Two days later, the weather finally cleared; the incessant rain of several days had at last come to an end. The water on the road had receded, leaving only puddles of mud.
Consort Yun, who had been traveling for several days, returned in a wretched state.
Zhao Junyao sneered twice but said nothing. Women, afraid of death. Somewhat understandable, I suppose.
After the skies cleared, everything that had happened seemed to pass with the storm.
The Weishui River did breach its banks, but those sandbags were not just for show. Most of the floodwaters had been contained; only a small portion had escaped.
Six villages and more than fifty acres of crops were flooded, and over a dozen people died. At first glance, it appeared tragic, but in fact, this was the best possible outcome.
「Inside the Jiangning Prefecture Yamen's prison.」
Prefect Hou and his entire household were there, men and women separated, totaling some forty or fifty people.
