Though this wasn't the first time Uncle and nephew Wei Lou had come to Huang Ting, this was the time they'd arrived with the most complicated feelings. He remembered that when he'd left, the city had been somewhat quiet. Now that he'd returned, the streets were packed shoulder to shoulder with visitors like a woven tapestry. The first thing Wei Lou noticed wasn't the clothes the common folk wore.
The first thing he noticed was the look in their eyes.
If someone asked Wei Lou what he knew best in this life, what would he say?
Nothing but pairs of eyes, numb and devoid of any glimmer, and bodies so emaciated that every rib stood out. Even when their filthy flesh showed beneath their ragged clothes, their owners couldn't muster the slightest shame.
To people living through troubled times, even shame was a precious thing.
But now, what he saw in Huang Ting—
Not everyone wore new clothes, but their garments were clean and neatly mended, even when patched.
He could truly feel the vigorous vitality surging through them.
As he thought, the carriage stopped at a residence in the eastern part of the city.
The residence's gates stood open, and the stone steps had been swept clean.
Wei Lou looked at the Literary Scholar. "You prepared this?"
It was rare to find someone so considerate and thorough.
The Literary Scholar shook his head. "No."
Wei Lou: "..."
He'd praised them too soon.
The nearby residents soon noticed that they had new neighbors next door.
The new neighbors were surnamed Wei. One was a young-looking man, around twenty-six or twenty-seven, while the other was tall and powerfully built. Yet he seemed to suffer from some strange aversion to light, staying bundled up all day in a black robe that covered