The setting sun sank westward, gilding the evening clouds along the horizon. The early summer breeze carried a hint of coolness as it swept over the broad, thick city walls. Vermilion Bird Avenue remained bustling with people coming and going.
The little monk Yangduo sat on a low stool, savoring a bowl of vegetarian noodles. Having come from the Far-Western Bitter-Cold Land, he regarded food with reverence and gratitude.
He ate very slowly, chewing each mouthful of noodles for a long time before swallowing, a satisfied expression spreading across his face.
After finally finishing the noodles and drinking the last mouthful of broth, the little monk stuck out his tongue and began leisurely licking the bowl...
"Little master, if you're still hungry, why not have another bowl?"
The noodle-stall owner beside him could no longer bear to watch and couldn't help asking.
"Thank you, benefactor. I'm already full!"
Yangduo set down the bowl, which he had licked spotlessly clean, and scratched his shaved head as he answered with some embarrassment.
How could the stall owner know that in the Far-Western Bitter-Cold Land, when snow fell endlessly and cattle and sheep froze to death, the little monk would be scolded by his master if he failed to lick his porridge bowl clean?
"Benefactor, may I ask which of the younger generation at the Knowledge and Practice Institute has the highest cultivation attainment?"
Yangduo stood, secured his bundle on his back, and looked toward the distant gates of the Knowledge and Practice Institute.
"Little master, I don't understand what you're asking..."
The stall owner shook his head like a rattle-drum and began packing up his stall.
"Benefactor, may I ask which of the younger generation at the Knowledge and Practice Institute has the highest cultivation attainment?"
Yangduo walked over to a general-goods