The next day, at the roll call, the sky was still the pale white of a fish belly.
Ye Qingxuan had changed into a blue changshan, the formal uniform of a constable in the Fengtian Division. Made of fine cotton, it was several grades above the coarse hemp tunics worn by temporary constables. He fastened the Black Iron Waist Token on his left side and hung the brand-new Fengtian Blade on his right. As his hand closed around the black-wrapped hilt, he felt a solid weight settle in his heart.
When he stepped into the courtyard of the Fengtian Division's South City Yamen, the noisy voices within suddenly fell silent.
Dozens of temporary constables were gathered on the western side of the courtyard, chatting and laughing. The moment they saw Ye Qingxuan's outfit, their words caught in their throats. Their gazes traveled from the blue robe to the official blade, then finally settled on his young yet composed face. Their expressions varied—envy, jealousy, and, more than anything, an involuntary awe.
This uniform was the difference between heaven and earth.
"Qingxuan!"
Wei Datong was the first to push through the crowd. He looked Ye Qingxuan up and down, grinned, and thumped him on the shoulder, though he held back seven-tenths of his strength.
"Good lad! Put this on, and you really look like an official!"
Xiong Tiezhu followed behind him, chuckling as he scratched his head. "Brother Qingxuan, you really look impressive..."
Ye Qingxuan smiled and patted Wei Datong's arm. His gaze swept over the crowd and found Zhang Lingxiao standing in the shadow of a corridor pillar, his back turned to Ye Qingxuan as he spoke with someone. Yet the tension in his shoulders betrayed his mood.
Some temporary constables who normally had little to do with Ye Qingxuan also