Chiang Songhai strapped on his back basket, and as he and his son just stepped out of the main room, they saw Chiang Baoguo leading two people back.
One male and one female, both pushing bicycles.
The man looked to be around forty-five, dressed quite decently, even his hair combed straight as if he were an official. With small eyes, thin lips, and a mole beside his mouth, he seemed to be smiling, but Chiang Xiao felt that his smile had a calculating look to it.
The woman wore a white poplin shirt and grayish-blue trousers, with two braids in her hair. She was pretty and appeared young, no more than twenty-five or twenty-six, but half of her face was covered with gauze, and her expression carried a trace of bitterness.
A woman injured on the face was already a big deal.
Chiang Baohe followed behind, his remaining eye fixed on the woman the whole time.
Song Xiyun, on the other hand, lagged behind, her expression one of grinding her teeth in anger.
