That night, to welcome Changyangzi, Yang Ruxin showed off her full range of culinary skills, making a grand total of ten dishes and a soup; and then... what she saw was an old man with a white beard hopping around the table, his chopsticks flying.
Basically, the others could only watch.
"Are you sure this is your master?" Yang Ruxin poked her own man.
Gu Qingheng nodded: "He is indeed my master."
"What about that promised air of ethereal grace?"
"Did I ever say my master was ethereal?" Gu Qingheng widened his eyes.
"Didn't you?"
Gu Qingheng shook his head: "My master's ethereal grace depends on the time… for example, after he's had his fill, he's truly ethereal, like he's above worldly matters..." he chuckled, "because at that time, he can't eat anymore and can only pretend to be ethereal."
