Now, the two of them had suddenly met here. Though joy and delight surged in their hearts, this was clearly not the time to reminisce. Huangfu Jingchen gazed deeply at Xia Wenjin, as if he meant to gather all these days of longing into that single look.
Then he withdrew his gaze. The tenderness that had filled his eyes a moment ago turned razor-sharp, and he barked in a low, stern voice: "No one is allowed to move!"
With his shout, a squad of men and horses rushed forward, forcing the famine victims and the Constables apart.
The squad was not large, fewer than twenty men, while the Constables numbered forty or fifty, and the common folk were more numerous still.
Yet the blades in their hands were true drawn steel, the snow‑bright edges gleaming with cold light. Not only that, their eyes were calm, their expressions grave, almost identical in their composure.
They stood without moving, yet from their bodies there emanated a blood‑and‑iron, deathly aura.
