Mr. Wen was forcibly spun around a full one hundred and eighty degrees, darkness flashed before his eyes, his right cheek swelled up high, and with a thud, he fell to the ground, then promptly knelt and pleaded for mercy.
"Spare me, my lord... spare me..."
Shen Juan silently added a kick, pushing him back to the ground with a flop.
Disguised, Zhao Douan's exquisite boots stepped into the filthy snow of the alley, while the maid dressed as Qian Kerou squatted down, checked the little girl's injuries, breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded towards her master:
"She's not seriously harmed."
Zhao Douan, expressionless, grunted an acknowledgment and said, "You all may go."
At this moment, a crowd of poverty-stricken commoners huddled on the ground finally snapped out of their trance, bowing their heads repeatedly:
"Thank you, young master!"
Afterward, not daring to linger, they quickly picked up their own winnowing baskets and fled as if running for their lives.
