On the back of a Gu Diao as flat as the ground, an old man with a red nose was leaning on one hand,
and holding a wine-stained gourd in the other, his head tilted at a forty-five-degree angle
as he sat cross-legged, his breath smelled of alcohol, impervious to the wind and snow.
"General Chen, why stand there, when the journey of eight thousand miles of frost is still far ahead? Come, have a drink!"
The Dragon Breeding Clan's Old Man Dong called out to him.
Behind him stood a silver-haired girl, her back turned, her hair fluttering, creating a scene of its own, her thoughts unknown.
Chen Yuan turned around, his gaze flickering. He leaped off the Gu Diao's head and landed near the old man,
sweeping his hand to arrange tables, chairs, stools, wine, and pastries, all appearing in abundance before
he took a seat, glancing towards the girl named Cun Xin.
"What's with her?"
