Their foreheads touched

While Liu Sumeng's memory had been of an entirely different life, Yuan Xuelan recalled something more recent.

His smile strained as he dodged a heavy slap coming down on his shoulder. "So wonderful for you to come join us! Sit down, sit down!" The middle-aged man hollered and cheered, spilling wine from the jug he held in his hand.

Liu Sumeng was quick to find them both a chair to settle down.

"So wonderful for you to come join us, Master Cultivators! Please have a drink with us!"

"He doesn't drink," the Ivory Sword Saint responded before Yuan Xuelan could. 

The young stuttered a little, feeling embarrassment heat his cheeks.

Yuan Xuelan swallowed down his pride and nodded stiffly. "Sorry."

The man blinked at him, momentarily shocked at the revelation but ultimately didn't care and laughed as he poured Liu Sumeng a cup.