"My lord! Please, Lord Pei, you must help us!"
A group of merchants, dressed in fine silks and satins yet looking utterly haggard, dropped to their knees in the middle of the street, blocking Pei Shaoqing's path. Their cries were piercingly sorrowful.
Ever since Zhao Shiren's death last month, their businesses had practically ground to a halt. They no longer dared to send men out of the city to restock supplies or ship goods, and had been anxiously awaiting Pei Shaoqing's return.
But after Pei Shaoqing returned, they had prepared gifts and attempted to visit him several times, only to be turned away at the door with excuses such as travel fatigue or being busy with official matters.
After several consecutive rejections, they realized Pei Shaoqing was displeased about their reduced tribute silver and was deliberately giving them the cold shoulder.
