Wang Daochun snorted and said, "No matter how bad one's character is, they are still better than a traitor. You're not welcome here!"
Huang Yu's face darkened when he heard that. He snorted and said, "Wang Daochun, don't accuse me. I'm not a traitor! To be precise, I'm an internationalist. I don't have national borders in my heart, and calligraphy shouldn't either. It's just that your horizons are too narrow; not that my horizons are too broad. In my heart, I'm a perfect internationalist. I don't belong to China nor do I like China. I just happen to be born in China."
"Eurgh…" A wave of dry retching suddenly sounded, interrupting Huang Yu.
Huang Yu frowned and looked over. A young monk was holding the table and retching.
The old monk whispered, "My dear disciple, what's wrong? Haven't you always been in good health? I've never seen you vomit."
