Brotherhood Returns
As the midday sun slanted across the threshold of the Hundred Birds Gang, three familiar figures shattered the silence of the courtyard.
"Clang—"
Old Lin's bulging bundle on his shoulder kicked up a cloud of dust, startling Gou Dan so much that he jumped up from the eldest brother's head.
The colorful headgear was hanging askew on one ear, the eldest brother's mouth was open, and the chicken teaser in his hand fell to the ground with a "thud".
"Oh, so you finally decided to come back?"
Zui Qingfeng twirled his pipe between his fingers, sending sparks flying onto the wine jar that Lao Ba was carrying.
"Western Region strong liquor? Looks like they're preparing to apologize."
Chenze's sword tassel "whoosh" wrapped around the scrolls in Lao Qing's arms, and with a flick of his hand, he rolled them all up to him.
"A fragment of the Sword Manual?" His cold, stern expression finally softened slightly. "At least you have some conscience."
He haphazardly wiped his flour-covered hands on his apron while frying fish, and dumpling wrappers dangled from his fingertips.
"Brother Lin! Brother Ba! Brother Qing!"
He stumbled over the three names, and then threw himself onto Old Lin's back, getting his shirt covered in white powder.
Old Lin chuckled as he untied the bundle, revealing ginseng and poria cocos scattered all over the table, with a package of candied fruit wrapped in oil paper at the very bottom.
Passing through Lin'an, I thought of a certain glutton...
Don't give me that!
The eldest brother snatched the candied fruit, but his eyes reddened.
"Two months! Not even a single carrier pigeon!"
The colorful tassels on the headgear rustled as it moved, making it look just like a peacock with its feathers standing on end.
As dusk painted the eaves red, an eight-immortal table was already set up in the courtyard.
Old Ba slapped open the mud seal on the wine jar, and the strong aroma of the wine startled the sparrows on the treetops, causing them to flutter away.
Dog Egg leaped onto the edge of the table, its beak piercing precisely into Zui Qingfeng's wine glass.
"Cough cough cough!"
The bald chicken was so spicy it spun around in place, its tail feathers sweeping over a plate of peanuts.
"Murder...!"
With a flick of his sword sheath, Chen Ze caught the porcelain plate that was about to fall to the ground, and casually stuffed a hangover pill into the chicken's beak.
The eldest brother took the opportunity to steal the last piece of braised pork, but his chopsticks were pressed down by Zui Qingfeng's pipe.
"A penalty drink."
The owner of the pipe raised an eyebrow.
Seeing that there was no way to escape, the eldest brother rolled his eyes.
"Fried fish instead of water!"
"Why should I!"
The little girl jumped up, and the half-eaten chicken leg in her hand "accidentally" fell into the eldest son's bowl.
Amidst the laughter of the crowd, Shiyun's zither music drifted from under the eaves, and Xijiang was adding hot water to his teacup for the third time.
The copy of "Guangling San" was always laid out on the zither table.
The roof tiles rattled.
When Lao Ba climbed up carrying the wine jug, Lao Lin was already lying in a spread-eagle position.
"Our stars are still the brightest."
He squinted, letting the evening breeze carry the smell of alcohol onto his clothes.
Old Qing sat cross-legged on the roof ridge, a chess manual spread out on his knees, moonlight streaming across the pages like a silver river.
In the courtyard below, the silhouettes of Zui Qingfeng and Chen Ze were reflected on the window paper.
One was rolling tobacco, the other was wiping a sword.
Dog Egg nestled on the knee of the fried fish, snoring away, his bald head slowly slumping onto the pastries.
"Hey." Lao Ba suddenly nudged Lao Lin.
"Look at the boss."
A colorful figure tiptoed toward the kitchen, carrying something bulging in its arms.
As the moonlight brushed past his sleeve, half of a bag of candied fruit was revealed—the very bag he had intended to distribute to everyone during the day.
Old Lin laughed as he tossed the wine jug into the air, the amber-colored liquid tracing a shimmering arc.
"Respectfully yours, sir..."
A crisp clinking of glasses echoed from beneath the tiles.
Zui Qingfeng had appeared in the courtyard at some point, his pipe raised towards the moonlight.
Chen Ze's sword sheath clanged as it met the attack, startling a crow that had been perched on a tree.
"A toast to this damned place."
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