"I don't want to eat anymore." Li Qingyun put down the chopsticks in his hand unhappily.

"If you don't want to eat it, give it to me." Zhao Qingshui took the bowl of noodles and poured it all into his own bowl.

That's great. Before he even touched the fried egg in the bowl, Zhao Qingshui ate it in two bites. He glanced at Li Qingyun silently. He had lived a good life for too long and couldn't even get used to eating noodles made from white flour.

"Qingyun, is it not to your liking? Do you want to eat something else?" Zhao Xiaojuan was not as stunned as Zhao Qingshui. She could clearly see that Li Qingyun was worried about something.

Li Qingyun shook his head. "I won't eat anymore. You guys eat first. After you finish eating, go and be obedient."

He didn't want to return to the country so early. Li Heng also had a place to go, and he also had one.

After the meal, Li Qingyun took the initiative to pay for their noodles.

Zhao Qingshui, with her bulging belly, brought Zhao Xiaojuan and Li Qingyun to a small restaurant called "Qingfeng Teahouse".

There is a wooden sign hanging on the lintel. It is slightly mottled after years of wear and tear, but the four big characters "Qingfeng Tea House" are still vigorous and powerful. It seems that this teahouse has some history.

Walking into the teahouse, it was bustling with people, some talking loudly, some whispering, their voices intertwined.

The waiters in the teahouse shuttled among the tea drinkers, holding teapots and walking hurriedly. They skillfully poured tea and refilled water for the tea drinkers and chatted with them from time to time.

The air is filled with a faint scent of tea, which is intertwined with the smell of charcoal smoke and the guests' sweat, creating a unique atmosphere.

Li Qingyun frowned. This smell made him feel nauseous, but Zhao Qingshui and Zhao Xiaojuan were obviously used to this smell.

They came to a corner of the teahouse as if they were in a familiar place, and after they sat down, the waiter came forward to greet them.

"You two, as usual?"

The waiter kept looking at Li Qingyun. This man was dressed elegantly and it was obvious that he was not someone who came to a small teahouse like theirs.

"No, bring me a pot of your best tea." Zhao Xiaojuan knew that Li Qingyun was rich now, and he might not be used to drinking ordinary tea.

Anyway, he was the one who paid the money, so I might as well get some benefit from it.

“Okay…” the waiter responded loudly, wiped the table with a rag, and left quickly.

Soon, the waiter brought them a pot of tea and three cups, poured them personally, and handed them to each person.

On a high platform at the front of the teahouse, a storyteller in a green shirt sat upright, holding a yellowed ancient book in his hands, with a hint of fatigue in his eyes.

As the Tea Doctor shouted, "Dear guests, today let's talk about the turbulent past events in the martial arts world." The teahouse suddenly became quiet, and everyone's eyes were focused on the storyteller.

The storyteller coughed lightly, cleared his throat, and began to tell the story: "It is said that a hundred years ago, there was a knight in the martial arts world. He was highly skilled in martial arts and was known as the 'Sword Immortal'..."

As his voice rises and falls, the image of the hero in the story gradually emerges in the minds of the audience.

The atmosphere in the teahouse also fluctuates, sometimes exciting and sometimes relaxed and humorous.

Whenever he comes to a wonderful part, the storyteller will deliberately pause for a moment to let the audience savor the story.

At this moment, the teahouse seems to no longer be a simple place to drink tea and chat, but has turned into a world of rivers and lakes full of fantasy.

The tea drinkers either rest their chins in deep thought, or laugh heartily, or frown; their emotions fluctuate as the story develops.

Li Qingyun also listened with great interest. This was his first time listening to a lecture. Unexpectedly, he was fascinated by it as soon as he heard it.