The deaths of Old Zhu's family of three were like a stone tossed into a deep pool.
Though they stirred a few ripples in the alley, after a few days, hardly anyone mentioned them anymore. When neighbors brought them up by chance, it was no more than a sigh.
As for the disappearance of Hou Zheng, who had rented the dilapidated house, no one cared at all.
Who would care whether a gambling good-for-nothing cultivator lived or died?
What everyone cared about now was the ever-rising grain price.
Whenever the aunties met, their conversations always revolved around Spirit Rice or Tribute Rice, whose prices changed by the day. Faint worry clouded their faces, and they were full of anxiety over the winter that had already arrived.
When the first snow fell, a new family moved into Old Zhu's house.
There were five people in the family. The man of the house was surnamed Duan, with fifth level of Qi Condensation cultivation. He had one wife, one concubine, and two children.
Cultivator families like this were not common in the streets and alleys, so they became the subject of many neighbors' conversations.
But the cultivator surnamed Duan had a fine temperament, always smiling and polite to everyone he met.
One of his wife and concubine was gentle and demure, the other delicate and beautiful. Both were skilled in cooking, and when they had first moved in, they made quite a few pastries to share with the neighbors.
The two children also appeared well brought up.
All in all, they made a very favorable impression, and the family easily blended in with the neighborhood.
Wang Chen, however, paid them no mind.
He even changed his former habits, rarely going out and spending most of his time cultivating.
The weather grew colder and