As Zhao Ying turned to leave the courtyard, she was filled with apprehension: "Brother, please, you mustn't come to harm, you must stay alive."
Obviously.
Zhao Ying had deliberately kept Mrs. Zhao from going—should anything truly befall her brother, she could try to keep the news from reaching their mother's ears; but if Mrs. Zhao had gone herself, there would be no turning back.
At the village entrance!
In no time at all, hundreds had already gathered—men and women, young and old; those not of military households came out of curiosity, while the military families were gripped by nervous hope and anticipation.
As the annual salaries were distributed,
each household would be able to live a little better, using the money to acquire daily necessities—perhaps some finer goods, or charcoal for fuel.
It was almost winter now, the most difficult season to endure.
In this era, plenty of people froze to death each year, and everywhere in Qin, money was accepted.
