Yang Ge, with his hands on his hips and a face full of smug satisfaction, looked up at the large characters "Luoyang" written above the city gate.
So what if there were no horses and no GPS?
Didn't he still make it here?
Who would dare call him directionally challenged now?
"Excuse me, young man, could you please move aside?"
Someone gently tapped his shoulder.
"Oh, oh, sorry!"
Yang Ge quickly stepped aside, making way for the old man pulling a cart behind him and even gave him a helpful push.
Then, with a bold swagger, he walked toward the unmanned side of the city gate, pulled out his embroidered guard waist badge, flashed it before the city's guards, and strode into the dark entrance of the gate.
As soon as he passed through the gatehouse, a blast of warm air hit him in the face.
"Candied hawthorns, candied hawthorns."
"Pancakes, fresh off the griddle."
"Hey, strong man, come over..."
