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... accounts?

“`

The waiter, fighting back tears, shakily set a cup of hot tea in front of Bai Chuwei; perhaps out of nervousness, some of the tea spilled over.

The old Mr. Rong seemed ready to explode again but calmed down as soon as he met the ancient ancestor’s gaze.

After serving the tea, the waiters hurriedly retreated, not daring to disturb them further.

Bai Chuwei picked up the tea cup, gently blew on it, took a sip, and commented, “Snow Mountain Mist, ...

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