When He Guangming returned with the freshly brewed tea, Lizheng was already so exhausted that he had collapsed on the ground, unable to get up. His originally clean clothes were now stained with filth, and they gave off such a stench that it was unbearable to look at him.
Perhaps even more amusing was Lizheng's hair and face. His hair, which had been slicked back and shiny, now looked like a wild tangled mess, a spitting image of a bird's nest. And his face was smeared with suspiciously dirty substances.
In the face of Lizheng's dirty and disheveled appearance, He Guangming couldn't help but laugh quite inappropriately.
"Young Master, miss, please have some tea," said He Guangming, perhaps having grasped the intentions of the two. His attitude toward Lin Yuan and Xia Zheng had obviously improved when he served them tea, even considerately rinsing the cups with tea water.
