Jianghu, bloody storm...
"I really shouldn't have disturbed the young lady's enjoyment. But the piano and flute ensemble made me forget everything. It was so mesmerizing."
"I'm not good at learning, so I'm making fun of you." A voice as clear as water came from the misty purple gauze, and Mo Yue raised her head.
"Dare you ask Mr. Gao's name?"
"Gong Yihong." When he met Mo Yue's gray eyes, he was immersed in this gray vortex.
"Gong Yihong..." Mo Yue said half-jokingly, "Maybe he is from the Gong family in Jianghu, right?" There was a smile on his mouth, but there was no smile in his eyes. He looked directly at Gong Yihong with cold eyes, watching Gong Yihong's reaction sharply.
"Yes, that's not bad." Gong Yihong looked at her playfully and followed Mo Yue's half-joking reply.
The aroma of Biluochun continued to float out of the purple clay pot, then dissipated, lingering on the tip of Gong Yihong's nose like mist. The enigmatic master and servant, the enigmatic deep inner strength, and the charming and rare pair of gray eyes are really interesting.