Another hour passed.
Tu Xiao'an kept a constant watch on his surroundings. Inside the funeral hall, several empty bottles had accumulated at Zhao Da's feet. The man could really hold his liquor.
He seemed immune to alcohol. To be able to down several bottles of such high-proof spirits, his tolerance could give Tu Xiao'an's own master a run for his money.
His master, He Zhennan, was as famous for his drinking as he was for his snake-catching skills.
As for that girl, Li Qingzhao, she had unknowingly drifted off to sleep, leaning against the pagoda tree.
Her cloud of dark hair fanned out as she leaned against the trunk. Even in sleep, she couldn't erase the misty sorrow that clung to her features.
She must be worrying about how to escape even in her dreams.
Tu Xiao'an's Snake Gaze swept over her eyelashes, which rested like butterflies, and paused for a moment on her Haitang-pink lips. Her skin, as white as milk, seemed to glow under the not-so-bright moonlight.
