Chapter 257

Dusk was heavy, bleeding out like spilled ink. The rhythmic clatter of footsteps echoed with startling clarity through the somewhat silent street. A down-and-out figure cast a long, drawn-out shadow under the dim, yellowish streetlamp, finally coming to a halt before a quaint, courtyard-style storefront. Zhao Xintian raised his head, gazing at the four large characters on the plaque—"Floral Tavern"—a storm of complex emotions churning in his chest. "I wonder if alcohol still has any effect on me now?" The tavern's facade possessed a unique charm. Flanking the entrance were scrolls inscribed with the poetic lines: "Wishing to buy osmanthus flowers and go boating with wine as of old, / It is never quite like the wanderings of our youth." A faint fragrance of ink drifted through the air. He pushed open the door, and a gentle scent of osmanthus rushed to greet him. Floral decorations were scattered everywhere inside the shop. Several bundles of dried osmanthus hung on the walls, their golden color radiant and their aroma subtle and serene. In a corner sat a few pots of blooming autumn chrysanthemums, petals unfurling layer by layer, as if whispering tales of the autumn day. Each table featured a small, delicate blue-and-white porcelain vase holding a few branches of fresh peach blossoms, injecting a touch of vitality and life into the rustic tavern.