The drizzle soaked the surrounding wood completely, and the beasts in the jungle lost their tracks.
The seekers, who once relied on hunting along the way for a full meal, had no fresh meat to eat. They squatted inside the carriage every day, wearing thin autumn clothes that could hardly ward off the cold, covered with damp blankets, chewing dry brown rice rations.
The sense of happiness is all about comparison.
Shang Yanting ate the delicate pastries (which Jia Xitong collected), and suddenly they didn't taste overly sweet anymore; the roast duck with glistening oil on the skin (← bought for being economical) suddenly didn't seem greasy anymore.
That complete tiger skin, though expensive, was truly warm.
He lay in it at night, hugging the little beast with sparse fur, feeling the warmth from the thick fur and dry blankets, listening to the teeth chattering from the cold around, and surprisingly slept exceptionally well.
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