Chen Ji hummed: "Where is the son of the salt merchant named Huang Que sitting?"
Qi Zhenzhu pointed: "Right beside your right hand."
Chen Ji turned his head to size up the literati from the South beside him, who appeared to be around twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old, with a few strands of gray already in his temples. The other man wasn't looking at anyone else, his gaze remained fixed on Qi Zhaoyun across from him, and Qi Zhaoyun was also looking at him.
Chen Ji interrupted their affectionate gaze, politely saying: "Brother Huang Que?"
Huang Que came to his senses, and curiously asked: "How did you know my name?"
Chen Ji smiled and said: "I have long heard of Brother Huang Que's talents. By the way, I've heard that Brother Huang Que's family is in the salt merchant business, may I ask some questions?"
Huang Que's expression turned a bit unnatural: "Merchants are just crafty opportunists, there's nothing worth talking about."
