29. Green Ant New Wine

  Listening to Mo Xie's tone, which was intentionally provocative, Meng Cui first snorted, "Who did I come to see?" Then, like the others who were reading the article, he elegantly inhaled a breath of cold air and suddenly turned his head towards the depths of the bar, "——Could it be that he is Mo Yan?"

  Do you know what Foxtail's impulse is at this moment? —— She wants to see if there are any radishes beside Mo Yan. If there aren't any grown-up radishes, then radish seedlings will do too. She'll take them all home and plant them herself, then sell them on Taobao: "Mo Yan's last giant radish, limited edition collectible, don't miss out."

  "Keep pretending."

  Mo Xie, who had been influenced by the modern atmosphere of the bar, was now speaking with a more modern tone. "If you want to see Mo Yan, just say so directly, why did you have to pretend to be jealous in front of the Green Ants and make a show of being sour?"

  What's going on now?

  Don't look at Mo Ye's sentence, it only has a few words, but the amount of information inside is really too much. Meng Yan was stunned and only confirmed which information point to ask from, "...just now that green skirt D version angebaby, called Green Ant?"

  "Uh-huh."

  Meng Cui smiled, "I see, so you call me 'insect', probably a habit from calling the green ant that too?" Of course ants are also insects, and what's more, it was a beautiful insect.

  Mo Ye seemed to be at a loss for words, choked up, and could only stare at her.

  Mantou smiled and bowed his head to carefully examine the wine that Mo Yan had poured for him, then he grinned mischievously and beckoned towards the inner part of the counter, "Brother Mo Yan, please come over here."

  Mo Ye was choked by saliva and started coughing violently.

  Mo Yan walked over, furrowing his brow as he looked at Mochen. Mochen still couldn't see his facial features very clearly, but she could make out the curve of his bright red lips, like blood. Mochen smiled, "Brother Mo Yan, I really have seen you before, really."

  Mò zhān believes in fate, she thinks that everyone she meets in life won't just be a coincidence; for example, the year she met Jiāng Yuǎn Fēng, or when she once dreamed of Mò Yán without any reason.

  She said she had seen Mo Yan, not just making a pass, but really; the boy who played the harmonica in her dream, whose face was unclear, was exactly like Mo Yan at this moment. Similarly, half of his face was hidden in the shade, similarly thin lips were vermilion, and similarly long hair was cut neatly.

  "...If there's nothing else, I'll go ahead and get things done." Mo Yan heard Mei Cui's familiar phrase again and frowned, wanting to leave.

  Misty cicada sighed, pointing to the two bowls of wine in front of her, "Brother Mo Yan, this shouldn't be a bar; could it be a soy milk shop? Or is it a milk tea shop?"

  "Huh......" This time, even Mo Yan was choked and asked, "What did you say?"

  Things are going in the direction that Mo Yan hoped for, and she knew that as soon as she said this, it would be like finding a topic to chat about with Mo Yan. "Brother Mo Yan, look at these two bowls, where is the wine? They're clearly soy milk or milk tea. How can they be wine when they're so murky?"

  "It's really scary to be ignorant." Mo Xie picked up the topic, raising an eyebrow and shrugging half of his shoulder, "This is what 'Chinese good rice wine' is all about."

  Mo Yan seemed to narrow his eyes and stared at Mo Xie for a moment, then suddenly smiled at Moxi. That smile was like the spring flowers finally blooming in the ice and snow, leaving Moxi stunned.

  "A cup of turbid wine exhausts my remaining joy, tonight's farewell dream is cold. You must have heard this sentence before? Our traditional wine was always this turbid wine, which contained wine lees and was low in degree but soft; later, the nomadic people from the north brought over their distilled liquor, and only then did the wine gradually become clear and intense."

  Mo Yan's fingers wandered along the floral pattern on the wine jar, admiring its elegance. "Green ants new brew, red mud small fire stove... The 'green ants' in poetry refer to the foam that rises from this turbid wine. Look, even Little Master likes the charm of green ants."

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  Mo Yan, you're ruthless! I'm coming for you now!