"Old Wang, how's the harvest recently?" The middle-aged man carrying a hoe on his back asked as he passed by a field.
The man wading through the mud wiped his sweat and replied with a smile, "How can it be? The same as always, but the heavens have been kind this year. The harvest should be a bit better than last year's and it's enough to eat."
"That's good to hear. I'll trade some of my sweet potatoes for some of your rice later, okay?"
"Of course, we've been brothers for so many years, no need to talk about trading. I'll give you thirty pounds." The old man replied cheerfully.
The middle-aged man laughed heartily and was just about to leave when he seemed to remember something: "I heard from the passing Taoist that things haven't been peaceful lately. That thing has come out from the mountain, you better be careful and hurry home once it's dark."
The old man's expression turned serious, "Could it be a demon..."
