You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
The man moves the draped tent to the wayside and peers into it. His eyes scan around his surroundings, scrutinizing the items littering the floors and tables; he looks out toward the dreary town for a moment before relenting to enter. His gaze focuses on the greeting—Zhanche's eyes regarding her with suspicion, "... Perhaps over a cup of tea?" he responds to her inquiry, offering a false smile as he slings his bag over his shoulders and onto the floor as he took a seat.
"I'm on a journey to my peoples' village, Jun Lei, to return to my roots." His false smile setting and becoming more believable by the minute, "Got here by accident along the way— had to make a detour to avoid the rumors of highwaymen." — "What about you— why do you know me?"
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