The evening glow reflects off the sky.
At the village head, birds call to return to their nests from the treetops.
A young farmer stands at his doorstep, gazing at the distant mountains, with an inexplicable expression.
Locals call that mountain Sheepbeard.
"Young man, could I trouble you for some water?"
A traveler paused and inquired.
The farmer surveyed the traveler, noticing the genuine air of someone weary from travel, not a disguise.
Xu Ling nodded, "No need to be so polite, brother. I'll go inside and fetch some water for you."
"Thank you so much."
Yan Tiangong gratefully clasped his hands, but before he lowered them, he couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Xu Ling stopped immediately, waiting for the laughter to subside.
"Alright, buddy, drop the act, will you?"
Yan Tiangong adjusted his expression and added, "You look nothing like a native. I bet you haven't even disposed of the native corpse inside, right?"
