The Speaking Pork Trotter

Time flies quickly; may you enjoy a cup of drink.
I know not the height of the green mountain, nor the depth of the earth.
Only watching as the seasons change, that it took people's lives.
------
Under the nightfall of Luocheng City rides a spirited youth, whose steed's hooves echo steadily upon cobblestone streets.

He appears like a character straight from a storyteller's tale, descending from cascades of clouds and venturing forth into the martial world; journeying onward among verdant peaks, he watches as twilight fades into the western sky.

If one were to ask who roams eternally, untethered in this jianghu—

He would reply thus: the gentle breeze, the bright moon, and I.

...

Perhaps this is a long story. Please allow me to slowly narrate it.

Green Mountain

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In the darkness of the night, yellow corn kernels spilled across the road, clattering as they scattered.


Chen Ji stood in front of the inn, quietly watching as people came with torches drawn by the sound, swarmed to the ground like bees, scooped up the scattered corn kernels into their bosoms, and ran off.


At this very moment in Guyuan, grain is life.


Several members of the Yulin Army rushed out of the inn and, with veins nearly bursting in anger, demanded from Chen Ji at his side, "What are you doing? Why spill the grain on the ground?"


Chen Ji paid them no mind and turned to walk back into the inn.


Qi Zhenzhuo followed behind him, angrily demanding, "With such scarcity of food nowadays, what will everyone eat tomorrow if you spill all the grain? What will His Highness eat?"


The main hall of the inn was quiet and calm, the flickering candlelight dancing in everyone's eyes.


261, Apology