After He Yifan heard Zhiqiu's words, he didn't have much expression, just got up and motioned to go in and choose a few books. Of course, Zhiqiu was happy, and his mind was full of how to choose a few good books, which was a great opportunity for the three masters to ease the relationship.

Zhiqiu first thought about what book to recommend to him, but he suddenly remembered the book "Zi Yue Ji" in the corner.

Yan Yu'an was still lying lazily on the chair, holding a cup of slightly hot tea in his hand, drinking it one by one, but he felt that the taste was a little strange.

She looked down at the teacup, and a shadow was reflected in it.

The shadow, some old, some rickets.

People go, taste changes.

Yan Yu'an drank all the tea in front of him, but the taste was a little bitter.

He Yifan followed Zhiqiu into the small bookstore, and the pattern remained the same, just like a few months ago, but the third master habitually touched his pocket, and his face trembled slightly.

Zhiqiu led He Yifan to the inside of the room, which was also in the same corner, but it was different from the previous book describing the history of Nanchen, this "Zi Yue Ji" was exposed on the surface of the books, but no one cared about it.

Zhiqiu went to the corner, pointed to the book and said, "Three masters, this book is good, it suits you well." ”

He Yifan was stunned for a moment and asked, "You think I look like a scholar?"

Zhiqiu stared at He Yifan's whole body seriously, glanced up and down, and finally nodded heavily, and said, "That's natural! He paused and continued, "Otherwise, why would you come to the small bookstore to buy books??"

He Yifan thought about it and nodded.

Anyway, some people praise themselves, and their hearts are happy.

That day, Zhiqiu only accepted 300 silver from He Yifan, and the two of them went out of the courtyard of the small bookstore one after the other, both full of smiles.

Yan Yu'an really didn't know what they were happy about, but seeing the smiles on their faces, she missed the old shopkeeper a little less.

After all, the sadness has faded a little.

"Daughter, my father is going to Taihe Mountain, and I don't know when I will be able to come back, you take care of my closed disciple, don't save money on this, buy more meat, that guy has a long body, he has to eat meat." The rest is nothing, Xiao Zhiqiu is a little naughty, don't hit him, it's my closed disciple after all, and I can't chill other people's hearts. ”

"Dad, aren't you afraid that he will bully me?"

"It's a bit windy, I don't hear what you're saying. ”

"Dad, I said..."

"Okay, dad is gone, take care of Xiao Zhiqiu!"

Yan Yu'an seemed to be even more sad when he remembered the words of the old shopkeeper when he was leaving.

Who is biological?

-------------------------

In the southwest of the Yuanqing Empire, there is a small city, surrounded by mountains and rivers, with unique scenery. There are not many passers-by, but the town is very lively. In addition to the mountains and rivers, the biggest feature of the small town is the aroma of wine.

This small city is called Bailuan.

It is rumored that thousands of years ago, there was an immortal who rode north on a luan, and with a wave of dust, a city fell.

Only then did there be rumors of Bailuan City.

Bailuan City is actually not under the jurisdiction of the Yuanqing Empire, but it is precisely within the territory. There is only one master here: Wu Ding.

The samurai ruled in this city for three generations, went through the Spring and Autumn Period, and came to the era of Yuanqing's reign. But the latter still has no hostility towards Bailuan City, and it is even rumored that the first emperor went to Bailuan City to find the city lord at that time to drink before.

So when the emperor reigns now, Bailuan City is still a private territory. The shops in the city, large and small, must pay taxes to the lord every year, and the amount of money they hand over is divided according to the quality of the business of the shop.

In short, in Bailuan City, the martial arts family will not be forced to collect the silver from the store, and even if some shops lose some silver that year, they can not pay taxes.

A middle-aged Confucian man dressed in cyan long sleeves walked in the crowd, holding a pot of wine in his left hand and a book of poems in his right hand, but the poetry book did not have a cover, and the paper was a little yellowed.

The wine jug of the Confucian in Tsing Yi is not a traditional small gourd, but a square wine jug, which is not big, but looking at the way the Confucian drinks, they are all drinking in small sips, and such a small wine jug is fine.

But as he drank, the face of the Confucian in Tsing Yi slowly turned red, and he walked staggeringly, but the strange thing was that no matter how the Confucian swayed, his center of gravity would not be too tilted, as if someone was supporting him.

The Confucian man in Tsing Yi held the square wine jug high and sprinkled it vigorously, and after seeing that there was not a drop of wine, he seemed to be a little disbelieving, he turned the wine jug over and looked at it again, and finally sighed and shook his head, a little unsatisfied. He simply threw the flask on the side of the road, and walked out of the city in small steps.

