In front of the hall, two pairs of red candles with thick arms were lit, and a big longevity word was hung in the middle of the north wall. Jiang Changrong's face was smiling. He sat on the chair of the top master. From time to time, he nodded to the guests who looked at him. He sat next to him a beautiful young woman of twenty-seven or eight years old, with a thin white melon-shaped face, almond eyes and peach cheeks, and two big watery eyes. She called Liu Mèi Niang. She was the second wife who married Jiang Changrong to worship the birthday of the second house that Jiang Changrong only married to the door two years ago. He was mainly a rough and generous warrior. At this time, he stepped forward to celebrate Jiang Changrong's birthday one by one. However, the eyes of the birthday person would probably put a few turns on the beautiful young woman. Jiang Changrong's heart was like a mirror. He was really too beautiful. If he was twenty years younger, he would not help but look at him when paying birthday to others. He kept his usual smile on his face, but he remained silent.