Sipping his tea, Zheng Xiu listened to the story with great interest. As the sun began to set, the tale enriched his otherwise dull afternoon. Hearing this part of the story, he couldn't help but complain inwardly. He saw Chu Chengfeng's nostalgic expression, how he held his wine cup with eyes closed and brows furrowed, the very picture of a broken, world-weary man. 'This is so cliché,' Zheng Xiu thought.
But what came out of his mouth was: "Oh, what is this thing called love, that it drives men to such heartbreak? I wonder, Brother Chu, were you and Miss Wen ever able to resolve your differences?"
"Resolve our differences?" Chu Chengfeng scoffed. In the blink of an eye, he drained a second jar. "For years," he said coldly, "I was a hopeless drunk. I had no heart for practicing the sword and let my skills fall to ruin. Until the fifth spring… something happened."
