That night, Tianshui Gorge.
Moonlight like frost fell atop the canyon, illuminating the two silhouettes—one standing, one seated.
Zhu Hui'an was seated on a stone bench, his eyes half-open, before him a stone table. On it, a small stove held a copper kettle, which was currently steaming with boiling water.
"Ming Yuan, you may leave now."
Zhu Hui'an slowly opened his eyes and spoke indifferently.
Besides the kettle on the stone table, there was also a set of tea ware. Two tea cups were placed— one Zhu Hui'an's own, and the other quite evidently not belonging to the young man standing beside him.
The young scholar named "Ming Yuan" hesitated upon hearing this, his lips moving as if to speak but then stopping short. After a bow, he took his leave.
Zhu Hui'an, meanwhile, picked up the kettle and expertly prepared the tea, brewing one cup first before pressing his hand down on the table.
