Refugees were gradually entering the city. As the sedan chair passed through the East Market, several refugees crouching under the tea house eaves shrank their necks in surprise.
An emaciated old woman holding a broken bowl followed the sedan chair with her cloudy eyes for a long time.
"Luo Hai! Come here to see this official!"
The sedan chair hadn't even stopped when Sun Wenyuan leaned halfway out.
The eastern city gate was teeming with people, dust filled the air, over twenty large iron pots were set up under makeshift reed shelters, the scent of bubbling rice porridge mingled with the acrid smell of sweat, assailed the senses.
Luo Hai personally went into the crowd, rolling up his sleeves to serve porridge to a crippled old man, getting rice soup stains on the hem of his official robe.
Seeing his superior arrive, Luo Hai quickly put down the wooden ladle and saluted, "Subordinate pays respect to Mr. Sun. As you can see, these refugees from Jingzhou..."
