But when you had to act as a porter for Qing Jing Peak—what was up with that? Every time they made a purchase, it was hundreds and hundreds of kilograms of books. Then they would make An Ding Peak’s people huff and puff their way down the mountain to fetch them, then huff and puff their way back up to the peak. Meanwhile, they’d be living the high life—their butts stuck to their seats and their fingers stuck to their instruments. They’d just sit and wait for the goods to be delivered to their door.
