...
Such words, things she had never heard said to her in her entire life. It all felt so fresh, so stimulating. She was slightly embarrassed, but folding her arms, she exuded a mild authority, "Do you know, in the old society, my position was akin to a prefect at its highest, or a county magistrate at its lowest. If you dared disrespect me in this way, you were despising a government official. Weren't you afraid that I'd command someone, 'Take this rascal and give him a taste of the big stick eighty times and throw him into the dungeon to be executed after the autumn harvest?'"
"Oh my goodness, such frightening authority!" Yves King affected a scared expression, "Eighty strokes of the rod? And execution after the autumn harvest? Is it really that serious?"
