June came, and the summer heat steadily mounted.
That day, Zhang Xuansu appeared in the dazzling sunlight outside the Welcome Inn, dressed in a plain, immaculate hemp-cloth Daoist robe. With his white hair and beard, he looked every inch an aged immortal. He tilted his head to survey the entire inn, ripples stirring in his cloudy eyes, usually untroubled by the passage of ages.
Zhao Miao, who stood behind the counter clutching her iced sour plum soup, spotted him. She craned her neck and smiled kindly. "Old Daoist, if you're tired from walking, why not come in for a bowl of tea and rest your feet? It's free..."
Zhang Xuansu lowered his head, studied her for a few seconds, then slowly climbed the steps with a smile. "You are someone blessed with good fortune, lay devotee."
"May your kind words come true, old Daoist..."
Zhao Miao cheerfully stood and gestured toward an empty seat near the entrance. "Please, sit." Then she turned toward the rear courtyard and called, "Brother Erniu, bring a pot of tea!"
"Hold it!"
Yang Ge's voice cut off Zhang Erniu's answering call. He rose from the mahjong table and slowly approached, his brows knitted. With a stern face, he scolded Zhao Miao. "Haven't I taught you never to harbor a heart that harms others, but never to lack a heart that guards against them? Why are you inviting every dubious character into the inn?"
Zhao Miao shrank back and was about to protest, feeling wronged, when the old Daoist outside the counter laughed and chided, "You little rascal! Even if I weren't your senior by generation, I'd still be your senior in years. Don't you know to respect the old and cherish the young?"
Yang Ge narrowed his eyes. His expression hostile, he beckoned Zhao Miao