But as he walked, the figure of the young Confucian began to become a blurred shadow, and the things around him flashed.

First walked through the restaurant, then walked through the city pass, and finally came to a small pavilion outside the city.

A monk in a robe sits down here, bowing his head and chanting the Dharma.

The voice was not loud or small, but it had just reached the ears of the Confucian scholar in Tsing Yi, who listened to these Dharmas, his expression was solemn, and the wine on his face slowly faded.

"Qinghu Qingyi drinking sake?" The monk stopped chanting and looked at the Confucian in Tsing Yi with a smile on his face.

The Confucian scholar looked dissatisfied, and replied angrily: "When will the wine and meat monk also say something about a scholar?"

The monk laughed, he touched his bald head, and said softly, "You want to practice today?"

The green clothes turned around and pouted: "Lao Tzu didn't bring a sword today." ”

"Why does Cao Zijian need to bring a sword?" I don't know when the monk took out a chicken leg from his pocket, but he didn't eat it.

"Can I beat you without a sword?" The Confucian man in Tsing Yi originally wanted to leave, but when he saw the chicken leg in the hand of the monk in front of him, he hesitated for a moment, and then sat down.

Today's first Taoist looked at the chicken leg, and the monk took the chicken leg and turned around like a Confucian just now.

But not long after turning around, the monk regretted it a little, because he smelled a burst of wine.

The monk had no choice but to turn around again, and he asked suspiciously, "Cao Zijian, didn't I just see that you don't have a wine jug on you?"

Cao Zijian looked around and made a "shh

The monk was confused, not understanding what tricks the scholar was playing in front of him.

Soon, the monk stared blankly at the square flask.

I saw a wine jug flying slowly from the city, moving unhurriedly, like an old man.

But, even more strangely, there was a constant flow of water in the city, which continued to drill into the jugs.

The monk swallowed a sip of water, and he smiled and said, "Zijian, how did you learn the skill of turning wine empty-handed?"

Cao Zijian looked at the monk on the side coldly, and said contemptuously: "Don't be foolish, what else can you learn besides eating chicken legs and drinking some wine?"

The monk replied lightly: "It seems that I am quite resistant to beating." ”

As he spoke, the little gourd finally flew to the side and stood in the center of the pavilion, holding its head high, not like it had just moved in the air.

The monk wanted to get the wine jug first, but was stopped by Cao Zijian. The latter looked at the monk's eyes, and there was no sense of relaxation in his eyes, so the scholar pushed a little harder, and he blocked the monk's hand, but he didn't know why the expression on the monk's face was still relaxed

Cao Zijian thought that he hadn't woken up yet, so he forcibly used the vitality in his body, and in an instant, the monk subconsciously took a few steps back.

Just when the monk also wanted to exert his strength, Cao Zijian suddenly stopped.

The monk suddenly became a little angry: "Cao Zijian!"

Cao Zijian blinked his eyes and smiled at the monk: "Come, old monk, sit down and eat." ”

When the monk heard the drink, his anger lightened a little, but his mouth was broken: "Why don't you hurry up and give me two sips?"

Cao Zijian smiled at the monk, and he said loudly: "Old monk, you don't know, this Bailuan City's wine is strong! ”

The monk's face was full of disbelief, and he just urged the scholar to bring the wine quickly.

Cao Zijian took advantage of the monk's distraction and sprinkled something into the wine jug. After sprinkling, the scholar hurriedly handed the flask to the monk.

The monk took the wine without any doubt, and without thinking about it, he took a big gulp.

There was no response for a few seconds at first, and the monk's expression was expressionless.

Finally, Cao Zijian laughed, and after a few seconds, the monk spit out the wine, still panting and coughing.

The monk caught a glimpse of Cao Zijian and wanted to come over and pat himself, so he quickly waved his hand and motioned for him not to come.

But it seems that Cao Zijian doesn't understand the interest, so he still walked over with a smile.

Interestingly, he also carried the flask in his hand.

"Old monk, does this wine taste good?" Cao Zijian said and took another sip.

When the monk heard this sound of drinking, he felt very uncomfortable, but his mouth felt astringent, and he couldn't speak.

Cao Zijian drank the wine jug in his hand, got up and said, "Let's go, old monk." ”

The monk still grabbed his throat and just waved his hand.

"By the way, did you win the last fight?" Cao Zijian suddenly remembered something.

After hearing this, the monk was stunned for a while, as if he had forgotten something, and he coughed and said, "What kind of fight? ”

Cao Zijian didn't know where to get a wine jug again, and took a sip of it.

The monks do not speak to Thaksin.

The monks don't fight, he really doesn't believe it.