Half an hour later.
They arrived at the "Autumn Palace."
Zheng Lin, the owner, had been waiting for a long time and personally greeted them at the door. Early in the morning, his wife and children had gone to Chai Ren's house; visiting was an essential "skill" for wealthy families.
Inside the tea room.
Several people sat down.
A quite attractive waitress quickly served tea, casting a furtive glance at Tang Qing: so handsome. These were the owner's distinguished guests—she dared not linger, especially since the woman Tang Qing was embracing was far more beautiful than she.
"What would you like for lunch?" Zheng Lin asked.
Tang Qing took a sip of his tea, "Whistle noodles, there's nothing else good to eat."
If someone else had said it,
Zheng Lin would have scoffed: showing off.
But when Tang Qing said it, he agreed.
"Alright, as you wish. Speaking of whistle noodles, it reminds me of your cook," Zheng Lin wiped the corner of his mouth.
Damn it.
So embarrassing.
