Tang Chuxia thought about the child in the book.
"You tell me the truth, have I changed?"
The old Taoist's nose twitched, his mouth watering with covetousness.
"If you think you have changed, then you have, if you think you haven't, then you haven't!"
Nonsense!
The most annoying thing about stinky Taoists is that they often speak in such ambiguous terms.
Just as Tang Chuxia was about to threaten the old Taoist with a chicken leg, a bald monk with seven prayer scars on his head popped up at the door.
"Old baldy, did you come sniffing around for the smell too?"
Before Tang Chuxia could say anything, the duster in the old Taoist's hand flew up, and he began questioning the old monk who was walking in through the doorway.
The old monk chuckled, "If you stinky Taoist are here, why can't I come?"
Tang Chuxia looked at the two of them.
So they knew each other.
Then she remembered what the old monk had said, "Was your talk of my impending demise just hot air?"
