The summer sun blazed, its scorching rays pouring down, baking the dust on both sides of the official road until it was faintly hot.
The drone of cicadas added to the sweltering atmosphere.
After five straight days of travel, the party had left the Yellow Maple Path and officially entered the territory of the Qiu Long Path.
Beside the official road, a simple tea stall stood under a dense canopy of trees. Though its thatched roof was dilapidated, it cast a large and welcome patch of shade. Chen Qing ordered them to take a short rest here.
The tea stall wasn't large, with only a few wooden tables and long benches.
The stall's owner was an old man with swarthy skin and a deeply wrinkled face. Seeing so many distinguished-looking guests arrive at once, he eagerly wiped down the tables and chairs, serving them cool tea in large, coarse earthenware bowls.
The disciples found shady spots to sit, some gulping down the cool tea while others conversed in low voices.
