The young man picked up the teacup and took a sip.
Qing'an: "How is it?"
Li Zhiyuan: "Terrible."
Qing'an nodded: "Indeed."
Li Zhiyuan: "Is it missing tea leaves?"
Qing'an shook his head: "We usually drink offering wine and rarely have tea. Today, I had a sudden idea and tried a sip. It tasted terrible, so I left it on purpose, wanting you to try it too."
Li Zhiyuan looked down. Next to the teacup, there were a pair of chopsticks. He didn't reach out to pick up the chopsticks to get some food, but instead calmly said:
"I got the experience."
Qing'an: "I told you, you remind me a lot of him, but you're not him in the end."
Li Zhiyuan: "Yeah, I don't want to be the second him."
Qing'an reached out, picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and began writing on the white paper in front of him.
"He used to say that we ate a lot. When walking the Righteous Path, the main thought on his mind was how to feed us, worrying that we might starve to death.
