The Tongfu Inn in Qixia Town was nearly out of food, and Tong Xiangyu was scolding Bai Zhantang for not going out to drum up business. An old Taoist priest arrived at the door with a child. Bai Zhantang recognized them as Zhang Sanfeng and his grand-disciple Zhang Wuji, who had been afflicted with cold poison. Old Bai ducked behind the counter and lowered his voice. “Don't make a fuss. They're just passing through and stopping for a rest.” I clutched my broom at the foot of the stairs. “The inn will be dining out on this meal for the rest of its life.”
