Back behind the bar counter, Zhou Ze poured himself a glass of water. He had just taken a few sips when the old Daoist came back.
"Did you paste it?"
"Yes, Boss."
The old Daoist scratched his head and asked again, "Boss, why are there so many wreaths behind their car?"
Moreover, those were not real wreaths. One would not be able to see them if they were not smeared with cow tears.
The Chinese knew that wreaths were for the dead. It was very unlucky for the living. It was definitely not good to have these things in the back of the car.
Therefore, even though the two young Chengguan almost let him eat at his boss's side, they were also kind-hearted. The old Daoist still gave away the talisman paper hidden in his crotch willingly.
"If someone spits too much at the back, there will be more."