The South Wall Tavern had fallen into decline. People used to say, "You won't turn back until you've slammed into the South Wall." Now it had become, "Turn back the moment you glimpse the South Wall."
There were many reasons for the decline. The owner blamed the war, often grabbing the few remaining drinkers and saying, "Fighting, fighting, fighting—endless fighting. Who knows what they're even fighting over? They've made life miserable for everyone. It's so hard to get any good wine in here. I have a few jars of fine Central Plains wine that just arrived. Want some? It's a little more expensive than before, but..."
Those who still lingered at the South Wall Tavern were usually old customers. They had a different view of the tavern's decline and did not spare the owner's feelings. "The war affects everyone. Why are you the unluckiest of all? Because you're not Lu Qiying. Shopkeeper Lu was something else."
The conversation inevitably turned nostalgic. Shopkeeper Lu soon became a legendary figure in everyone's mouths. Although the new owner had taken over more than two years ago, he still could not erase the traces left by his predecessor.
One evening in early winter, heavy snow fell outside. Business at the tavern grew even colder, so the owner simply sent most of the workers home, leaving only two attendants and a cook to deal with seven drinkers.
The tall old man was the eighth drinker. After entering, he went straight to his usual seat. Once seated, he stared blankly at the lamplight on the table without saying a word.
"Old sir, what would you like to eat?" the attendant asked coldly. He was a newcomer who did not remember the tavern's former glory. He only felt that the tavern occupied a fair amount of space,