It had turned to night.
Zhao Changhe changed back into Wang Daozhong's clothes, restored his yellow-faced disguise, and returned to Yang Qianyuan's station.
Well, Wuzhui was still in good shape and untouched. Not bad, not bad.
Lights were still on in the inn, and Yang Qianyuan paced anxiously back and forth. Strangely enough, he had dressed back into the dandyish appearance he had on wanted posters, freshly shaved and with tidy hair, no longer in the rugged appearance he had during their first encounter.
Upon seeing "Wang Daozhong" return, Yang Qianyuan seemed almost as if he had seen a family member, hastily greeting him, "Senior, where have you been..."
Zhao Changhe looked at him curiously and then returned to an indifferent face, "What, is it your business where I go?"
