There was a sword in the room; next to the shelf where the armor was originally placed, a sword stood upright.
Unfortunately, the God of Mercy did not desire a sword.
Xia Chuhe said, "Go out and find thorns, I'll get the torches and ashes."
Offering one's knees to the gods has at least one advantage—Dong Huimiao doesn't have to be bedridden; the two of them working together are more efficient.
It goes without saying that he would destroy seedlings in winter by searching for thorns in the front yard, back yard, and neighbors' yards.
Xia Chuhe sneaked into the kitchen, looking for a suitable wooden stick to make a torch, but saw a maid staring at the leaping flames in the stove, her gaze serene, her whole being seemingly burdened by an unyielding sorrow.
"What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?" Xia Chuhe didn't want to have much contact with her, but her melancholy appearance was even more pitiful than Xi Shi clutching her heart.
The maid lowered her eyes and poked at the flames: "I just saw my elder brother go out. He's recovered. Did the head of the family invoke the gods?"
“Yes, it’s worth it to exchange clothes for a healthy body.” Xia Chuhe pointed to the coarse linen clothes on the maid. “Aren’t you used to wearing them? Tomorrow I’ll go to the market and buy some cattle and sheep to get you a new outfit.”
The maid shook her head: "Master, offering clothes as sacrifices does not mean offering the family's clothes to the gods. Rather, it means that in this life, our family will not be able to own any other clothes besides the coarse linen clothes bestowed by the gods. Even if we buy thousands of clothes, they will all become offerings to the gods. If it were just offering clothes, that would be fine, but I'm worried that the gods will want more."
Summer hoeing of the rice plants is silent.
The next thing the gods wanted was a house.
Perhaps she should observe the lives of the gods' followers before deciding whether the rituals should continue.
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