This year, the agricultural tax was collected at the threshing floor, just as it had been the year before, by the same group of yamen runners. Dressed in official uniforms with grim expressions, each of them wore a heavy saber at their left hip, looking imposing and stern.
The villagers dared not act out of turn; everyone kept their heads bowed like turtles, not daring to meet the runners' gazes. The arrogance they usually displayed when arguing with one another had vanished completely; they were like different people entirely.
Zhao Yan had come today as well, but instead of standing with Zhao Gao, he found an inconspicuous corner to stand in. He had come to find inspiration for poetry. He felt his sensitivity to the world was still too limited. His past life had been far too dull, and as a result, he didn't care for sentimental reflections, preferring instead to approach things practically. Reason dominated his mind, and emotion played little part in his life.
Chapter 231