The eaves of the teahouse were draped with a rain curtain.
A gust of wind set it dancing like silver snakes.
The sky turned a murky yellow, and Xu Xing paused on the eaves of a three-story wooden building by the roadside. The drizzling rain fell on him, blocked by an invisible qi shield, then merged into streams, flowing along the roof's tiles and into the street gutters.
Soon, Scholar Su rushed out of the teahouse, shielding himself from the rain with his large sleeve in one hand and holding a "storytelling" banner skewered on a bamboo cane in the other.
However, the rain by the roadside was too heavy.
It wasn't long before he was utterly drenched.
So, he simply stopped trying to shield himself from the rain and trudged slowly onward, bamboo cane in hand.
