The green mountains stretch far, by the banks of the Wuxi River.
The old tree at the entrance of the town was still there.
Were the roads in Shiliang Town a bit wider now?
Walking slowly through the market, Song Yan wore a bamboo hat and coarse linen clothes, looking every bit like a Jianghu martial artist.
Shiliang never lacked such martial artists, so he naturally didn't attract too much attention.
He found a seat outside a teahouse and sat down.
"Waiter, tea."
"Coming right up!"
The waiter brewing tea was unfamiliar to Song Yan, quite young, perhaps a new hire in recent years.
Inside the teahouse, a storyteller recounted tales he had never heard.
The villagers around, drinking tea and listening to stories, occasionally chatted about town affairs.
Detective Ling had been transferred to the Six-Doors in the capital, a genuine promotion.
