Chen Qun was truly a man of great bearing. From the moment he entered, he had not made a single breach of etiquette.
The order in which he saluted was flawless as well. He observed every courtesy: bowing to Liu Bei, making a half-bow to Wang Xuan, and clasping his hands to the others.
Everything was so perfect that no one could find the slightest fault.
Though it could not quite be called as refreshing as a spring breeze, his manners were impeccable, and he showed no one the slightest neglect.
Yet it was precisely this perfection that set him apart from everyone else present.
Bearing was something difficult to explain. No one present possessed Chen Qun's bearing. Even Pei Qian, Gan Ning, and Ju Shou, who came from respectable clans, did not have it.
Only Zhuge Liang could barely compare, but the gap was still obvious.
There was nothing to be done about it. Chen Qun's bearing had been passed down through his family for hundreds of years. That calm, unhurried confidence; that pride buried in his bones, never shown outwardly; that lofty air which did not make people dislike him; that effortless composure before grand occasions...
The graceful nobility revealed in every movement was not something a small household could cultivate. Ju Shou could not do it either, let alone Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, and the other fierce generals.
All right, Wang Xuan could not do it either... Of course, that was not important. Wang Xuan absolutely had not grown jealous and resentful simply because he lacked such breadth and grace.
As for the armrest of the chair that had accidentally been squeezed hard enough to leave fingerprints... Well, that had been a complete accident.
From the moment Chen Qun entered until now, he had made only three