“The scars on these government-issued Embroidered Spring Blades are unique; you can tell at a glance that they were inflicted by the blade,” the scholar said, gently waving his fan.
“In all my years, I’ve never seen many people with scars like yours,” said a portly old man beside him, stroking his white beard.
"So he really is an old hero... We admire him!" the drunken man shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
"Back in the day, my brothers and I became outlaws, wanted by the authorities everywhere, and were eventually forced to hide in the mountains..." the scholar replied defiantly.
“Those days were unbearable…” the landlord sighed.
"We admire those who dare to stand up to corrupt officials!" The drunken man, slumped over the table, raised his glass again.
The old man's back did indeed have many deep red knife scars, densely packed and intricate, the shortest being as long as a hand. They looked very realistic, which I found a bit funny. This was too convincing. If he had really been injured by the Embroidered Spring Knife, would he have survived? With so many scars, I wonder which hospital this old man went to for plastic surgery.
It seems these guys are really too influenced by Jin Yong's novels, completely unable to separate reality from fiction. They really think of themselves as those ancient heroes who dared to fight against the government. The retro style of this inn has just welcomed these retro enthusiasts and provided them with a place to communicate.
At this moment, the waiter brought over the wine that had been warmed and filled my glass. Following behind, another waiter brought over several small dishes on porcelain plates. Judging from their color, they looked quite good. Wisps of steam swirled slowly over the dishes, making them look and smell delicious.
"Please enjoy your meal, sir. If you need anything else, please let us know." The waiter smiled warmly, his face still bearing that signature smile that had remained unchanged for centuries.
"You go ahead with your work, there's nothing I need right now," I waved my hand and said politely to him.
As the waiter was about to leave, I suddenly remembered something, so I called him back and said to him in a gentle and warm tone, "Come and have a few drinks with me. I also want to ask you about something." The waiter was a little surprised and couldn't believe that I was asking him to sit down and have a few drinks with me. Finally, after I persuaded him several times, he sat down, feeling flattered. He sat with his legs together, held the wine glass in both hands, smiled respectfully at me, nodded in acknowledgment, and then raised his head and drank it all in one gulp.
I wasn't really in the mood for food or drinks; I was more interested in listening to the old man next to me boasting about his skills. Through casual conversation with the waiter over drinks, I learned that the waiter's name was Liu Dongsheng. He used to be a gangster, and everyone respected him by calling him Brother Dong. He had since reformed and retired from the business. I also knew that the shop owner was a mysterious figure who rarely appeared in the shop, only showing up at the end of the year or when the old man came.
"Brother Dong, is this old man a regular at this inn?" I asked Brother Dong. Brother Dong's face was flushed, and he replied with a red face, "He comes here to drink a few times a year, at irregular times."
"Every year?" It seemed like this inn had been open for a very long time. I was a little surprised. How come I hadn't noticed? "How many years has this inn been open?" I asked in surprise.
"It's been around for a while now, but it only moved here from another place and opened its business in the last few years. I came here with it later." Brother Da Dong answered my question in a daze, without getting annoyed.
I got Da Dong drunk, and he was now slumped on the table, muttering to himself, "So many beautiful women are dancing in front of me. Look, this one is really pretty... this one has a great figure... this one has such a fair complexion..."
His drool was dripping onto the table, yet he still couldn't stop daydreaming, muttering lewdly to himself: "This girl is even smiling at me...hehe, come quickly into Uncle's arms...mmm...that dancer in the Rainbow Feather Dance is so beautiful, absolutely gorgeous! How wonderful it would be if I could marry her..."
At this moment, several drunk men at other tables were also walking around the inn with wine jugs, offering toasts. When they came over to toast me, I couldn't refuse, so I agreed. Before I knew it, I had forgotten how much I had drunk. My head was spinning, and suddenly everything went black.
I hurriedly patted my throbbing head, trying to clear my head. I shook my head vigorously, and my vision returned to normal, but my whole brain still felt swollen. My nose was itchy, and a drop of blood dripped onto my sleeve! I chuckled and sighed. It seems I really am getting old; it's been a long time since I've had a nosebleed. Looking around, everything seemed to be spinning. Then, my eyes grew tired, and everything went black again. "Thump..." My head slammed heavily onto the table again.
"Three thousand great paths, the mortal world refines the heart..." An old voice entered my ears.
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