chapter 251 Noble and selfish

The night and the lights seem to have turned the small Xitang into an ancient poem. From time to time, a group of tourists looking back at the passing years would appear on the bluestone streets, vying to admire the gradually awakening March flowers, but no one is willing to pay attention to our inn called "Inn".

I didn't want to wait passively any longer, so I took out my guitar from my room, and sat under the willow tree opposite the inn and started playing and singing by myself.

After...