I Sit in a Little Tavern and Witness the Worlds Beyond

I'm just a tavern keeper. I don't know any big shots.

You mean that brat who just left? I think his name was Shi Hao. He was saying something about how much he loves beast milk.

That man with his back to the door said he raised a little black dog. He seemed like an interesting fellow.

That down-and-out man in the corner said he was the Number One Scholar. He insisted on trading a three-inch-and-seven-line flying dagger for a jug of my wine.

I warmed a pot of yellow wine. A kid carrying a wooden sword rushed over, drank it in one gulp, and said it wasn't as good as Old Huang's wine.

That young man in cloth shoes finished his wine, then insisted on doing a set of punches. He said he had to practice a million punches before he could meet the girl with brows like distant mountains.

Go, go. It was all just a dream spanning a thousand autumns.

What more is there to say? Just drain this cup of muddy wine.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.