It had been raining incessantly for days, and the artisans in the East Market were long past restless.
Especially those with families to support.
They relied on their daily performances to earn an income.
When the weather was good,
if the crowd was generous, they could make over a hundred copper coins.
Even with fewer passersby, they could still make several dozen.
It wasn't much, but at least it was enough to feed their families.
But on overcast, rainy days, forget setting up a stall to perform—it was hard enough just to find a dry place to take shelter.
Their situation was much like the saying, "when the roof leaks, it pours all night."
Thus, as noon approached, quite a few of these people were taking shelter inside the Jishi Medicine Hall on the edge of the East Market.
Some were alone.
Like the fortune teller, who had spread his cloth banner beneath him and was half-reclining on it, muttering, "Less complaining saves energy. Then you don't feel hungry."
