In the Imperial Capital of Daxia, at the Chengtian Gate.
It was just midday, and the rare, lazy winter warmth of the sun spilled over the towering vermilion gate towers, trying to banish the biting chill from the air.
Zhao Laoliu, the gate guard, was wrapped in a thick, battered cotton coat, his hands tucked inside his sleeves, shrinking into the wind-sheltered doorway while his eyelids drooped listlessly.
Chapter 305