The blind man tore at the flatbread in his hands, his attention focused on his surroundings, particularly the second floor. Several groups of people emerged from the guest rooms. Their steps were light and nimble, clearly indicating impressive lightness skill. Though their faces remained outwardly composed, their bodies were tensed, prepared for any sudden event.
The blind man sighed. He looked at the finely shredded pieces of flatbread he had just torn into his bowl and hesitated. He had originally intended to ask the innkeeper to add hot soup to it. It seemed that lingering downstairs any longer might be dangerous, yet he was somewhat reluctant to abandon his "handiwork."
The blind man wasn't one to stir up trouble, nor did he enjoy being nosy. So, in the end, he picked up his bowl, stood, and walked to the counter. Finding a waiter, he offered him a small piece of silver.
"Add soup, sprinkle some more scallions and cilantro, and send it to my room."
