"Want some?"
Tang Yu tapped his bowl with his chopsticks and asked with a smile.
The little Taoist had originally wanted to say no. It wasn't that he was too noble to accept charity; he was simply thin-skinned and embarrassed.
But he was far too hungry. After all, he had barely eaten for two days, surviving entirely on cold water and a few wild fruits he had picked up.
Tang Yu took the empty bowl he had just finished, poured half of the noodles into it, then handed his own bowl to the little Taoist.
"This bowl hasn't been touched yet. Eat up first. You look like a kid with a conscience too—I taught you how to make silver, but you wouldn't learn. Didn't the elders in your family teach you that those who heed advice will eat their fill?"
"No."
The little Taoist shook his head hard, then began wolfing down the noodles with his chopsticks.
Tang Yu leisurely poured himself a cup of wine, taking a sip of wine and a mouthful of noodles in turn. The alcohol content was low—nowhere close to the Maotai back home.
Seeing how desperately the little Taoist was eating, Tang Yu didn't tease him.
When he was alone with nothing to do, having a meal companion to chat with wasn't bad either.
After finishing the half bowl of noodles, the little Taoist was so moved he was nearly in tears. He poured himself a large bowl of tea and drained it in one gulp, then let out a loud, satisfied burp.
After that burp, he nearly crawled under the table. Lowering his head, he said softly, "How much were the noodles? I'll owe you for now. Once I make some money, I'll pay you back."
"When will 'once I make some money'