"Ma Hongjun. I didn't expect you to get even worse after all these years."
His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet it made the clamor filling the room fall abruptly silent.
Everyone's eyes turned toward the doorway as if by tacit agreement.
Li Qinglian leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a clean, crisp white robe embroidered with gold patterns. A jade belt cinched his waist, his wide sleeves hung down, and he held a green longsword across his chest. A sheen as faint as moonlight flowed over its scabbard.
His features were handsome and refined. The childishness from two years ago had faded from his brow and eyes, leaving contours as sharply defined as if carved by a blade, a tall, elegant nose, and a clean, distinct jawline.
His long black-and-white hair was tied casually behind his head, while a few stray locks fell beside his cheeks, lifted lightly by the breeze at the tavern entrance. It made him seem both spirited like a youth and somewhat otherworldly, untouched by dust.
If not for the faintly discernible sharp Sword Intent emanating from the sword in his arms, anyone who saw him might truly have mistaken him for some noble young master who had run away from home.
"Brother Qinglian. It's you."
"Brother Qinglian! It's you!"
The moment Ning Rongrong heard that voice, it sounded familiar. When she looked up and saw that figure, her large eyes lit up at once.
Lifting the hem of her skirt, she trotted past several tables and chairs straight to Li Qinglian, then tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes sparkling with unconcealable joy.
"It's Rongrong. We haven't met for two years, and you've grown prettier and prettier."
Girls really did change as they grew up; Li Qinglian had a deep