Jishi Hall.
On the table were braised duck kidneys, spicy and sour shredded potatoes, brocade-clad softshell turtles, winter bamboo shoots and Magnolia blossoms, braised yellow croaker overflowing with fragrance—it could truly be said that color, aroma, and taste were all present.
Han Wenxin hung his head in despondency as he looked at the good food and drinks on the table, feeling inexplicably that they had suddenly lost their appeal.
His heart was kind-hearted.
He hoped that Zhou Xianming lived well, had wine to drink, dishes to eat, and brothels to visit.
But he did not wish for Zhou Xianming to live better than him, drink more fragrant wine than his, have more dishes on the table, or visit higher class brothels than him.
My friend made money, and I did not, which made me even more sad and upset.
Oh, such is human nature.
