After the funeral of Old Master Lu, Lu Xingye, a man of much interest, once again led a life shrouded in mystery, like a dragon seen in head but not in tail.
Those eager to fawn upon him queued up, only to be met with disappointment.
It was a cloudy weekend.
In the military, Yan Qi received an urgent message from Lu Xingye and immediately took leave after the exercises to meet the appointment.
The location was Jun Zailai Tea House.
Inside the private room, tea aroma wafted through the air. Lu Xingye, dressed in a white changshan, sat cross-legged on the couch, pouring tea from a delicate purple clay teapot into a cup.
The scene bore a resemblance to an ancient scholar's indulgence in a tea-tasting poetic retreat, elevated by his good looks from a three-part charm to a seven-part elegance.
Unfortunately, Yan Qi was a rough man of military bearing, with no appreciation for such refined atmospherics.
