Old fox, young fox. Old Wheelchair, new wheelchair.
Chen Garden had concubines, but they didn't dare come near. Laughter gradually rose and then fell again.
With great tacit understanding, the young and old stopped their laughter at the same time and resumed the silence. Fan Xian nudged his wheelchair forward, placing his knee near the old man's knee. This position appeared to be very intimate.
Chen Pingping pointed at him and then gently patted the handle of his own wheelchair, making a hollow echoing sound. He asked, "Have you gotten used to sitting in a wheelchair?"
"There's nothing to get used to. I'm covered with injuries everywhere. I can hardly ride a horse over to see you," Fan Xian said self-mockingly. After a pause he said, "Besides, it's not my first time in a wheelchair. A year or so ago, I was stabbed by someone in the Hanging Temple. Afterward, was I not in a wheelchair for a month? The getting-used-to has already become natural."
