A short while later, Wen Xiaoqiao returned.
The plump woman, her figure like a tank, walked through the snowstorm, followed by four sword-wielding servants, exuding a certain imposing presence.
“Miss Wen, how is the situation?” Li Yuan asked.
Wen Xiaoqiao paused, then said, “Young Master Li, you don’t go see for yourself, but instead ask me?”
Immediately, she smiled sweetly, “It’s normal. This is what a bustling market should look like. Most of the goods are either numb or trembling, only a small portion are crying.
But as soon as they cry, the merchants nearby punish them, so the noise quickly subsides…”
Li Yuan’s heart skipped a beat.
This time, he wasn’t lamenting the state of the world, but rather recalling scenes from horror movies from his past life…
Where resentment is heavy
