The alley of the old brush shop also has a back door. In the past few months, it has not worked until now. Ning Que lay on the bamboo chair, took the wet towel handed to him by Sang Sang, sighed and rubbed his naked upper body. Listening to the quarrel on the nearby bamboo bed, he felt that the small town life written by the scholar was indeed not fun.

Because he was bored, Ning Que stood up sullenly, said hello to the neighbor next to him, put the wet towel on his shoulder and left. Sangsang struggled to follow him, carrying a bucket in one hand and a bamboo chair in the other.

The handmaid was wearing a thin blue shirt today, her little arms and legs were bare, and her face was red. While she doesn't usually sweat due to lack of cold syndrome, that doesn't mean she can't feel the extreme heat in the air. On the contrary, it will make her feel even more suffocated. Looking at Ning Que by the well, she asked, "Young Master, can I take off my coat?"

Ning Que had just gotten a bucket of cool water from the well and was going to pour it on his head. When he heard this, he was even more annoyed, and reprimanded her without looking back. "You may be young, but you're still a girl. You should not undress in front of men. You're not yet three or four years old, and I can help you rub or bathe. You are already a young woman, please note this.

Sang Sang stared at Ning Que irritably, and replied, "Young Master, you haven't answered my previous question yet!" Is revenge that interesting? Even if you kill someone every few days, you won't get tired of it.

"This murderous business has nothing to do with profit."

Ning Que replied: "Now we eat leftovers every day and go to the toilet to. Isn't it repetitive and boring? Anyway, you have to do these things because if you don't eat food, you're going to starve, and if you don't poop, you're going to die too. As for the killing, we have no choice but to finish it for the sake of a calmer life, even if it is boring.

With that, he raised his hand to hold the bucket and turned it over. The whole bucket of cool well water splashed on his body with a "whoosh" and then flowed on the stone floor of the courtyard. Ning Que quickly felt refreshed, but his lower body also felt a little colder. He lowered his head in confusion and found that his cotton shorts had been pushed away by the well water for some distance.

Sangsang let out a rare giggle as he looked at his half-naked ass and the belt tightly wrapped around his ass, and couldn't hide his happiness and covered his lips with his hands.

Ning Que hurriedly pulled up his shorts, then turned around and scolded angrily. "What are you looking at? After all, killing people is more fun than this kind of thing.

Sang Sang put down his hand and looked at Ning Que. She replied cautiously, "I'll make a bowl of fat sausage noodles later."

...

...

In the summer of Chang'an, the time before dawn is both the darkest and the coolest. Due to the long hot nights, residents who had to sleep on the streets and relied on the wind in the alleys returned to their houses. They want to get the most wonderful and comfortable sleep in this short cool time, hoping to make up for the lost time during the day.

No one slept in the old brush shop.

Sangsang cooked a bowl of sweet noodles, accompanied by soup and plenty of leeks, as well as six or seven fatty intestines and two large intestines.

After eating, Ning Que rubbed his mouth, put on an ordinary but shabby shirt, put on a brand new but ordinary hat, covered most of his face with a mask, and then wrapped his beanie and a large black umbrella. Later, he pushed open the back door of the courtyard, said goodbye to Sangsang and walked into the dark night.

Ning Que walked through the quiet streets and alleys of Dongcheng, accompanied by the cool night breeze. Both tired people and vigilant dogs sleep soundly. It was as if the whole city had fallen into a deep sleep. Only the occasional sound of a water truck pressing against a stone slab suddenly appeared, but it soon faded away.

The faint lantern lights flickered to illuminate the road in front of the carriage.

When the water truck passed through a corner of the street in the downtown area of Nancheng, Ning Que, who had been silently squatting in the gap of the big bucket, jumped down quietly and landed at his feet. He quickly ran into the dark alley. Then, he took out a hand-drawn map made by Sangsang and took one last look in the dim light.

