Listening to Chen Ping'an defend himself—even going so far as to smear his own teacher—Ning Yao said nothing. Chen Ping'an moved to another bench and sat beside her. She looked angrier still and shifted away rather than sit close to him. He did not press his luck, and stayed where he was, drinking in silence.
In love between men and women, what did it mean to be charming but fickle? It was having only one jar of sincere wine, yet insisting on sharing it with everyone one met.
And what was deep devotion? It was burying that jar of wine in the depths of one's heart, then one day drinking it alone to the last drop. How could one not get drunk?
Chen Ping'an held his wine flask in one hand and quietly set the other on the bench between them. Like a crab scuttling sideways, it crept toward Ning Yao.
Just as he was about to succeed, Ning Yao suddenly punched the back of his hand. She hit hard. The pain made Chen Ping'an sink his qi to his dantian and let out a soft cry. Once she withdrew her fist, he hurriedly lifted his hand and rubbed it against his chin.
After a moment of silence, Ning Yao asked, "You seem to have changed your opinion of Song Jixin?"
Earlier in the courtyard, Chen Ping'an had talked about this longtime neighbor from his youth. His words had been cutting, but his assessment had actually been decent.
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Leaving the big things aside—and Song Jixin has done plenty of those—I'll tell you about one small thing."
Song Jixin of Mud Bottle Alley had become Great Li Prince Song Mu. He had commanded from Old Dragon City, a peak in the southern mountains, and the Secondary Capital by