"No, Second Senior Brother, you shouldn't even need to go to these lengths to win over a rich lady,"
Jiang Lu looked Hong Lie up and down.
Though indulgence had worn away the gentle refinement of the scholars from Yunzhou City's Academia of Debauchery, leaving behind a worldly air beneath the veneer of debonair weakness, he was still the Second Senior Brother of the academy, unimpeachable in appearance.
Then considering the painting he had produced in the final competition, his talent was such that most scholar-artists couldn't hold a candle to him.
With these attributes, he still needed to curry favor with rich matrons, and what's more, he was here to take part in the selection for devotees?
It just didn't make sense.
"This is where you're clueless,"
Hong Lie seized the rare opportunity to exercise his authority as a senior, gearing up to enlighten Jiang Lu on the psyche of rich matrons:
"First answer me, brother, what defines a rich matron?"
