The tide of the Qiantang River has just passed the flood season, and the turbid waves are beating against the bank, and the splashing water wets the new leaves of the weeping willows on the bank. On the official road outside Hangzhou, a rickety mule cart was running through the mud. The curtain of the cart was lifted by the wind, revealing a young man curled up inside.
The young man was about sixteen or seventeen years old. He was wrapped in a patched coarse cloth and his hair was messy and tied with a hemp rope.
