Mr. Feng sat in front of the stone table, his hand holding the brush suspended in mid-air.
In the yard, two fire pits swayed unpredictably in the cold wind. The man with a heart as hard as iron borrowed the light of the flames to observe this old friend before him, and even he experienced a moment of disbelief.
No one expected the Top Three of the Ning Dynasty Secret Spy Department, Bai Long and Binghu, to meet in the Jing Dynasty's Shangjing City.
After a long while, Mr. Feng placed the brush beside the inkstone, a hint of mischief in his eyes: "I previously asked you to come to Shangjing overnight. Why did you only arrive today? How come no one else was delayed by the wind and snow, yet you are the only one late? Go, take twenty strokes... no, fifty strokes."
The ten or so subordinates of the Bai Family in the courtyard showed no change in expression, as if they were accustomed to this Chief Steward's rewards and punishments.
