Under the dim lights of the Night Market, Chen Jindong was so frightened that his three souls nearly scattered and his seven spirits fled his body.
Wasn't this Zheng Zhuxi's junior brother?
Wasn't he meditating in his room to regulate his breathing, leaving me only able to enter Zheng Zhuxi's dream?
When had he slipped out of the inn without a soul noticing, come to this noodle stall in the Night Market, and sat down opposite me?
Ding Songyan smiled slightly and said:
"So it really was you."
Chen Jindong's expression shifted subtly, his slightly horse-ear-shaped eyes displaying just the right amount of confusion:
"My friend, what do you mean by that?"
"There's something pretty sinister about you." Ding Songyan offered no explanation, merely an observation.
Chen Jindong frowned slightly:
"I don't quite understand what you're trying to say. Do you consider coming to the market at night for a bowl of noodle soup something sinister?"
"You're remarkably composed, my friend." Ding Songyan apologized with a smile. "I spoke out of turn."
"Then would you like a bowl of noodles? The broth is delicious and the noodles springy. Eat them, and you'll feel comfortable all over." Chen Jindong smiled.
Ding Songyan reined in his smile and looked at this favored prodigy of the Yellow Millet Sect, speaking thoughtfully:
"If wrongdoing leaves no trace unless you're caught in the act, does that mean a person can do evil without restraint?"
"That's mistaken," Chen Jindong declared righteously. "A gentleman watches his conduct even when alone. Others are easy to fool, but oneself is hard to deceive. Since we're walking the path of martial arts, it's best to keep a clear conscience."
"So Young Hero Chen has always had a clear conscience?" A hint of amusement entered Ding Songyan's eyes.
Chen Jindong nodded