985 A Miraculous Jianghu

It was that time of the year again, Winter Solstice. The capital was covered in snow once again.

Qian Ping'an wore a gray coat, putting both his hands inside the sleeves of the opposite hand, and stepped on the snowy ground as he walked towards the tea shop that he often frequented while shivering and creating a puffing white steam out of his mouth.

Today was a big day for the owner. The rice shop had never opened, and he got to rest early, so he could go and listen to Mr. Storyteller talk about the new and interesting things published in the newspaper.