"Master, master, wait for me."
Xiaomei was almost running behind me, and then I noticed that my pace was too fast.
She ran to me panting and asked, "Who is the person you were asking about just now? Why are you so anxious?"
Just this sentence immediately made me feel uneasy.
"From the day you came to me, what did you promise me?"
Xiaomei was startled for a moment, then muttered in a low voice: "I shouldn't ask, I won't ask."
"Just remember."
It's not that I don't trust Xiaomei, but the desire to protect them is still there from beginning to end.
We've been through so many disasters before, I hate when anyone understands them.
Even the disciples I personally brought out cannot touch this red line, not even a little bit!
When I finally arrived at the teahouse, I looked up and felt a chill in my heart.
The teahouse that used to be noisy and bustling is now deserted, and even the shutters on the windows have not been lowered.
Although the door was open, I could clearly feel a sense of dilapidation.
Standing at the door, I looked inside and saw that Uncle Ya was still wearing the same blue coat that had remained unchanged for thousands of years, sitting in his original position with his back straight.
However, his already thin face was missing another two ounces of flesh.
Although Uncle Ya was still neatly dressed and his back was straight, his energy was gone.
Today, he looks no different from an ordinary retired old man.
I felt my nose was sore, straightened my mask, and walked inside.
Before I could sit still, a familiar voice came from upstairs: "Closed."
It was Ji Canghai who spoke upstairs.
Ji Canghai had a pair of crutches under his armpits and a few new scars on his face. The only thing that remained unchanged was his eyes, which were as pale as a flat lake.
Of course, if he goes crazy, he may be even more deadly than before.
"Hey." Before I could say anything, Uncle Ya spoke first: "The visitor is a guest. How can we attract guests when doing business?"
Uncle Ya raised his chin slightly towards me: "Come in, it's good to have a rest."
He used to have this attitude towards his neighbors. Times have changed and I now enjoy the treatment of a guest.
"Dong, dong..."
The crutches made a rhythmic impact with the ground, and Ji Canghai dragged his body slowly down the stairs step by step.
I looked at everything around me carefully, and there was no sign of San'er or Xiaobai in the empty counter.
The only waiter is Ji Canghai.
"No tea, just water."
He stood in front of Uncle Ya, as if talking to me, and also as if informing Uncle Ya.
I quickly waved my hand and said, "Just give me two bowls of well water."
Uncle Ya and I were sitting face to face. He was like an old tree root, unable to speak and expressionless.
Ji Canghai went away for a long time before returning. His crutches made him very clumsy. He held the tray in one hand and bit the edge of the tray with his mouth.
The tray kept shaking, and when it landed in front of me, it made a thick muffled sound.
The porcelain bowl shook a few times, and well water spilled all over the table.
"Erhai." Uncle Ya's tone was obviously unhappy: "What are you doing?"
Ji Canghai had a cold face and said without any tone in his voice: "I'm a disabled person, so it would be great if I could carry it over. Can you not choose?"
This cold tone is like Sanjiutian falling into an ice cave, and Uncle Ya seems to be an sworn enemy.
Ji Canghai spent the first half of his life in sports. Now that he is tied down by crutches, he must feel uncomfortable.
I quickly stood up and smoothed things over: "If you can give me a bowl of water, you are already giving me face. Thank you both."
Uncle Ya laughed as before: "We should thank you."
"It's been almost a week, and you are the first guest in the teahouse."
There was no change in his smile, but if you look closely, you can still see it.
The left side of Uncle Ya's face was obviously stiff, and the right corner of his mouth and eyes did not move at all when he smiled.
He was sitting in the hall, looking very much like a paper man in a shadow puppet show, hiding his stiffness in every move.
I looked around and focused on the plaque on Uncle Ya's head: "Is this a storytelling library?"
"Why don't you see Mr. Storyteller?"
That's right, I just don't open and pick up which pot, otherwise there is no way to know the current situation.
