The rice paper was stained with ink. He would have to rewrite it.
Meng Ruqing had just changed the paper when he heard the shout again.
"Pretty Uncle, Handsome Grandpa."
This time the voice seemed to be right outside the tent.
Meng Ruqing's hands trembled uncontrollably, his mind almost blank: "Brother Xuan."
He turned around and saw that Qin Hengxuan had already stood up, looking outside in utter disbelief.