The courtyard was quiet, the mood was oppressive. The first to break the silence was Chen Changsheng.
He walked into the hut and saw Tang Thirty-Six finishing the leftover tea-soaked rice. For some reason, this angered him. Any other time, he probably would have left to wash the dishes and wipe the table twice over, but right now he was not in the mood. He told the others, “I’m going to bed.”
Having said that, he turned around and walked into the hut, found a blanket, and put it over his face.
The rest, who were still immersed in that complex and melancholy mood, were rather surprised when they saw him really go to sleep. Guan Feibai arched his eyebrows and unhappily said, “He really is a cold-blooded guy.”
Gou Hanshi shook his head to indicate that he should say no more.
Tang Thirty-Six sneered. “You bastard, you’re just a battle maniac. How are you any different from that old man under the pavilion?”
