"True Person Xiao's Confucian cultivation is indeed extraordinary!" Zhu Cheng said with a smile as he set down his teacup. "Our Zhu family's Mingxin Tea may be fine, but without someone like you, who so deeply understands the true essence of Confucian cultivation, how could its flavor be tasted?"
Xiao Hua waved a hand. "Fellow Immortal Zhu flatters me. This Xiao merely had an occasional insight; it amounts to nothing. Compared with great families such as yours, whose inheritances stretch back through the ages, I fall far short."
"Alas, how can the Zhu family still be called a Confucian cultivator family?" Zhu Cheng shook his head with a bitter smile. Then, as though recalling something, he rose and respectfully said, "True Person Xiao, please come this way!"
"Oh?" Xiao Hua was slightly startled. He rose along with Zhu Cheng and entered the hall next door. This too was a reception hall, though somewhat smaller than the previous one. It was even plainer, containing only an incense table. On the wall behind it, in the same position as in the main hall but hung slightly lower, was another portrait. It depicted Xiao Hua standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
The Xiao Hua in the painting was lifelike, his eyes brimming with resolve and compassion. Even his Taoist robe was the one he had worn when he rescued Zhu Cheng that day. The moment Xiao Hua saw it, he understood what Zhu Cheng intended.
Sure enough, Zhu Cheng took out an old vermilion-backed chair and respectfully placed it before the incense table. In a soft voice, he said, "Benefactor, our earlier formal greetings were to welcome you. Now, I ask you to take the seat of honor, so that my clansmen may thank you for the grace of giving us