Master Simmons left, came empty-handed, and left empty-handed. Honestly, Li Xin felt that Simmons hadn't quite grasped the noble etiquette. He needed to find a chance to hint at him. We're all common folk, and it's best to be courteous when needed; who knows, maybe I'd accept it?
Simmons left, and an uninvited guest arrived—the rude owl again, tilting its neck and crazily knocking on the window.
Li Xin's anger flared, and he rushed out fiercely. But this owl was quite cunning too; it dropped the letter and flew away, wagging its tail and wings while letting out a triumphant hooting.
Li Xin picked up the letter, "One day, I'll make a slingshot and shoot you down."
"Come quickly to the Bird Society."
Looking at the elegant handwriting—it must be Christie. The same letter, yet Li Xin felt a hint of romance in it. He promptly changed his clothes, tidied his hair in front of the mirror, called a carriage to Mahler Street, and headed straight to Christie's office at the Bird Society.
