The Palace Supervisor.
At the door, two rows of eunuchs were waiting, each dressed in the plainest of grey robes.
Everyone had already found out that the new Admiral had not yet received his official robe. When the time came, seeing you dressed up brightly and beautifully, envy might arise in his heart, and before you knew it, he would use it as an opportunity to assert his authority.
The spring breeze of March was no longer cold, yet the heavy weight of waiting chilled the heart.
With the arrival of a new official, inevitably someone would be made into a sacrificial chicken, perhaps because their appearance was disagreeable, or perhaps because they stepped in with the right foot first, and then they would be beaten to death, fallen into a well.
This was like drawing lots by chance, and the one chosen would die.
Mental fear was more torturous than physical punishment!
The sun was already high in the sky.
