The sky had grown dark, and a gloomy atmosphere now veiled the capital. The aridity of autumn was replaced by a cold rain that both battered and cleaned the tile roofs of residential houses and firmly washed the dust-caked streets. With its coming, this rain marked the first chill of the year; the fifth year of the Qing calendar.
Fan Xian was rubbing his hands as he sat in the second floor of the Xinfeng Restaurant. A wind tarp had been installed outside the window, and Fan Xian watched it mesmerized. He averted his gaze towards the First Bureau yamen across the street, and then to the Supreme Court’s yamen. Comparing both yamen, the one that belonged to the First Bureau was considerably quieter. The officers from the Overwatch Council looked to be at ease, not at all like how they used to be.
