The beggar looked to be nearly forty, with a beard on his chin, looking a bit sloppy.
He snorted disdainfully and shook the broken bowl in front of him.
"Hey, young master, either give me money or stop bothering me."
"This Martial Arts Training Ground is bustling with people; anyone can come here. Why can't I sleep here?"
Fang Wushen frowned, "No money! Even if I had, I wouldn't give it to you."
He held Bai Zhi'er's small hand, "Zhi'er, let's go; let's not argue with such a rascal."
But Bai Zhi'er still blinked her big curious eyes, looking at the beggar.
For some reason, faced with such clear and pure gaze, the beggar seemed a bit uncomfortable.
He quickly looked away, then placed his hands under his head, lying down on the mat again.
Lying down was fine, except that when the beggar moved, his already ill-fitting clothes rode up again.
His pale belly and navel were exposed once more.
