The military identity proves quite useful, and with the hint from Feng Qingxue's earlier words, the young woman doesn't suspect a thing.
Actually, even if she had suspicions, she wouldn't say anything; his reasons were perfectly legitimate.
The middle-aged man, carrying an empty burlap sack and holding fabrics and brown sugar, with industrial coupons and money in his pocket, can't help but smile. This is his first time trading with someone without being accused of speculative profiteering. The feeling is unusually refreshing, and he thinks he can follow suit in the future, claiming to bring gifts to friends and relatives in exchange for a return gift.
The weather is freezing, and the wild game has long been frozen solid, with no blood dripping. Feng Qingxue throws them directly into the bamboo basket, as there's nothing else in it except for a piece of oilcloth as padding.
