"Five-colored horse, cool breeze sword, endless landscapes..."
Ma Chao, humming a tune by his own huge stove, reached out to grab some drying distillers grains, squeezed them to feel the moisture content before throwing them back, and then picked up a shovel to start turning them over.
The brewing area was Ma Chao's own domain, where normally no one would come unless he called for help. In fact, he never called anyone because he had been helping his father with brewing since middle school. Later, when his father became chronically inebriated from alcohol, he started handling it alone.
Those uninformed might think Ma Chao was just jealously guarding his brewing techniques, fearing others would learn and take them. But those who had been around from the start knew that what Ma Chao tightly guarded was not the simple brewing methods—those were straightforward and hardly worth mentioning.
