Bon Voyage

They only parted ways less than half a year ago at the Sacred City.

Six months ago, Yunlou Qingshu walked around in the Sacred City, his posture elegant and graceful, and his every move was indescribably noble and solemn. But at the moment, he sat on the ground, looking unkempt. He reeked of wine, and a pool of vomit remained uncleaned in the corner. He was hungover, like a tramp who was about to die on the streets, and one could no longer find the slightest bit of grace or majesty on him.

When Ye Qingxuan saw him, he was sitting in a place resembling an ancestral shrine. Under his buttocks was the table where offerings were initially placed on, and the memorial tablets that were supposed to be enjoying the worshiping were all over the place at the moment.

The shrine that used to be solemn and dignified in the past was a mess at the moment.