After returning to Shangjing City, Wang Ping took no immediate action. Every day, after completing his daily practice, he would simply wander about. Sometimes he would be in a teahouse listening to storytellers, other times at a brothel listening to songs, or even visiting a nearby famous mountain to admire the snowy scenery.
「Half a month later.」
The weather in Shangjing City had grown colder, and the Spring Festival was drawing near. Red lanterns were hung outside every household. At the street corner, two old Scholars had set up a stall to sell couplets, and their business was booming.
When Wang Ping returned home these past two days, his neighbors asked him to write some couplets for them. He didn't accept any money, only taking things like rice and flour in return. The best payment he received was a leg of lamb.
