With the nearly empty earthenware jar resting on the cool cellar floor, Xu Feng couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the lingering scent of metallic blood and the swirl of his unstable emotions.
He knew he needed to renew his enthusiasm for work, to distract himself from the ever nearing date of his confinement, child birth, possible death...
Time was slipping away, and he had precious little of it left to prepare for the arrival of his children. Even if he didn't make it, he wanted them to live a good life.
His gaze swept across the cellar, its shelves brimming with earthenware jars, each holding the fruits of his labor. While the fruits and labor—the poor abused martial artists—were free, he was confronted by the reality of limited space.
The cellar had reached its capacity, and he had no room for further production of wines and jams.