The weather started to get colder as it was approaching the year's end.
Qinghong Pavilion was deep in the bamboo forest. Water flowed under the bridge, and it looked quiet and serene, which was in sharp contrast to the bustling Central Empire City.
Saint Lady was sitting in the attic, dressed in female costumes that were made of ice. Her skin was smooth and glossy, and her hair was perfectly brushed.
She was making tea, and her hands looked elegant. Every time she moved her fingers, they had lingering charm.
Countless monks in the world would do anything just to see the face of Saint Lady. If they could make tea and talk about Taoism with her, they might be willing to live a hundred years less.
Zhang Ruochen walked through the bamboo forest, arriving outside Qinghong Pavilion. He sniffed the tea and smiled. "Ancient Tea of Saintly Way. Can't believe that stingy Chu Siyuan would give you the tea leaves of this."