Zhao Yu had spoken insolently, as if he didn't take Yan Shifan seriously at all.
In truth, he looked down on Yan Shifan.
Though Zhao Yu seemed crude and reckless, he was indeed the son of a military family, and his birth was no less distinguished than Yan Shifan's.
His father, Zhao Hong, was the commander of Great Yan's Right Garrison Army on the border.
As soon as the words fell, the air in the main hall seemed to freeze for a moment.
The scholars and literati all lowered their heads, pretending they hadn't heard a thing.
Someone quietly shifted away from the two tables. Even the maids hurrying through the corridors softened their steps, afraid of being dragged into the storm.
Yan Shifan's expression stiffened slightly, then returned to normal.
Zhao Yu's gaze quickly shifted from Yan Shifan to the four burly men standing behind him.
They were servants of the Yan household.
According to the rumors, when Yan Shifan was a child, he had once been abducted by kidnappers, who then extorted two thousand taels of gold from the Yan household.
Ever since, wherever Yan Shifan went, he brought several highly skilled bodyguards to ensure his safety.
Even when he came to a pleasure house like Yuren Workshop.
"Deputy Commander Zhao, why do you speak so crudely?"
Yan Shifan kept up his dignified airs, slowly speaking as he waved his folding fan.
"Speaking the truth is crude, too?"
Zhao Yu sneered.
"Do you not shit or piss, Officer Yan?"
He had reined himself in somewhat and didn't continue calling Yan Shifan a "little beast."
Although Zhao Yu had drunk quite a bit and his head was a little foggy, he was still more or less clearheaded.
He had practiced martial arts since childhood, but the four burly men