The next morning, Chen Cheng woke up early as usual. He practiced a few rounds of the Wind Chasing Saber Technique in the courtyard, ate two bowls of lean-meat congee made by Mu Xiaowan, and then strode confidently out the gate.
"Ah... Brother Cheng, morning."
Wang Chun greeted him with a smile, carrying a wood-chopping knife and a shoulder pole.
He was nineteen this year, two years older than Chen Cheng. Hearing himself called "Brother Cheng" caught Chen Cheng a bit off guard.
"Morning," Chen Cheng replied with a smile.
Besides Wang Chun and his father, Wang Laoshu, there were quite a few other people in the lane, most of them holding wood-chopping tools.
In a year of severe cold, the poor families had to go out of the city in groups to cut firewood during winter.
The forests where you didn't have to pay a fee were very far from the city. Normally, they would set out long before dawn, but today they were a bit late.
