The Drunken Immortal Brew House was equally lively, with patrons eagerly discussing last night's explosion and the massive fire at the Imperial Palace.
Shopkeeper Yang Haibo was busy running around, with hardly a moment to spare. But in the private room on the second floor, Tang Xiaotong slept deeply, unaffected by the chaos.
He said he would slowly drink and wait until today's hour of the dragon, watching towards the Imperial Palace and listening for the grand ceremony's bells, as if personally sending Princess Yujia off to marry into the palace.
In reality, however, before the late afternoon arrived, having drunk all afternoon, he was already as drunk as a puddle of mud, oblivious to the events outside.
When he finally awoke, it was already sunset. The remaining sunset rays slanted through the window lattice, casting the wood grain on the table unusually clear.
Tang Xiaotong only felt a splitting headache, his throat dry as if stuffed with a handful of sand.
