"Begging along the street, dogs bark, returning late to stay at the Temple of the City God, sometimes acting like a flea on a drum."
"The moon is waning, the birds cry at dawn, with filthy clothes and a torn hat, a food basket for breakfast, not seeking fame and fortune."
"With a sharp tongue, beating a bamboo board, making people laugh, let them mock, I find joy in my own way..."
A cheerful voice drifted from afar, interrupting Li Xiaonian's thoughts. She turned her head to look:
An old beggar holding a stick made from tree branches, wearing a tattered felt hat, his beard scraggly, drinking wine, and staggering step by step towards them.
When the old beggar approached Li Xiaonian, she stopped him, feeling a bit uneasy.
"Old man, you shouldn't come this way; it's dangerous here. You should head somewhere else."
