On June 28 of the third year of Xuanhua, a new teahouse called Youchaju opened in Xuanzhou City. The proprietress Gu Qianxi is holding a silver pot to welcome the guests, her eyes filled with the coldness of thousands of years of loneliness. Behind her are the bright and charming maid Tea Bowl and the heavy-backed attendant Cha Gai.
We don't take gold and silver here, but we take in the worldly obsession: a fool pawns his lifespan in exchange for life and death, a drunken soldier comes back to ask where his comrades are, and some even change their lives against the will of heaven just to pray for a snowfall...
There is a copper bell swaying in the corner of the eaves with tea, and the bloody contract soaked in tea is entangled in the fragrance of tea.
As long as you can afford the price, Youchaju can meet all your requirements. Until the handsome scholar in white asked for a cup of hot tea with a shameless face.
The soul-suppressing bell shattered with a bang, the harmony of Kunpeng echoed on the Beiming seaside, and the pagoda locked the god who had lost his memory.
Three thousand winds and moons, tea and wine are all false.
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The author likes you. I really like every story. Some of the stories are so sad that I feel sad. I hope the author will continue to publish books.
The author likes you. I really like every story. Some of the stories are so sad that I feel sad. I hope the author will continue to publish books.