The lowest-ranking officials, in order to get promotions, also have to take money.
Where does this money come from?
It's exactly what Prince Qin said, from the people who work hard throughout the year.
No one else contributes, only the people bleed and toil.
Everyone receives money, except for the countless people in the fields.
At this time, passersby shelter from the rain, getting a bowl of hot duck blood noodles soup, discussing recent events. The sound of their conversation mingles with the mist dispersed in the air as the winter rain falls, and the warm breath during their idle chat, blending with the cooking smoke, brings a lazy charm.
This is as far as the human world goes.
Nan Hanwen suddenly feels a strong impulse, and the past decades of experiences and what he has witnessed in the past month are fiercely clashing within him. The old scholar remains silent for a long time, his fist clenching and unclenching.
