Although Feng Chenye had not said it outright, no one was a fool. They could all see that the woman in the painting was the one he loved.
Most of those in the restaurant were martial artists. Which of those who could afford to dine at the Listening Wind Tower was easy to deal with?
Every one of them had a heart colder than a blade!
Yet at that moment, they all felt their eyes mist over.
They believed in love again...
"Rest assured, Young Master Feng. If we meet this young lady, we'll be sure to let you know at once!" everyone promised loudly.
Feng Chenye bowed in thanks and said gratefully, "I sincerely thank you all for your generous help. My friend's name is Meng Yao!
"If I am fortunate enough to reunite with her, it will surely be thanks to the prayers everyone here has offered on my behalf!
"I won't disturb your enjoyment any further. Farewell!"
With that, Feng Chenye left the restaurant and walked down the street, holding a book and reading as he went, paying no attention to the strange looks from those around him.
He had now found his own way to cultivate.
Writing good works could stir literary qi.
Spreading good works, encouraging others to do good, and prompting people to think could likewise stir literary qi.
Once literary qi entered his body, it could be converted directly into cultivation.
Good writing required daily accumulation and inspiration, something that could be encountered but not sought. Spreading existing works, however, was relatively easier.
But obscure, difficult writing was like lofty spring music and pristine snow, appreciated by only a select few.
So he devised stories and wove his insights and ideals into them.
These stories for ordinary folk were lively and entertaining, quickly