"Young master, this soup is brewed with eight tears, removing its bitterness and leaving a sweet fragrance, like a life of human hardships. Your heart is like dead ashes; drink this soup, and forget all troubles." The woman glanced around enchantingly, her words full of endless temptation.
Qin Yi squinted slightly, yet his lips curled into a smile. Though he felt uneasy inside, his face remained calm and composed.
"Young lady, could you be Meng Po?"
The woman was slightly taken aback, surprised, "Young master actually recognizes my old self."
"Damn, you really are Meng Po? Isn't Meng Po supposed to be an old, crumbling, decrepit old hag? How can she look like you?"
The woman smiled slightly, "The world is ignorant; they defame my appearance out of fear for my old self."
"Isn't that Mengpo Soup in your hand?"
The woman nodded slightly.
"Is this really the underworld?"
