Chen Ping'an left the restaurant, a large crowd of people already following close behind him.
This banquet had been organized by Tian Fuliang, so it was naturally considered official business for the Garrison Commandant's Office.
"Lord Chen, it's windy outside. Would you like a cloak?"
Zeng Jihe was also trailing Chen Ping'an, cloak in hand. Zeng Jihe now served as Chen Ping'an's personal attendant, and he even had two men under his command.
When they were alone, he called him "Chief," but in front of others, he addressed him as "Lord Chen."
"No need."
Chen Ping'an waved his hand dismissively.
He was accomplished in the Martial Dao; a little chill from the wind was nothing to him.
"Yes."
Zeng Jihe replied respectfully.
Following behind Chen Ping'an and gazing at his back, a hint of fervent gratitude flickered in his eyes.
Just a few years ago, he, Xiaozeng, could never have imagined he would be where he was today.
