The 32nd year of Jianing, the eighth of October.
Han Lu, the seventeenth solar term in the lunar calendar.
There's a saying in the Ning Dynasty: during the day, Han Lu, one can pass winter with a single robe; at night, Han Lu can freeze an old cow to death. Walkers on the streets in the morning could already see white mist breaths.
The sound of roosters crowing, Xiao Man walked out of the West Wing Room rubbing her arms. The snores of Brother Pao and Er Dao came from the felt tents, with sharp sounds turning into muffled echoes inside the tent.
At this moment, the main house's door creaked open. Chen Ji, wearing just a thin robe, directly walked into the small room, bent down, picked up a shoulder pole, and was about to head out.
While tying an apron, Xiao Man said, "Master, come back early. The meal will be ready soon."
Wu Yun jumped onto Chen Ji's shoulder. Chen Ji smiled as he left the house, "Sure, Gate Tower Alley is so close. I'll be back soon."
