Lin Moyang approached the courtyard, spotting groups of people scattered about from a distance. Some stood, some squatted, all clutching cigarettes and murmuring in low voices. Everyone wore a guarded expression, casting furtive glances around while keeping a firm grip on their baskets or cloth bags—clearly, they were all here for trade.
The air hung heavy with tension, punctuated only by the occasional low cough or the scuff of footsteps. Lin Moyang did not rush forward; instead, he lingered in the shadows to observe. Satisfied that there were no abnormalities, he hoisted his basket onto his back, lowered his head, and walked briskly toward the gate.
Two burly men stood at the entrance, their gazes sweeping over every person entering or leaving with the sharpness of hawks. Lin Moyang’s heart tightened, but he remained composed, tilting his basket slightly to reveal the mushrooms on top.
Chapter 18