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About This Novel

A swift and violent autumn wind howled in the woods outside the door. Countless dead leaves clinging to the big trees were pitifully blown off by the wind, and then lifted up into the clouds, flying all over the sky. The hunters finished their dinner without taking off their leather boots. Their faces were flushed and they were in high spirits. These people were half nobles, half squires, and half farmers from the province of Normandy. They were wealthy, physically strong, and strong enough to break the horns of cows squatting in the market. They had spent a whole day hunting in the mountain farm owned by Bailong Duier, the village chief of Aiba Township, and were now eating around a big table in the villa-like farm. The owner of the farm was their host. They roared and talked, laughed like wild animals, stretched out their necks without restraint, rested their elbows on the tablecloth, their eyes wide open under the lamplight, and their bodies were heated by a huge furnace that spit out a bloody gleam to the ceiling; all they talked about was hunting and hunting dogs.

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