"Of course, I'm drinking."
Lin Chen cheerfully walked to the stream's edge. Spreading his legs, he didn't squat down right away. First, he stomped gently to pack the ground, then took two steps back. He knelt, leaned over, and scooped up a handful of water to his lips.
The stream water near the top of the hill was icy cold. He didn't know where it flowed from, but its taste was crisp and faintly sweet.
The stream was shallow, only about half a palm deep. There was no sign of shrimp or small fish, but the stones on the bottom were covered in a layer of moss, with many unknown snails clinging to it.
He had no interest in those snails. There was too little meat, and they were a pain to eat for all the effort.
He took more than twenty gulps in a row, stopping only when the parched feeling in his throat slowly disappeared.
Just as he was about to get up, his eyes accidentally glanced at a thick layer of withered, yellow maple leaves piled on the grass across the stream.
