"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 your courage to stand up to corrupt officials!" The drunken man, slumped over the table, raised his glass again.
The old man did indeed have many deep red knife scars on his back, densely packed and intricate, the shortest being as long as a hand. They were very realistic, almost comical. It was too convincing to be true. 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. This retro-style inn has just welcomed these retro enthusiasts and provided them with a place to communicate.
At this moment, the waiter brought over the warm wine and filled the cups. Following behind, another waiter brought over several small dishes on porcelain plates. Judging from their color, they looked quite appetizing, with wisps of steam slowly swirling around them, giving them a somewhat appealing appearance, aroma, and taste.
"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." She waved her hand and said politely to him.
As the waiter was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something and called out to him, saying gently, "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 he was being asked to sit down and have a few drinks with him. Finally, after being persuaded several times, he sat down, feeling flattered. He sat with his legs together, held the wine glass in both hands, smiled respectfully, nodded, and then drank it all in one gulp.
I wasn't really in the mood for food or drinks, but I listened with curiosity 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, and he used to be a gangster. Everyone gave him face and called him Brother Dong. Later, he turned over a new leaf and retired from the business. I also knew that the shop owner was a mysterious figure who rarely appeared in the shop, only at the end of the year or when the old man came.
"Brother Dong, is this old man a regular at this inn?" she asked, turning her gaze to Brother Dong. Brother Dong, his face flushed, replied, "He comes here a few times a year to drink, at irregular intervals."
"Every year?" It seemed like this inn had been open for a long time. I was a little surprised. How come I hadn't noticed? How many years has this inn been open? I asked in astonishment.
"It's been around for a while now, but we only moved here from another place to open the business in the last few years. We came here later too." Brother Da Dong answered the question in a daze, without getting annoyed.
Having been plied with alcohol, Da Dong was now slumped over the table, muttering to himself, "So many beautiful women dancing in front of me. Look, this one is really pretty... this one has such a great figure... this one has such a fair complexion..."
He was drooling so much that he had a puddle of erotic thoughts on the table, muttering to himself in a lewd way: "This girl is even smiling...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 to marry her..."
At this moment, several drunk men at other tables were also wandering around the inn with wine jugs, offering toasts. When they came over to offer toasts, it was hard to refuse, so they agreed. Before they knew it, they had forgotten how much they had drunk. Their heads were spinning, and suddenly everything went black.
He hurriedly patted his throbbing head, trying to clear his head. He shook his head vigorously, and his vision returned to normal, but his entire brain still felt swollen. His nose was itchy, and a drop of blood dripped onto his sleeve! He chuckled and sighed. It seemed he was really getting old; it had been a long time since he'd had a nosebleed. Looking around, everything seemed to be spinning. Then, his eyes grew tired, and everything went black again. "Thump..." His head slammed heavily onto the table once more.
"Three thousand great paths, tempering the heart in the mortal world..." An aged voice entered my ears.
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