The night wind carried the raindrops, like countless small cold needles, pricking the ground of Qingzhu Mountain.
Su Qingzhao held up the rolling pin and chased him on the muddy path until he was out of breath. He was still cursing: "Ah Wang, you damn dog! I haven't beaten you for just a few days, and you are already lawless! That is my coffin book for next month! If you keep chewing like this, you will have gold teeth in your next life!"
Awang held half of something golden in his mouth. It was gilded gold chewed off the tombstone. It was shiny, as if he was laughing at Su Qingzhao's inability to do anything.