It's no wonder Sangsang is confused. Ning Que's plan to kill a person on a regular basis was completely inconsistent with the peaceful, hard, but happy life in the academy, and it was also incompatible with the carefree but boring urban life on Lin 47th Street. What's more, the repetitive killings are really quite boring. However, for Ning Que, who returned to Chang'an from Wei City, enjoying fat intestines or fire egg noodles and then killing people for revenge, just like meditating for a few hours after practicing calligraphy, was already a very important part of his life, and even a habit of life.

Every time he killed an enemy and wiped a name off the revenge list, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten and a hint of relief. Moreover, the thick blood on his hands will be a little thinner. Everyone instinctively expects an easy and happy life, so his instinct pushes him to continue his revenge plan.

The preparation of his pods, wrapping paper, mask, coat, hat, map, and even the target's schedule and habits was done by Sang-sang. A black-faced little maid walking around the alleys of Chang'an barely attracted the attention of others. Ning Que was not worried about her safety. But most of all, he believed in her abilities.

Therefore, it never occurred to him that when he was about to pull out his pod, his blade would not be able to cut off the target's head. He had already used that person as a sacrifice to General Xuanwei's mansion and the village, and at the same time, under the cover of night, he silently walked into the streets of the city center, and went straight to the lake behind the teahouse.

Today, he will erase the third name from the list.

The owner of the avatar is Yan Suqing, 41 years old, a former military cleric appraiser.

The man is good at tea culture and seal verification. After being expelled from the military under the pretext of the imperial court, he was specially hired as a tea expert by a well-known tea merchant. According to Zhuo Er's research, the ironclad evidence of General Xuanwei's treason—three works—was personally confirmed by him, and may even have been forged by himself.

What's more, the relationship between this person and the village murder case on the border of Yan Country is unclear and extremely hazy. In that year, General Xiahou's army had already attacked the Yan State. Yan Suqing was in the army of General Xiahou, and the army failed to reach the Minshan border on time. It's curious why there is a military cleric appraiser on a bloody battlefield.

Currently, Yan Suqing lives in a small lakeside house bought for him by a tea merchant. Ning Que walked quietly along the lake, and when he saw the quiet house closer to the lake, and saw the seemingly irregular but picturesque bamboo wall and grass house, he suddenly felt that something was wrong. His eyebrows outside his mask slowly raised.

In a word, the little house by the lake is so peaceful and beautiful.

Settling in Chang'an is very difficult. Every inch of land in Chang'an is worth gold. In the hustle and bustle of the whole city, the words "peace" and "beauty" mean noble and even powerful. Although Ning Que knew that Yan Suqing was highly trusted and appreciated by tea merchants, he also thought that it was impossible for a tea merchant to give such a small house by the lake to a tea expert, even if the merchant was very rich and generous.

The dawn has not yet arrived, so the view of the lake is still dark. Only the reflection of someone's house can be seen on the ripples, as if showing a little bit of isolated light. Ning Que walked to the front of the small house by the lake. Through the alienated bamboo wall, he looked at the large stone chair under the stone steps of the courtyard and the thin middle-aged man on the chair. After a brief pause, he pushed open the door and walked inside.

A small oil lamp lit up. The thin middle-aged man sat on a stone chair, holding a large, rough dirt teacup in his left hand and gently tapping the corner of the ebony coffee table with his right hand. He looked at the young man calmly, and a grim smile suddenly appeared on his thin face, and then whispered.

"The so-called tea ceremony in tea culture is nothing more than a complex and repetitive procedure to reinforce the sense of ritual and thus bring a sense of dignity."

"Many people think that when I drink tea at home, I will burn incense, take a bath, worship Haotian for a long time, wash the cup for a while, and then bring the tea to my mouth. In fact, I've always liked to drink tea in a big cup. Perhaps this habit was formed in the army. I prefer a more straightforward way of dealing with things.

"It was a hot summer night. Instead of sleeping at home, choose to take a stroll by the lake. You... Must have come to kill me.