In the room.
A blackwood table, a small red clay stove.
Steam puffs from the black ceramic kettle with a "gurgle," "gurgle."
The fragrance of tea fills the air.
"Has my wise nephew been well lately?" asked a middle-aged cultivator with a white, beardless face and a refined demeanor, sipping spiritual tea with a smile. "Have you encountered any difficulties in living and practicing cultivation?"
It was Lv Defang.
Wang Chen half sat on his chair, answering with sincere trepidation, "Thank you for your concern, Uncle. I am well."
This sudden visit from his nominal uncle hadn't been anticipated by Wang Chen.
But he did not panic.
He responded as the former him would have.
Although he could not imitate him perfectly.
People always grow up, after all.
