Early morning the next day.

Bi Ningshuai sat by a congee street vendor not far from the imperial city. The place was excellent with hot congee carrying a delicious aroma.

This was his seventh bowl already; his stomach became round and full. He belched before gazing towards the city, seemingly waiting for someone.

“He’s probably caught and killed.” The turtle lay lazily on the table; its stomach also filled after three bowls. It couldn’t move at all.

This old man simply had the best congee.

“Please, he can’t die that easily. He’s probably lost in pleasure, still sleeping in the emperor’s bed and can’t get up. Old man, another one.” Bi Ningshuai loosened his belt and felt that he could eat more.

“Coming! Warm Gentle Fragrance, one coin for one bowl.” An old man wearing a tattered daoist robe carried a hot...