Zhou Ping'an and his companion naturally had nothing to pack up.
With Zhou Ping'an's portable space, they casually took out a couple of pieces of cloth, meaningfully tied them into two bundles, and prepared to descend the mountain.
The sun hung high, and the weather was clear and bright.
It was a perfect day for travel.
The previous day, they had already bid farewell to Su Lianxue, their master, and now with the master not on the mountain, it conveniently saved them a lot of trouble.
Under the watchful eyes of the disciples of Xinyuan, they walked less than a mile to Beiwang Pavilion, where they saw a familiar figure in white clothes, with a few maids in attendance, sitting in the pavilion playing chess.
This Young Master Gu's left hand was still wrapped in bandages and branches, careful not to move it.
He only stretched out his right hand, drinking tea.
During the game, he suddenly flipped the chessboard.