"Right Haye Tuo Shan."
"Left Haye Dadamu."
"Village Elder Wuerke."
"Military adviser Guo Shao."
There was even a Han man among them...
Inside the bamboo house, the seat of honor stood empty. A whole tiger pelt lay across its bamboo mat, its head still frozen in a roar, though its fur had long since lost its luster and looked old and dull.
Behind the seat hung a low bamboo curtain. A faint medicinal smell seeped through its gaps, and several attendants could dimly be seen gathered around a bed.
Le Luoluo sat to one side below the seat of honor, while the other four sat on either side. Wang Yang sat alone in the middle. Anyone who did not know better might have thought he was on trial.
All five maintained their dignified reserve and avoided looking at Wang Yang, as though he were beneath their notice. An ordinary person seated there would inevitably have felt awkward, embarrassed, or agitated. Wang Yang, however, sat at ease, his expression entirely unchanged.
Village Elder Wuerke clapped his hands. Two bare-chested barbarian men carried over a low table and set it before Wang Yang. Three coarse earthenware bowls sat upon it, each enormous. An attendant brought a wine jar and filled all three with a heavy glug, glug, glug.
Cloudy yellow wine swirled in the bowls. Its powerful fumes, mixed with a sour, astringent smell like something fermented too long, rushed straight up the nose and stung the eyes.
Wuerke gestured for him to drink.
"It is our village's custom that a distant guest who comes to discuss important matters must first drink three large bowls if his intentions are sincere. If the Han Envoy truly comes in good faith, please drain the wine."
Wang Yang glanced at the alarmingly large bowls and