Wu Songyuan was occasionally absent from the arena. When he returned, he looked like he'd been hauled out of a river, ca…
Wu Songyuan was occasionally absent from the arena. When he returned, he looked like he'd been hauled out of a river, carefully unpacking the delicate bottles of rare clay and pigments cradled in his arms and setting them down on the smithing bench.
The next day, a few Jianghu Wanderers left beaming, each carrying a black-wrapped bundle. When asked where the goods came from, they all had the same story: some cat had dug a tunnel and delivered the items at midnight. One even claimed it was the work of the Wens' ancestral cat-taming arts.
Maybe that cat runs a tavern and makes a tidy profit too. Everyone knew the truth, but no one dared say it aloud.