"Plop!"
I tumbled into a pile of hay in an extremely ungraceful posture, startling a few piglets into scattering in all directions. My wine gourd rolled out from my lap and spun around on the ground a few times.
"Ouch..." I rubbed my backside as I climbed to my feet and looked around. It was a crude farmer's pigpen, and the air was thick with a familiar, ahem, rustic atmosphere.
Chapter 57