A thin horse strolled down the official road leading from the northern Jing to Kui Province, neither urgently nor slowly. The man on top of it donned a conical hat that shielded him from the sun, viewing the scenery boredly as he threw crunchy, aromatic, tasty sesame cookies into his mouth.


    Not too long after, the bottom of the cookie bag was visible. He got a canteen out from his waist-pouch, took a few large glugs, then tsk‘ed in distaste. “So damn salty, what the hell.”


    That there was Fu Shen.