Fengjian, China. a golden breeze brushed through his lose hair, the rim of his hat protected him from the blaze of the sun which could only spring down onto the extensive cabbages that were carefully brought up by him.

Kung Lao was taking the wheelbarrow to Madam Bo's, passing through the market seeing a huge crowd surrounding something. someone. and the melodic music of a guqin playing in the center of the stalls. you sat curled on a wooden stool, the instrument on your lap as your nails plucked at it carefully.

at the end of your performance, many people tipped you cash. searching his pockets he quickly placed down a qian. making eye contact as he quickly turned away and lowered his straw hat. blaming his flushed cheeks for sweat.