Wind swept through the great plains with a force seeking to shake the landscape of the lush green grass in the foreground. Tall grass flickered and rustled in every which direction, almost dancing in the presence of the wind. To Bizi Gan it looked more like cowering which left him unamused. His gaze was fixated on the unmoving and stoic presence of the dense trees that created a thicket of understory canopy for him to relax in. While their leaves shuttered from the wind only a few fell, perhaps their only purpose. Beyond the howling was the incessant noise of scratching, the sound of stubby fingers running through coarse, matted fur. It was enough to know that he had gone a few days without bathing from the sheer scrunching. As noble and intelligent of a race they were, escaping the primal ceremonies of the Mokeu ancestors was harder than anticipated. 

He spent an unsanctimonious amount of time properly grooming himself and checking for any hitchhikers that accompanied him like a ferry. A strand of barley or some kind of wheat stuck out of his mouth, slowly moving back and forth through his molars. It only took a few months, but the old coot had finally decided to begin his descent from his perch above it all. He wasn’t confident in his assumption, but there could be more information on Zhao-Fu. Wishful thinking it may have been, yet it was enough for him to begin his journey. Assuring he had everything he needed he took in the surrounding once more before turning his back on his home for the last time. This time the grass didn’t look like a dance ensemble, instead in some sense, they were waving him farewell. 

Days turned into nights, terrain turned from grass to mud to stone and back again. Some days were sweltering hot only to be disrupted by swelling of clouds followed by a downpour that felt like salvation. Nights brought on a brisk cold that was no match for his fur. Bizi-Gan experienced it all with unwavering patience. And while the scenery changed around him, he remained unnerved with the same unyielding expression. It was rather obvious when he was entering civilization once more, open fields were replaced with decadent buildings of varying sizes. Livestock was huddled into little farms connected to bridges and paved roads. The shrill sound of children’s happiness and sadness echoed through bustling streets of commerce. Had the opinion of Mokeu people changed since he locked himself away? 

Whatever the case he ate when he wanted, rested when he needed and continued on. With the entrance of humanity he was able to learn of gossip and news loose on the lips of anyone who would have it. The most poignant information that burned through the towns was the talks of the emperor’s death. The festivities of Wan Yue cut short in the grand city of Bianewi by imposters adorned in regalia of the people. Bizi-Gan traced the grooves on his jade bracers when they mentioned the Ruby Palace. The contrast of the two minerals felt intentional, with his being a bit more auspicious. He rose from his seat and decided to venture to the Imperial Square. More questions than answers it seemed to pose. 

It wasn’t more than a few days before Bizi-Gan arrived. The city was clearly still in a period of mourning. The people had fallen on harsh times and even worse living conditions. Finding suitable work or information here would be harder than he imagined. Nevertheless, he ventured into the once source that flowed with information in the shape of a glass, a tavern.