The boat traveled along the river.
After a while, a sudden splash rang out.
Li Ping'an flicked his fishing rod, and a large fish weighing four or five jin landed in the boat.
He made a pot of fragrant fish soup.
The night had grown late, and the moon had set.
Li Ping'an was a little tired and could not be bothered to moor the boat.
He went straight into the cabin and fell fast asleep.
The wind rose during the night, blowing the little boat to and fro across the river.
By the time he woke early the next morning, he had no idea where he was.
Monk Changqing had been quietly recuperating ever since he failed his tribulation.
Li Ping'an asked where he would go afterward, and Monk Changqing said that after resting for a while, he would attend the Demon-Slaying Assembly.
As it happened, they were heading the same way.
Monk Changqing spent his days resting with his eyes closed. It had been a month since the two had last spoken.
Li Ping'an unfastened the Wine Gourd at his waist, tipped his head back, and took a swig.
Over the course of his journey, Li Ping'an had spent nearly all his silver.
He had originally planned to catch a few fish each day and sell them for a little money.
But his catches had been poor lately, not even enough to feed himself.
Let alone sell any.
Somewhat helplessly, Li Ping'an put away his bamboo rod.
He brought the boat to shore and heard someone selling tofu on the opposite bank.
Tofu?
Selling tofu was a good business.
If any business was guaranteed to make money without losing a penny, it had to be selling tofu.
*If the tofu accidentally turned out too firm, you could sell