His precious disciple had been forced to leave by four young women, and several months passed in the blink of an eye.
During those days, the four women—Dongfang Mingyue and the others—came and went, then came and went again, all to block Wang Xian whenever he suddenly returned home to visit his master.
Old Zhang had grown used to such days. It was not bad. Whenever he felt lonely, there was someone to chat with and share a cup of tea.
But as time passed, even the four young women's patience could not endure it.
As a result, one after another, they vanished without a trace.
So the old man would occasionally mutter about why his precious disciple still had not bought back a jar of fine wine.
That day, the old man caught a fish, cleaned it, and hung it beneath the eaves to drain. He planned to make vinegar fish later as an appetizer.
An old tree stood outside the courtyard, with a swing hanging from it.
The swing swayed in the breeze.
A girl in red seemed to be dozing on it, rocking back and forth as though a gust of wind might send her tumbling from the tall tree.
The old man called out from the courtyard, warning her to be careful, but the girl did not hear him at all.
His heart in his throat, the old man could not help reaching out and pulling the girl back into the courtyard to drink with him.
His disciple was not around, and it was not easy to find a girl willing to drink with him. How could he just watch her fall to her death?
Seeing that the girl was becoming even lazier, the old man simply closed his eyes and muttered to himself, "This old