The proprietor of the Gathering Immortals Restaurant was an old fox who had spent decades clawing his way through every walk of life.
Chen Xiaochan's bearing and physique were certainly not things a roadside beggar could develop.
Could she be some fallen family's young lady?
Or the descendant of an official who had offended the powerful and had his household confiscated and exiled?
In business, nothing was more frightening than inviting trouble one should never have touched.
The proprietor narrowed his eyes and asked cautiously, "Little girl, who's your father?"
"You talk too much." Chen Xiaochan did not even raise her eyelids, tossing out the words crisply and coldly, with no intention of revealing her background.
Rebuffed so quietly, the proprietor's aging face stiffened. But mindful of the official's son watching the show beside him, he gave a cold snort and tilted his head at the waiter behind him.
Looking thoroughly reluctant, the waiter ran to the counter, grabbed a brush normally used for bookkeeping, and carried a cheap inkstone behind the screen, where he set them on the table.
Chen Xiaochan said nothing.
She stepped forward, took the brush handle from the waiter, and flicked her wrist deftly, sending the brush spinning through the air in a gentle toss.
Its tip pointed downward, striking the edge of the inkstone with perfect precision.
With the deft force of that tap, the tip skimmed the ink's surface like a dragonfly touching water, picking up just the right amount of rich black ink.
Then Chen Xiaochan casually reached out and caught the brush firmly in her palm.
The entire sequence flowed like drifting clouds and running water, effortlessly graceful.
There was not a trace of magic power involved, only a deft wrist and a precise eye.
The official's son's eyes lit up