Chen Ji returned to the West Wing but didn't hurry to rest. Instead, he scooped the soaked black beans from the water jar and poured them into the feed trough in front of the stable. Zhaolei lowered his head and chewed in big mouthfuls, happily flicking both ears.
He sat silently on the stone steps in front of the inverted house, the smell of wine still lingering in his breath.
Wu Yun poked out from his collar and asked curiously, "What are you thinking about?"
Chen Ji rested his chin on Wu Yun's furry head. "I'm thinking about whether Axia, Xiao Man, and the little monk can have a good New Year, whether they went to buy New Year goods, who's going to write the Spring Festival couplets tomorrow, who's going to paste the door gods, and whether my mess will ruin their mood."
"I'm thinking about what I should say when I see Master, whether the first thing he says to me will be really cutting…"
