As the saying went, someone else's dirt was just material for a laugh.
Chu Xingchen sipped his Spirit Wine little by little and began recounting some of Yuankong's embarrassing moments from years past. He also spoke of Yuankong's senior brother, Yuanjing, whose memory still brought a twinge of regret.
The cold wariness in Qian Qing's eyes slowly faded.
She had originally thought Chu Xingchen was a cultivator who threw his cultivation around, or took advantage of Yuankong's honest nature.
But in fact, the Chu Xingchen before her could practically be said to have watched Yuankong grow up.
Yuankong as a child had been much like the grown man he was now.
Throughout their idle conversation, Chu Xingchen never said what debt of gratitude Yuankong owed him. He spoke with great humor, put on no airs, and seemed to know where to draw the line when teasing Yuankong.
He did not seem like an immortal at all.
Yunxiao, on the other hand, looked every bit the immortal, holding a wine bottle and drinking alone as he gazed at the moon, neither joining in nor looking their way.
Yuankong was no longer the somewhat rash little śrāmaṇera he had once been. Now he could join the conversation with a fair amount of humor, and would find embarrassing stories about Qian Qing to tease her with as well.
The lingering moon gradually dimmed.
The wine bottles were silent.
Having finished a bottle, Qian Qing slowly slumped onto the table.
Chu Xingchen gave Qian Qing a couple of amused looks, then turned his gaze to Yuankong and gently raised his eyebrows.
Martial artists knew far too little about cultivators. Chu Xingchen did not even need to look to tell whether she was pretending to sleep. At this level, she could not even fool a