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Embracing the Void, inspecting Ming City, the grand courtyard.
The sky began to lighten, late winter transitioning into early spring, the most unpredictable time of the year when the weather shifts abruptly, easily letting external evils invade the body.
By the window inside the house, a small stove glowed with a low fire, simmering a pot of soup that emanated an extra hint of warmth.
As dawn broke, An Jing opened his eyes.
He got up, lifted the lid of the iron pot on the little stove, and was immediately hit with the scent of herbs followed by the fragrance of meat.
This was a pot of 'Old Ginseng Stewed Dragon.' Some special herbs, bamboo shoots, and mountain mushrooms had been added. Calculating the heat before sleeping to simmer slowly, by now the ingredients had turned perfectly tender.
