Durin's Diary

Having set the alarm, Durin woke up early in the morning, and Hemo had come back early through the birdhole in the top corner of the wall, bringing the reply to the letter Durin had sent out yesterday.

It was a reply from Anta. The young lady indicated that she already knew Durin had woken up and also said that tomorrow morning—in fact, this morning—she would like Durin to come over for a visit.

After all, she had mentioned before that she had a business proposition.

Slipping into a pair of velvet trousers, Durin was choosing a sweater in front of the wardrobe when Anta's magic pet, a little Star Phase Dragon, wriggled in through the birdhole.

Hemo recognized it, so it didn't make any protective gestures towards Durin.

The little dragon approached Durin and placed the mailbox it was holding in its mouth into Durin's hand.

Durin opened the mailbox, took out the letter, and saw that the parchment had only one line written on it—"I'm waiting at my front door; today's sun is nice, see you there."

The core of that line was "hurry over." Having known this young lady for nine years, Durin could translate her cryptic words even if he read them backward.

Thinking this, Durin patted the little Star Phase Dragon's head to indicate that it should go back and inform Anta, and then it wriggled out through the hole again.

.........

"Young master, what would you like to eat this morning?" Xialu's ears were sharp. While Durin was still walking on the second-floor carpet, she popped her head out of the kitchen door and asked with a lazy drawl.

"I'm going to see Anta, so don't arrange my breakfast. You all can eat," Durin said, then trotted downstairs.

"Take care on your way," Xialu stepped onto a small stool and took Durin's scarf and coat from the coat rack.

With Xialu's help, Durin put on his coat, patted the head of his little cat, and then pushed open the front door and walked out.

Anta's house was on the other side of the town. Durin ran along the stone path and, when he was nearing Anta's residence, he straightened himself in front of a mirror outside a shop by the road before slowly walking around the corner and smiling as he approached Anta.

The latter was slumped in a large rocking chair at the doorstep. If Durin remembered correctly, he had made it for his own family's elder Yishu, and since then, it had become quite popular among the elderly.

"You're finally here," Anta got up and sized up Durin for a while, "You've lost weight."

"Really?" Durin was curious.

"Truly, you must be hungry. Redwing said when she got back that you were still dressing and hadn't had breakfast," Anta said, and then took Durin's arm, "Come on, I'll take you to the newly opened place for some Changtang cuisine."

"Do you forget the last time we tried Changtang cuisine?" Durin didn't care about money, what he cared about was being led astray by this silly young lady—last time she recommended a so-called Changtang noodle soup restaurant run by Changtangians, only for Durin to find out the owner's black hair was dyed and his deep-colored pupils were created with an Illusion Technique, and the noodles were so poorly made they disintegrated in the soup. Moreover, when Durin and Anta visited, since the owner was a fake Changtangian, over a hundred patrons of various races got into a brawl with the owner and his cronies, smashing up the place.

"This time it's a real Changtangian," Anta said while thumping her chest.

Hearing the thumping sound, Durin sighed helplessly, "Is it really real this time?"

"Trust me!!" Anta deployed the Ninth Level Divine Arts of Romanticism: The Whimper of the Beasts.

Old Durin, with a heart as firm as steel, gritted his teeth and nodded, "Alright, I trust you, let's go."

He feared that if he hesitated even a second or two, the young lady would produce her little tricks.

"By the way, what about the big business deal you mentioned?" Durin asked deliberately as they stepped out.

"It fell through. You were in bed yesterday, and I wasn't in the mood to accompany them," Anta's answer warmed Durin's heart.

Durin soon experienced the Changtang feast that Anta had mentioned.

The person really is a Changtangian, with black hair, dark pupils, and even their hair is tied up with a headscarf.

Their clothes aren't like those Durin saw in the museum's Southern Tai historical exhibit, but they all have right-side over left-side closures.

But it's just that one coat, underneath which the shirt and trousers, as well as the leather boots on their feet, are unmistakably Western Lands' style—probably because their original clothes were too worn out to wear anymore.

The shop is very small, just a pushcart, a large stove, and a big pot.

Glancing around, Durin noticed nearly all the town's famed epicures present, gathered around over twenty square tables, cheerfully tucking into their meals.

"Two bowls of Salar Beast meat noodles," Anta called out confidently with a raised hand.

Durin followed Anta and took a seat where nobody else was, glancing around a bit, he had heard that Chang Tang was very far from here, so far that it would take several months by boat.

How had this Changtangian come all this way?

With this thought in mind, Durin turned to look again at the Changtangian, who was slicing meat. Just one glance, and Durin felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity—'With that knife work, little brother, you must have practiced for at least thirty years.'

He watched the noodle stall owner slice the meat, then place it on the iron grill on the cart to cook. Durin observed for a while longer until the stall owner methodically finished cooking the noodles, paired them with freshly roasted meat, seasoned with salt, and plated everything neatly.

When the dish was served, Durin asked curiously, "Do you understand Grassland Elves' language?"

"No, but I'm proficient in Spell Formula for languages," the Changtangian gentleman replied with a smile.

Ah, fluency in languages, such a useful spell. Durin was even certain that as long as this spell existed, the world would have no need for simultaneous interpreters.

"Are you really from Chang Tang?"

"Yes, two and a half years ago, I landed from Eternal Forge Fortress, traveled from the Great Wilderness to the Farol Principality, then to the Savoy Commercial Union..." As the Changtangian explained, Durin learned that he'd traveled north after touring the southern countries, only to find his pockets nearly empty when he reached the Northern Kingdom, which ultimately led him to push his handcart all the way to Eastern Elven Territory, now trying to gather travel funds in Lublin to return to Eternal Forge Fortress.

"What do you think of the Western Lands?" Durin, who had never left Lublin in his life, thus asked.

"Quite interesting. There are customs and styles you can't see in Eastern Land everywhere, the races and beasts are mostly similar, but your Dragonkind here is different from ours over there..." As he was speaking, another customer arrived, and the noodle stall owner had to leave Durin's side.

By this time, Anta had already eaten almost half a bowl. Durin, who had never seen this girl eat so heartily before, decided to try a sip of the soup.

The flavor is really nice, a purely simple taste of noodles enhanced with salt for freshness, combined with the slices of meat and their fat, creating a wonderful taste sensation.

After finishing the noodles, Durin, with Anta burping contentedly, paid the bill, preparing to take a walk to help digest their meal.

They hadn't walked far when they spotted three familiar faces.

The young man leading the group let out a sharp cry, "Anta! Don't run!"

Durin reached out and grabbed Anta, who was turning to run, feeling a bit sorry for her, "Your cousin is calling you, why are you running?"

"I don't have that kind of cousin!" Anta replied angrily, then turned to the boy, "Kamian, didn't I tell you I'm not taking your jobs anymore?"

Great, the tigress is showing her stripes. Durin hung back, waiting to see the young boy's performance unfold.

Perform what?

Of course, desperate excuses as his end drew near.