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"Look at you, young Daoist, being all polite..."
The old woman grumbled at Qin Sang as she turned her head and called out, "Old man, old man, we’ve got another mouth to feed. Dish out an extra bowl of rice!"
"Where are all these mouths coming from?"
An old man poked his head out from the woodshed. When he caught sight of Qin Sang, a faint light flickered in his eyes.
He gave Qin Sang a once-over but, upon noticing the mud splattered on his leggings, a trace of disappointment flashed across the old man’s face. It was so fleeting it was almost imperceptible. He gave a low grunt and withdrew without another word.
The small courtyard was extremely narrow and dilapidated.
Such ramshackle dwellings were already rare even in Xianyuan City. Qin Sang’s sharp nose caught the scent of food wafting from the woodshed. The scent was from coarse grains and wild vegetables, the same kind of humble fare he had once eaten at Qingyang...
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