The sky was high and the air was crisp, the distant mountains decorated with autumn hues painted a poetic and picturesque scene, with layers of forests fully dyed in colors, a feast for the eyes.
A donkey cart slowly moved along the official road, the man sitting on the cart shaft, with a dignified appearance and dark skin, dressed in coarse cloth, lowered his head to draw.
The person next to him was tuning a two-stringed fiddle, occasionally playing a few notes.
As he looked up, Sanchuan City had already appeared at the end of their view.
"We're almost there!"
Cheng Ge, holding the two-stringed fiddle, shouted into the carriage, while Jia Liang beside him had already finished drawing a simple terrain map.
Inside the carriage, Yao Zhen yawned, nudging the soundly sleeping Sang Que with his foot, "Wake up, hey, we're almost there!"
