"What a relief!"
In the Imperial Academy's Canteen, Zhou Li looked at the rice noodles fried with rice in his plate, his face brimming with joy. Meanwhile, Master Li slammed his wine cup heavily onto the table, wiped his mouth, and said with exuberant enthusiasm,
"Six or seven years it's been, you're the only one who's pushed me to this extent!"
The battle that just ended in a draw had left both parties injured. After leaving behind an eight hundred-character essay on his observations of the battle, Master Li dragged Zhou Li to the canteen, insisting that they should have a good meal.
"You're also the only one who's made me crave for plain rice mixed with pickled vegetables."
Covering his face, Zhou Li said with difficulty, "Tell me the truth, how poor are you really? You're actually eating rice noodles fried with rice. Don't you know that in the Beiliang jails, there's a vegetarian dish, and during the festivals, there's even the scent of meat? You'd be better off in prison."
