It was a whole piece of fabric hanging from her foot, flapping in the cold wind. There was nothing underneath it.,All eyes beheld a crowd clad in homespun tunics, their waists cinched with pale cloth belts. Both men and women sported long hair, styled into loose topknots atop their heads. The faces of the elder men bore etchings of hardship deeper than the yellow earth itself.,Villagers in homespun short shirts carried farm produce past him, casting sideways glances his way, their eyes twinkling with amusement. He could still hear the fading chatter of their conversation.。