The Capital Magistrate's yamen stood with an iron-cold severity.
The late autumn's chilly wind whipped up scattered withered leaves, slamming against the tall, crimson-peeling gateposts with a mournful, wailing sound.
Two weather-beaten stone lions crouched before the entrance, their fangs bared ferociously, their huge copper-bellied eyes staring blankly and indifferently across the empty plaza, imparting an even greater sense of inviolable majesty.
Chapter 70