The waning moon hung in the sky. The Luo River was shrouded in mist.
Seven or eight speedboats broke through the fog, swiftly rowing upstream on the Luo River.
Chen Mu sat awkwardly at the bow of the boat, forcing himself not to look back.
At the stern, Lin Que's orange-peel face was flushed red. Yet he still panted and toiled at the oars.
His eyes fixed on the junior in gray ahead, his teeth itched with hatred. He, a hall master of the Startling Swan Gang, rowing for a junior?
Growing more and more frustrated, he asked coldly, "Who do you run with?"
Haven't we been through this already? Chen Mu, puzzled, replied, "Helmsman Zhang Yun."
"Zhang Yun has control of three boats. I'm asking which one you're usually on?" Which worthless scamp would take a fancy to you, someone who can't steer a boat to save his life?
Chen Mu breathed a sigh of relief: "Oh, I guard the warehouse."
