This time, the encounter with old friends happened in a town not so central.
The Western Regions town had unique charm; the sky was bluer than in the Central Plains and Jiangnan, clouds rolled, distant shadows of mountain ravines could be faintly seen, and the locals filled wooden baskets with dried fruits, dates, selling them, the aroma of oil and mutton accompanied by the subtle crackle of fire coals, enticing hunger.
People gathered together in a large circle at the trading spot of this city.
More and more people kept coming here.
Usually, what drew people together might be caravans from the Central Plains, bringing silk and porcelain, perhaps jugglers with hidden talents, or freshly grilled skewers sizzling with oil, but today was different.
