Binghe sets down his own cup on the counter before sitting next to his laoshi. He'd been listening to the retelling with rapt interest, and a fond, dare one say, even romantic smile on his face.

Shen Yuan's complaint about stealing clothes brings Binghe's idle daydreams of picking out red silks to an abrupt and screeching halt.

"It isn't? Why not?"

It's not as though there weren't several arcs of Proud Immortal Demon Way that released around Qixi where Binghe ended up reenacting some element of the famous tale (three guesses which part), and, in one stroke of creativity, Great Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had even written an inverse of the traditional story where Luo Binghe's fine silk raiments were stolen by a poor cowherd who needed to pay for her sickly parents' medicine.

The point being, Binghe had met at least half a dozen of his wives under the circumstances of someone's clothes being stolen. It had all worked out fine in the end, hadn't it? What was the problem then?