At the City Gates

"What's wrong, did I scare you?" Song Qingshu smiled when he saw Huang Rong had remained silent.

"I was indeed a little surprised." Huang Rong gathered her thoughts, absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, picked up a teacup from the table, and handed one to Song Qingshu. "This is also the hope of all Han Chinese. I shall use tea in place of wine to wish you immediate success."

Looking at the pale, delicate hand holding the teacup before him, Song Qingshu was briefly distracted before smiling. "I must drink the tea Rong'er offers me, but we should change the way we drink it."

"How?" Huang Rong froze.

"Like this." Song Qingshu passed the hand holding his teacup beneath her forearm, then brought it back before himself.

Huang Rong's snow-white cheeks instantly flushed crimson. Somewhat flustered, she said, "Stop fooling around. This... this is how one drinks the nuptial wine."

Song Qingshu shrugged and looked at the cup before him. "Is this wine? It seems to be tea."

Huang Rong paused, then nodded unconsciously.

"Since it isn't wine, how can it count as nuptial wine?" Song Qingshu smiled, drained the tea in one gulp, and gazed intently at her exquisite, porcelain-like face. "Rong'er, you offered me tea but won't drink any yourself. Could it be that you don't wish for the expulsion of the invaders and the restoration of China to succeed?"

"Of course not!" Huang Rong was both angry and anxious. "You... are those even the same thing?"

Song Qingshu's expression turned solemn. "Of course they're the same thing. In my view, if you don't drink this tea, it may be an omen from Heaven that this cause is destined to fail."

"I once thought myself quite silver-tongued, but compared to you, I truly feel inferior."