As Yang Qing walked over to his table, moving with the energy of a corpse freshly dug from the ground, he paused, his gaze falling on the newcomer lounging on one of the seats on the porch.
"Zheng Hu? When did you get here?" Yang Qing asked, his tone lethargic as he addressed his red-haired inquisitor.
"A few seconds ago," Zheng Hu replied cheerily.
"What happened to you?" Zheng Hu asked, noting the dispirited look on Yang Qing's face as he sat down.
"Life, Zheng Hu, just life..." Yang Qing muttered with a listless expression as he pulled out a wine jar.
"Life has once again shown me that I am but its humble student... No, not even that. At this point, with all that it has thrown at me, I might as well be its overworked cleaner, buried neck-deep in life's dung," he added, uncorking the wine.
Yang Qing paused slightly after uncorking it, as if debating whether to drink it straight from the jar. Ultimately, he decided against it, and the guiding reason for that choice? Zheng Hu.
