The attendant bowed meekly and poured him a cup of tea. Gao Guang took it and drank it in one go, pulling out a handkerchief to cover his lips, catching a tea leaf that inadvertently went down with the tea, and then handed the handkerchief to the attendant.
The action was extremely meticulous, matched with his full beard, making anyone who watched feel uncomfortable all over.
Inside the carriage was silent, and Gao Guang was playing with his fingers.
His fingers were thick and covered in calluses, having endured the wind and rain at the borders in his early years, the back of his hands wrinkled numerous times, unmistakably the hands of a rough man.
He looked at them for a while, then touched his face full of beard, and began to giggle.
The laughter was like an old hen being strangled by the throat, indescribably harsh, completely different from the bold and forthright person at the Red Sleeve Pavilion just now.
