Three days remained until the autumn equinox.
At the Heyin border marker.
The official road, a teahouse.
"Shopkeeper, could I trouble you for a bowl of tea?"
"Coming right up!"
"Shopkeeper, another plate of beans!"
"Sure thing!"
"Shopkeeper, do you have soup noodles?"
"We do. Just a moment, sir."
This humble teahouse stood not far from the official road.
Merchants passing the border marker would stop here to rest their feet and replenish their strength or dry rations. At a glance, there were as many as twenty people.
The teahouse keeper and his two helpers were rushing about outside, their feet barely touching the ground. Their voices had gone hoarse from answering all the customers.
They had been busy for quite some time before they finally had a moment to catch their breath.
Just as the keeper was about to wipe his sweat and rub his legs, he spotted a middle-aged man leading a mule down the official road. His clothes were patched all over. Hoping to sneak a break, the keeper sent one of the helpers over to serve him.
The helper greeted him warmly. "What can I get for you, sir?"
Only when he came closer did the helper get a good look at the middle-aged man.
He looked honest and simple, with graying black hair wrapped in coarse black cloth. His skin was dark, and his face still bore the marks of summer sunburn, making it clear he had spent years working beneath the sun. His hands were rough, his knuckles swollen and calloused, and mud was caked beneath his uneven, untrimmed nails. Up close, he smelled faintly of sour sweat, and his accent didn't sound local.
The middle-aged man rubbed his hands together awkwardly.
Head bowed, he spoke in a hoarse voice, his throat parched from