The autumn wind was severe, the color of old Chinese parasol trees.
Under the parasol tree, there was a wine shop, not very large, but very clean.
The wine was sold by an old man, and it was not any fine wine, just some turbid wine brewed at home, but it prevailed because it was good and cheap, and usually, business was quite good.
But today, the old man had brought out some aged brew that even he hesitated to drink, to serve the guests.
Of course, although the old wine seller was generous, he was no fool, for the pair of young man and woman drinking there truly exuded an extraordinary demeanor, clearly from a family of great affluence and status.
One, he always felt that serving such distinguished guests with inferior wine left a sour taste, and two, he feared his wine might offend and cause unnecessary trouble.
Even so, the old man was still somewhat nervous.
After all, he knew best about his own affairs, and good turbid wine was still just turbid wine.
