Wen Qing never misses market day; if she isn't here to sell the wares of the apothecary in the stead of the old pharmacist, she is out buying groceries and of course looking for maps or books or magical trinkets which might provide clues for finding a way home.

She carries a basket already half-filled with her groceries when she bumps into someone. She turns, registering familiar white robes.

"Forgive me," she says, head bowed. "I wasn't looking where I was going. I was lost in thought."