Sore Mouth

Liu Jinyou's embarrassment did not last long. Cheng Jianjun, who had met Old Guan before, came over with a cheap grin on his face, swaying as he walked. He sat down beside Wang Yan. "Lord Wang, it's been five years, hasn't it? You're still as spirited as ever. Unlike me—I spent four years in prison, and after getting out, I've been running all over the place without a moment to rest. I only managed to make time today because Master Guan is celebrating his birthday. Otherwise, I would've come to pay my respects long ago. To be honest, I've been wanting to see you all these years."

Wang Yan gave him a sidelong glance and spoke blandly. "It's Master Tidu's birthday today. Beating you up would look bad. I'll give you one chance. Get out of my sight."

Cheng Jianjun froze for a moment, then forced out an awkward laugh. "Lord Wang really is young at heart, still trying to scare me. We're almost forty—how can we act like street punks?"

Wang Yan had no interest in wasting words on some verbal sparring with Cheng Jianjun. He merely turned and looked at him coldly. "Get lost."

The dead indifference in his gaze, as though he were looking at pigs and dogs—a gaze forged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood—made Cheng Jianjun shudder. Still, he remembered to save face. He forced a smile, rose to his feet, and said, "All right, Lord Wang. Everyone, I won't disturb you any longer. We'll chat again if there's a chance."

With that, he hurriedly turned and left. He found a table full of neighbors and acquaintances nearby and sat down, barely managing to deal with them as he tried to ease the tremendous humiliation Wang Yan had just inflicted on him.

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