The burly man at the other table told his tale in his own style, half storyteller and half narrator of his own experiences. Who knew how much wine he had gulped down? His face was red, but he simply would not get drunk. He kept the restaurant lively, and quite a few diners even ordered wine for him.
Later, Yi Shuyuan joined in, ordering a pot of wine especially for the man. The atmosphere stirred up by this blend of storytelling and personal experience gave him something he felt he could learn from.
Jiang Lang had actually tried several times to find an opportunity to discuss something with Yi Shuyuan, but whenever Yi Shuyuan looked at him, he swallowed his words.
The night gradually deepened, and the rain outside had eased considerably. The diners in Lakeview Tower left one after another. The potbellied man from earlier had long since slumped over his table and begun snoring; only his companions were still eating and drinking.
With a creak, the door to the private room in the corner opened. Its diners came out, exchanged a few words with a nearby waiter, then went downstairs to settle their bill at the counter.
The moment the party from the private room went thumping down the wooden stairs, the potbellied man who had been sleeping soundly opened his eyes. He deliberately kept snoring, however, while the others at his table exchanged glances.
A little while later, the potbellied man woke with a yawn and went downstairs with his friends to pay.
At the table by the window, Yi Shuyuan and Jiang Lang had little food left. Stoneborn stood on tiptoe while Hui Mian perched on the tabletop, both of them clearing away the remains.
"Looks like there's a story behind those two groups."
Jiang Lang