Under the pavilion located in the front garden of Xiang Ling's courtyard, three men were sitting around the stone table while enjoying the herbal tea that An Xi just served them.
"Despite the sweet fragrance, the tea is barely carrying any taste today." Zhe Yuan mumbled in distaste as he gave a very unimpressed look to the tea cup he was holding in his hand.
"It's not the tea that is bland. It's your heart." Li Xian said from where he was sitting at the opposite end of the table with Wei Guang. Neither of the latter two had touched their tea yet.
Zhe Yuan let out a deep sigh as he placed his tea cup on the table and pulled out his folding hand fan. It had a beautiful scenery of mountains and bamboos painted on it with a poem written on its top right corner. With his gaze fixed on the scenery ahead, he started fanning himself.
