Han Changli walked out of the restaurant, and there was no more snow. He stepped on the street in front of the restaurant, and a "crunch" sound was made under his feet, and a footprint broke the quiet white snow.

Turning back and patted Guo Xiaojiu's shoulder lightly, Li Sanpang smiled and shook his head: "I actually hope you can come. The exact time will be in three days, Zhuque Street."

As soon as he finished speaking, Li Sanfat glanced at the direction of the wooden door of the wine shop. Ning Buer had already stood in front of the door, and his cold eyes made his whole body tremble.

"Look at this so cold." Guo Xiaojiu knew without looking back that Ning Buer must have stood at the door. He pulled Li Sanpang's hand away, his eyes slightly squeezed, and he winked, and he and Li Sanpang could see clearly.

"Go back now, this dog weather." Li Sanpang was really strong. When he reached out and raised his hand, Han Changli was actually put on his arm, and a piece of fat shaking.

Han Changli, who was lying on Li Sanfat's shoulder, smacked his lips and reached out to touch a piece of flesh under his belly. He probably felt a little warmth and stretched out his face and pressed it over.

It’s not the cold wooden table, but Li Sanpang’s shoulders, so it’s very comfortable.

A string of footprints left on the snow, and the man had already walked towards the intersection of the street, and then walked out of the western city through three alleys. Li Sanpang was sure that Guo Xiaojiu must be still looking here, raised his arm and shook it without looking back.

"Oh, let's go." Guo Xiaojiu nodded. He naturally said to Li Sanpang. In fact, he wanted to say this to Han Changli more. However, it would not take long, and there would always be a chance, as long as he is still in the imperial capital.

Ning Buer had turned around, walked towards the wooden table, and put away the wine jar and empty plate.

A head was poked out from the wooden door. Guo Xiaojiu did not dare to neglect it. He closed the door and lit the oil lamp. It was almost evening and the room was still bright.

That night, inside the restaurant, two people sat on the last wooden staircase on the second floor of the restaurant. One dragged his cheeks, looked at the roof, the other played with his cuffs, and looked downstairs.

No one spoke first. Ning Buer didn't know how to speak, and Guo Xiaojiu felt embarrassed to speak.

After sitting for a long time, Guo Xiaojiu finally plucked up the courage and looked at Ning Buer with a smile. Ning Buer was still in a daze. He could only hold back his words.

With two days left, Guo Xiaojiu comforted himself in his heart, and could always think of a way to get out of the restaurant.

A strong wind blew from the streets and alleys, blew on the wooden doors of the wine shop, and a crisp sound was heard.

Ning Buer withdrew his eyes, stood up, turned around and looked over Guo Xiaojiu's shoulder, and turned around: "Go back and rest. If you really want to go, go, but you can't do it easily."

Guo Xiaojiu blinked, a little surprised, and a little surprised. She is really Ning Buer. Guo Xiaojiu habitually reached out and stroked her waist, but then she remembered that the sword was still hanging on the wooden door of the winery, and there was only the sound of bells that were remembered on her wrist.

"Don't worry, otherwise we'll go together and just look from a distance." Guo Xiaojiu turned his head and looked at Ning Buer's beautiful figure walking towards the room, and said without any haste.

"Yeah." Just responded softly, Ning Buer's door had closed and a little light appeared in the room.

"Hehe." Guo Xiaojiu smiled foolishly, stood up, walked downstairs, and walked to the side of the wooden door. Without a sword, he would definitely not be able to sleep well.

Early the next morning, an old man who had not walked around the imperial capital for a long time came out of the Prince's Academy. The old man was in a state of dust, as if he had just returned from a faraway place.

A young maid was next to the old man. The maid was not very beautiful, but the beggar chicken she made was indeed delicious.

The old man walked back from Mobei, Longyou Road, and he brought the maid back from there, and was entrusted by someone. The person who entrusted him was the elderly scholar who was still standing behind the academy gate behind him.

There were no one else in the gate of the academy, only the dean of the academy who was in charge of the position of the prince and the tutor. I think he was the only one. It is true that Guo Yuanwu is an elderly scholar, but compared to the old man who walked out of the academy and Zhang Jiming from the northern border, he looked like he was a young teenager.

Seeing the old man and the maid walking towards the distance, Guo Yuanwu sighed and turned around and walked back to the academy.

