Fuxiang Tavern.
The name was utterly ordinary, yet it had stood in the city for nearly a century.
Around noon.
There were not many guests in the tavern, only scattered groups of two or three.
The proprietor sat in a chair behind the counter, holding a fat Black Cat in his arms.
The Black Cat's fur was sleek and soft. Its eyes were narrowed as it dozed.
From time to time, the proprietor glanced toward the window seat.
A Green Robe Man sat there with a plate of small dishes and a jug of warmed wine, drinking by himself.
Time trickled by.
More than half the jug of warmed wine had been emptied.
The fat Black Cat seemed to have slept its fill. It leaped onto the counter, spread itself into a meat pie, and lazily basked in the sunlight slanting in through the door.
After some hesitation, the proprietor finally rose, took a jug of warmed wine, and strolled over to the window seat, placing it on the table.
"What is our guest waiting for?"
the proprietor asked.
He was thin, with graying hair and beard, clouded eyes, and an air of senescence that belonged only to one in the twilight years of life.
"No hurry. Let's wait a little longer."
The Green Robe Man took a sip of wine. "Wait for a Teacher to finish his final lesson,
wait for a husband to finish cooking a pot of porridge for his wife and child,
wait for a physician to tend to his final patient,
wait for a young man to finish practicing his swordsmanship one last time before the sun sets."
His tone was casual and placid, as though he were speaking of old friends.
The proprietor fell silent.
He stood there without moving for a long time.