It was nearly noon, and Liu Changxu and his wife, Duan Yuwei, were leisurely sipping tea and chatting in the hall.
Suddenly, Zi Ling, a maid dressed in a pale purple silk gown, approached them with light, graceful steps. She dipped respectfully and reported in a soft voice:
"Masters, lunch is ready. Please come to the dining room."
A gentle smile curved Duan Yuwei's lips, and she nodded slightly.
"All right, I know. We'll be there shortly."
Then she turned toward her husband, Liu Changxu, her eyes filled with tenderness.
"Husband, let's go eat first!"
"Of course!"
Liu Changxu smiled broadly, his eyes brimming with affection.
As he spoke, he gently took Duan Yuwei's fair, delicate hand, its skin smooth and tender as jade. Together, they strolled toward the dining room along a corridor laid with sumptuous carpets.
The moment they entered the spacious, luxurious dining room, they saw a large table of mutton-fat jade, its lustrous white surface glowing softly. More than a hundred exquisite, tempting spirit cuisine dishes already covered it.
Every dish had been painstakingly arranged, like a beautiful work of art. Some had been carved into vivid flowers and birds, their petals delicately moist and their feathers lifelike; others combined precious spirit materials in a riot of colors and mouthwatering aromas.
Although Liu Changxu ordinarily knew how to enjoy life, even he was momentarily taken aback by this display. He did not seem to have indulged in such extravagance before.
Of course, on closer inspection, despite the abundance and variety of dishes on the jade table, not a single one was eighth-tier spirit cuisine that could benefit Liu Changxu's cultivation. They were all sixth- or seventh-tier dishes.
For Liu Changxu, these dishes could do nothing to aid his cultivation and served only to satisfy his palate.