The maid looked around and was very curious. He was holding an erhu in his arms, a pipa behind his back, and two tears still left on his face. It was obvious that he had just cried.

It was early in the morning, and few people walked on the Zhuque Street, so the snowflakes on the Zhuque Street in the imperial capital left her footprints. From then on, she was from Chang'an, the imperial capital.

The old man walked with his hands in his arms and hunched his back. He didn't walk very quickly. There were gusts of cool breeze in the morning on the street. The old man's body was shaking, afraid that a gust of wind would blow away his bones.

"Old man Qian, will I really be from Chang'an, the imperial capital in the future?" The maid's head was still curiously looking at the streets and alleys, as well as the various rare things on both sides of Zhuque Street.

It must be the first time that the maid has arrived in Jingzhao Prefecture, and it is also the first time she has entered the imperial capital. She is wearing a thick and shabby robes that can block the wind and sand. Compared with the clothes of middle-aged women who occasionally walk through shops on the street, it is much worse.

"Girl, I'll remind you again. Here, you have to call me Mr. Qian or Doctor Qian." The old man called Qian Zangzhen, who was a literary official in the temple in the imperial capital. He was a fourth-rank official and a Taizhong doctor. To put it bluntly, he was still a bad old man without power.

The maid curled her lips unhappily. The wind on the street blew on her body. She tightened the erhu in her arms, thinking about the old man a little. She hadn't made beggar chicken for him for a long time, so she made it for him tonight, but he couldn't get it.

Thinking of the sad things, a little tears were rolling in the maid's eyes.

Qian Zangzhen, who looked back slightly, did not dissuade him when he saw this scene. After all, he was young and cried as soon as he wanted to. He just sighed, "Which old guy Zhang Jiming took over the maid, why didn't he be so lucky?"

Unfortunately, the tree planted by old Zhang Jiming was eventually inserted into his Qian Zangzhen's pit. From then on, this maid was his Qian Zangzhen's maid, not Zhang Jiming's maid.

"Girl, tell me what you want to do in the imperial capital. Old man, I will definitely satisfy you." Qian Zangzhen curled his lips and said with confidence.

"Storytelling." The maid raised her arm lightly, wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, and said with courage, afraid that Qian Zangzhen would retort, and frowned and his tone became stronger: "I only know how to speak."

Qian Zangzhen was a little surprised, and he stopped and turned around and looked at the maid's eyes carefully.

He stopped on Zhuque Street, and the maid stopped in the middle of the street, looking at him cowardly. Unfortunately, the person in front of him was not Mr. Zhang, nor the old man who could not get angry even if he joked with her.

"Okay, just be a storyteller." For some reason, Qian Zangzhen didn't say that she had no roots. In the Tang Dynasty, storytellers were not a profession that was highly regarded, but mainly made less money. Moreover, this was the imperial capital, not a remote place like Mobei in Longyou Road.

The most famous one in the imperial capital is the Liyuan Opera. Rich families will go to Liyuanfang to listen to the opera when they have time. The stories there are definitely more interesting than the ones told by storytellers.

The maid who got Qian Zangzhen's answer was a little surprised and felt even more unsure. Storytelling is not a matter of one person, and it was Mr. Zhang Jiming who was telling her before. At most, she just played the pipa immediately and looked at Mr. Zhang Jiming's eyes. She was the only one, but she couldn't stand that kind of air.

"Forget it." The maid lowered her head, with some stains on her face, and she had gently wiped it clean with the tears that had fallen.

"That won't work." Qian Zangzhen had already turned around and walked forward with her hands behind her back: "This is my thing, I'm just a storyteller, and I'm a little bit more. When I have time, I'll accompany you."

"Although you are a woman's house, after all, Mr. Zhang entrusted me with it, which is his last thought. After arriving at the mansion, in addition to storytelling, you have to follow me and read more words." Qian Zangzhen said, turning into an alley.

The maid nodded and agreed.

When he reached the end of the alley, he turned around again and saw his Qian Canzhen's mansion, which was an ordinary dilapidated yard with no maids and no servants.

The yard is in some age and there are a lot of weeds growing in the corners.

The maid followed Qian Zangzhen and walked into the depths of the yard. There was only one room on the front and two rooms on the side in the yard.

"I'll take out the things later. From now on, you will be in that room. My old man is old, so I'm here." Both houses are on the east side of the courtyard. The house that I said I would give to my maid was his original house.
Chapter completed!