"Take leave."
After the filthy deal was struck, Jiang Li did not stay any longer. His figure dematerialized, and with a gentle breeze, he vanished without a trace.
Yet Zhu Hui'an was still left standing in place beside the stone table, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the night sky.
After a long while, the teacup had gone completely cold, and at that moment, Zhu Hui'an took out a new teacup and slowly poured himself a cup of tea.
"What is your opinion on Jiang Li?" Zhu Hui'an seemed to be talking to himself.
"Young and successful yet completely without impetuousness, a person of profound depth."
A voice, indistinguishable in gender and utterly plain in tone, came through the wind, responding to Zhu Hui'an's inquiry.
"Yes, when this old man was under his pressure, expressing sincerity to him, he still remained impassive, inscrutable whether he was tempted or not," Zhu Hui'an sighed softly, "he's so deep and mature, almost like a thousand-year-old fox."
