless winters, along with a beard thinning in places. He wore a short, loose outer coat of faded yellow over a plain white, short-sleeved hemp shirt and matching trousers that barely reached his ankles, with a bamboo hat hanging over his shoulders. He looked more like a seasoned farmer or a wandering traveler.
"Yes, yes… but first, you won't begrudge an old man moistening his throat, will you?" Chen Yun said with a cheeky, toothy grin. He licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with desire as they fell on the light pink frost blossom wine Yang Qing had poured. It was as though winter and falling cherry blossoms had been captured in a single cup. One of Yie Jie's masterpieces. If Yang Qing had to grade it, he would place it solidly among the top four.