November 23rd.
Monday.
Favorable, for burial, nothing else should be undertaken;
Unfavorable, for all other things.
Zheng Qing had never felt the old almanac to be so accurate. Upon waking up in the morning, he sadly discovered that his bruised and swollen appearance hadn't improved at all. His eyes were still as black as they were last night, his nose was blue, and his cheeks were swollen high, making the description 'swollen like a pig's head' seem so fitting from afar—today he should be like Dylan, staying in a coffin during broad daylight, doing nothing but snoring.
"Trying to cover up may be even worse if discovered."
While the young scholarship student was diligently applying pearl cream to his face, Xiao Xiao consoled him: "You can just step out in a straightforward manner, and if anyone asks, stick to what we agreed upon last night, saying it was magical injuries from hunting team training."
