The courtyard fell silent for a moment.
Then a clang rang out behind the house.
Someone had knocked over a wooden basin, which rolled into a corner of the wall.
Another wooden door was shoved open, slamming against the wall with a dull thud.
"Where?"
"Where's the man?"
"Where are the men?"
Footsteps surged from behind the house.
They were a chaotic jumble.
Little White Dragon stood at the courtyard gate, his eyelid twitching.
Two or three women, no longer young but not quite old, rushed out first.
The woman in front still had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a layer of flour coated the backs of her hands. The woman behind her wore a cooking apron around her waist, while the third followed close behind, still clutching a fire poker.
As they rushed out from behind the house, they spotted Little White Dragon at the gate.
Their feet stopped in unison.
The courtyard fell silent again.
Clad in silver armor, Little White Dragon was strikingly handsome.
The women's eyes seemed to glow red.
"It really is a man!"
"What a handsome fellow!"
"Quick, invite him in!"
She said "invite," but their movements were anything but leisurely.
The apron-clad woman wiped her flour-covered hands twice against her waist, then reached out to pull Little White Dragon over.
The woman holding hemp thread circled to the other side, trying to cut off his retreat.
The woman with the fire poker simply tossed it beside the wall and spread her arms across the courtyard gate.
Little White Dragon took a step back.
"Ladies, please stop."
Little White Dragon raised a hand in front of himself.
But they kept advancing as though they had heard nothing.
The apron-clad woman stared at his face and said with a smile:
"Don't shy